#goblin green sounds like weed

[garfieldcultist]

some Lisa sketches and coloured thingys i made for funs, I really like how the colours look on the rando one its very shiny

#lisa the rpg #lisa the painful #my art #sketches #terry hintz #brad armstrong #buddy armstrong #buzzo lisa #lisa the joyful #bleeeeeh #goes crazy #sets fire to the parking lot #goblin green sounds like weed

[mgrfp]

Lesser Known Monster Types Described

An assemblage of simple summaries. Not a replacement for research!

Ahuizotl. Dog-like lake dweller. Has spikes on back. Seizes victim with hand at end of tail.

Aka-Oni. Cousin of Ao-Oni. Cursed former human. Hulking horned rampager. Has red skin.

Alerion. Large razor-winged bird. Drowns self when offspring hatches.

Almiraj. Analogue of unicorn. Rabbit replaces horse. Chaotic. Feared by almost every animal.

Alp. Elf Dwarf hybridization. Vampiric. Can turn invisible. Paralyzes victim. Powers from magic hat.

Alraun♂ and Alraune♀. Plant human hybridization. Fragrant flowering being. Sometimes rooted sometimes roaming. Sometimes vampiric or cannibalistic sometimes feeds like human.

Anthusa or Flower Nymph. Divine blossom guardian. Life-force bound to flowering plant.

Ao-Oni. Cousin of Aka-Oni. Cursed former human. Hulking horned schemer. Has blue skin.

Arachne or Drider. Spider human combination.

Aura or Wind Nymph. Flying offspring of Boreas. Keeps world cool.

Azeman. Inconspicuous parasite of human. Appears human at day bat at night. Vampiric. Feeds from victim's foot.

Bak. Tall water dweller. Shapeshifter. Identity thief. Powers from magic bag.

Bake-Neko. Cousin of Neko-Mata. Elevated former cat. Sizeshifter and shapeshifter. Prefers ordinary cat form. Feeds on lamp oil.

Barometz or Tartarian Lamb. Plant sheep hybridization. Rooted for part of life-cycle.

Behir or Nathair. Cousin of Dragon. Electricity replaces fire. Has no wings but many legs.

Berserker. Voluntary Werecreature. Raging warrior. Transformation from fungus and animal skin.

Bjarndyrakongur. Analogue of unicorn. Polar bear replaces horse. Wise ruler of bear. Glows.

Boggart. Cousin of Brunaidh. Pernicious prankster. Disappears if secret name spoken.

Brollachan or Boneless. Cousin of Vough. Eldritch jelly blob. Psychovampiric. Shapeshifter. Incapable of proper human speech. Loner.

Bugbear. Cousin of Goblin. Large hairy cave dweller. Sometimes harmless prankster sometimes deadly pillager.

Caladrius. Doctor bird. Lives in sun.

Capelobo. Anteater goat human combination. Vampiric. Stuns victim with shriek.

Cecaelia or Octofolk. Analogue of Merfolk. Octopus replaces fish.

Cherufe. Fiery underground being. Shapeshifter. Skin always hot and rocky. Manages geo-phenomena.

Chiruwi. Mysterious being. Like human cut lengthwise. Powerful potioneer.

Culebre. Variety of Dragon. Powerful magic user. Has wings but no legs. Cruel enemy of Xana.

Dingbat. Deer owl combination. Sounds like horse. Harmless prankster.

Draugr or Aptrgangr. Undead former human. Corpse self-reanimated to commit revenge. Eyes always blue. Deanimated when mission accomplished.

Dullahan. Undead former human. Has detachable head.

Efreeti♂ and Efreetah♀. Variety of Genie. Fiery enemy of Djinn. Bound to place instead of item.

Enra-Enra. Smoke being. Frightening but harmless.

Erchitu. Cursed former human. White bull with flaming horns. Brings bad fortune.

Ettin. Cousin of Troll. Giant tormenter of human. Uncivilized. Can have more than one head.

Fext or Matoha. Undead former human. Almost indestructible incorruptible corpse. Sometimes able to resume human-like existence sometimes must regularly return to grave.

Fideal. Green-skinned weed-haired water dweller. Cannibalistic. Drowns victim.

Firbolg. Cousin of Fomorian. Giant forest dweller. Once proud race. Nature guardian.

Fomorian. Cousin of Firbolg. Giant cave dweller. Once proud race. Individually deformed. Can control weather and cause disease.

Garkain. Hideous jungle dweller. Cannibalistic. Glides through air and suffocates victim with skin-flaps.

Garuda. Huge mountable bird. Sometimes partly human.

Glawackus. Bear wildcat hybridization. Sounds like hyena. Stuns victim with gaze.

Gonakadet or Sea Wolf. Elevated former human. Huge wolf with fins. Brings good fortune.

Gorgad. Agile jungle dweller. Male basically human. Female covered with fur. Not to be confused with Gorgon.

Hamadryad or Tree Nymph. Divine forest guardian. Life-force bound to broad-leafed tree.

Hecatoncheir or Centimane. Giant offspring of Uranus. Rock-hurling enemy of Titan. Has 50 heads and 100 arms.

Heliad or Sun Nymph. Radiant offspring of Helios. Cries amber tears.

Hodag. Huge hairy beast. Has assortment of spikes. Produces stench.

Ijiraq. Child stealer. Shapeshifter. Eyes always red.

Iku-Turso. Huge antlered sea serpent.

Jenglot. Animated doll. Spirit summoned by magic user. Vampiric. Gains fleshly essence by feeding.

Jiangshi. Undead former human. Psychovampiric. Has unnatural coloration and stiffness. Moves by hopping.

Jinmenken. Dog human combination. Fast runner. Loner. Frightening but harmless.

Karkadann. Unicorn rhinoceros hybridization. Cries carnelian tears.

Kikimora. Cousin of Brunaidh. Human bird hybridization. Easily offended. Can switch from mild-mannered helper to chaotic occupier.

Kinnara♂ and Kinnari♀. Human bird combination. Has both arms and wings. Male sometimes like female sometimes like Centaur. Magnificent human protector. Inspires art.

Korred or Corrigan. Enchanting forest dweller. Bewitching female appears basically human but sometimes small. Ugly at day beautiful at night. Confuses or steals human with magic dancing. Chaotic male appears as horse or goat.

Lakhe♂ and Lasin♀. Large tusked forest dweller. Has red or blue skin. Cannibalistic.

Lampad or Torch Nymph. Sullen marching worshiper of Hecate.

Leucrotta or Crocotta. Deer lion combination. Wily predator of human. Has wide mouth with bone-strips instead of teeth. Speech mimic.

Maenad or Mad Nymph. Wild dancing worshiper of Dionysus.

Makara. Huge trunked sea serpent.

Marid. Variety of Genie. Chaotic watery being. Not bound to item or place.

Melusine. Dragon human combination. Powerful magic user. Appears human but must regularly resume true form.

Merrow. Cousin of Merfolk. Female visits land as human with webbed hands and webbed feet. Transformation from magic hat. Male avoids land.

Miage-Nyudo. Intimidating predator of human. Appears human but can increase height. Can only feed on fearful victim.

Myrmidon. Ant human hybridization. Disciplined warrior.

Nachzehrer. Undead former human. Corpse self-reanimated to slay former loved-one. Psychovampiric. Sometimes has horns. Deanimated when mission accomplished.

Nack or Nixie. Cousin of Pixie. Water-controlling water dweller. Sometimes harmless prankster sometimes deadly lurer. Female human-like but swampy green. Male horse fox human combination.

Neko-Mata. Cousin of Bake-Neko. Elevated former cat. Has forked tail. Shapeshifter. Cemetery guardian. Fond of dancing.

Nephela or Cloud Nymph. Floating offspring of Oceanus. Manages water-cycle.

Ningen. Huge wide-mouthed sea monster. Runs across ice-sheets.

Nue. Monkey tiger snake combination. Sings sad song. Brings bad fortune.

Obda. Merry forest dweller. Has backwards body. Breathes with holes in armpits. Harasses human with tickling or forced dancing. Spawns from lost blood.

Oread or Mountain Nymph. Divine mountain guardian. Life-force bound to cone-bearing tree.

Papinijuwari. Monoeyed hunter. Vampiric. Sizeshifter.

Patasola. Monopedal jungle dweller. Vampiric. Sometimes partly animal.

Peryton. Deer eagle combination. Wise enemy of human. Bathes in blood. Lived in Atlantis.

Peuchen. Snake bat combination. Feeds on human heart. Stuns victim with whistle.

Pombero. Small hairy forest dweller. Silent enemy of Siren. Has backwards feet. Stuns victim with hand. Steals voice.

Pugot. Large hairy tree dweller. Headless. Has wide mouth on top of torso. Sometimes harmless thief sometimes ferocious cannibal.

Qilin. Dragon deer ox combination. Brings good fortune.

Rokurokubi. Charismatic parasite of human. Appears human but can extend neck. Psychovampiric. Fond of vermin.

Rusalka. Enchanting water dweller. Deadly lurer. Steals or drowns human.

Serket or Girtablilu. Scorpion human combination.

Shachihoko. Dragon carp combination. Has golden scales and sharp spikes. Can control weather.

Shikigami. Animated paper-doll. Spirit summoned by magic user.

Snallygaster. Huge monoeyed bird. Partly metal. Seizes victim with talons or tentacles.

Snawfus. Majestic mountain dweller. White winged deer. Produces mist.

Spriggan. Cousin of Pixie. Sizeshifter. Lives in ancient ruins. Can cause disease. Sometimes guards treasure.

Su or Succarath. Wildcat ape hybridization. Quadrupedal forest dweller. Has wasp-shaped torso and broad tail. Frenzied render of any approaching being. Caring parent.

Sylph. Light-bodied flying being. Embodies element of air.

Tariaksuq. Caribou human combination. Invisible hunter. Shadow visible.

Tarrasque. Variety of Dragon. Extra pair of legs replace wings. Voracious. Has magnificent mane and rugged natural armor.

Troglodyte. Robust cave dweller. Uncivilized. Sometimes basically human sometimes partly reptile.

Tsuchinoko. Broad-bodied leaping snake.

Tsukumogami. Animated inanimate object. Spirit spawns from 100 years of human ownership.

Undine. Cold-blooded swimming being. Embodies element of water.

Urisk. Cousin of Faun. Nature guardian. Loner.

Vaettrar. Tiny helper or prankster. Enters house from drain.

Vibria. Dragon eagle human combination. Has wings but no hind legs. Inspires joy.

Vodyanoi♂ and Vodyanitsa♀. Slimy water dweller. Male human frog hybridization. Female human-like but cold and slippery. Demands gift or sacrifice. Steals or drowns human if not propitiated.

Vough. Cousin of Brollachan. Shadowy lurker. Has webbed hands and webbed feet. Breathes with hole in head. Can transform into jelly blob.

Vrykolakas. Undead former human. Appears basically human but has wolf-like posture. Feeds on human liver.

Vulpangue. Flat fox. Envelopes victim.

Wemic or Leotaur. Analogue of Centaur. Lion replaces horse.

Wittewijven. Secretive wise being. Lives in ancient ruins or pit cave. Appears human but ghostly white. Can transform into mist. Fond of dancing.

Xana. Pleasing water dweller. Capricious. Sometimes gives treasure sometimes steals child. Not to be confused with Zanna.

Yacuruna. Mysterious water dweller. Has green or blue skin. Wise but unpredictable. Sometimes heals human sometimes steals human. Can transform into dolphin.

Yale or Centicore. Horse boar elephant combination. Has swiveling horns.

Yedua or Jidra. Plant human hybridization. Rooted perpetually. Vicious eater of any reachable being. Inspires evil.

Yuxa. Elevated former snake. Has poisonous spikes or sting. Sly. Can appear human or reptile or combination.

Zagh. Bird human combination. Speaks every language.

Zanna. Child protector. Invisible to adult. Not to be confused with Xana.

Zityron or Sea Soldier. Large walking fish. Lives in water but grazes on land. Has natural armor like plate-mail.

So many possibilities!

#bestiary #monster manual #waifu catalogue #monster #monster girl #mgrfp #i wrote this

[the-bisexual-a-genda]

Mystery Gang As Stoners

Fred A.K.A. The Newb

Some people are just less tolerant of THC, which means every time is like the first time. He prefers being the designated driver but on the occasions, he does partake he becomes a total mother hen. He will constantly make sure the others are staying hydrated. Are you getting paranoid? Do you need to lie down? Maybe you should take it easy Shaggy. He's also super giggly. The girls find it adorable. He never rolls his own joints because they will fall apart. Shaggy has shown him how to do it a thousand times but it just never sticks. He doesn't do edibles because they give him paranoia no matter how little he takes.

Daphne A.K.A. The Mooch(sorta)

Normally the Moocher is the one who's constantly receiving and never giving. And while it's true Ms.Blake has NEVER purchased weed in her life. She's not a true Green Goblin because she pays for pretty much everything else at the smoke sesh. Snacks, pipes, lighters. (Not to mention gifts she buys that aren't weed-related). She doesn't actually smoke too much but tinctures, edibles, and oils she is all over it. Occasionally she'll use her cute purple pipe to puff some Sativa and spend the night petting a cashmere sweater. She also gets the worst cotton mouth when she uses her pipe. Loves painting her nails while high because the rest of the gang ends up helping and it's very cute.

Velma A.K.A Doctor's Note

Velma didn't use it for fun until she got her chronic pain more under control. After being diagnosed with ankylosing spondalitous she was given Medical marijuana. When she smokes for fun a lot of conspiracy theories get scrawled on any and all available surfaces including her friends' skin. A few more tokes and the Philosopher comes out. She becomes Uncle Iroh level of wise and somehow reads even more than when she's sober. She reads out loud which is rare since Velma can be self-conscious about the sound of her voice. She's also quite the star gazer taking her glasses off for "full effect".

Shaggy A.K.A.Cannabis Connoisseur 

An absolute God in the world of cannabis knows and grows tons of different strains, detailed descriptions of every type of cannabinoid, terpenes profiles, and a total green thumb. In high school, he was never not high but as he got older he pulled back and focused more on growing.

He is quite demanding quality-wise. Which is why he started growing his own. All his buds are named variations of Scoob. Shaggy is a sleepy high. It takes a lot to actually affect him since his tolerance is so high but when it does he'll lie down wherever he is and get the best sleep. (Usually Shaggs has a bit of insomnia and a lot of nightmares) When Shaggy falls asleep it's a signal that the night is over and the gang dog pile on him for nap time.

Scooby obviously they don't give him weed but on the fourth of July he'll have a hemp treat to deal with the fireworks.

#headcanons #definately been done before #scooby gang #mystery gang #velma dinkley #shaggy rogers #norville shaggy rogers #norville rogers #daphne blake #fred jones #cannabis #stoner #smoke ganja #smoke

[koiyin]

Part 1

AI Story Thing Sorry for any incorrect pronouns! Tell me whatever you want me to adjust, and I can help the AI to remember your preferred pronouns! CW: Explosions, weapons, AI getting the pronouns wrong

Your name is Koi. Your friends are Glitch, Wisteria, Flurtycurvs, Jamie, Squagon and Mori. "What's our plan?" asks Glitch, "We've been sitting here for far too long. We need to strike soon." "I agree," you say. "But what do you suggest?" "We should go in small groups," he says. "I volunteer to go with Koi and Wisteria." "I'll go with Squagon and Jamie," you say. "I'll go with Flurtycurfs and Mori." "I'm in!" says Wisteria. "Now, let's get to it." "I really wish you hadn't volunteered, Glitch," Wisteria says to you. "I'm good friends with your brother." "Don't worry," Glitch says, "If things go wrong, I'll take the heat." "Let's go." You walk in the direction of the grove, with Glitch, Wisteria, and the others following behind. After a few minutes, you come across the first row of mushrooms. They're green and fuzzy, and they sprout from the dirt like little weeds. You pick one of them and take a bite. It tastes bitter, like the inside of a dandelion, but the flavor grows on you after the first few chews. You continue walking, picking and eating the mushrooms as you go. After about fifteen minutes, you come across the first signpost. It's wooden and painted white, and it's stuck in the ground, with your path clearly marked with thick red paint. It reads: HEADQUARTERS KUBLYKOWSKI You're about to read the next signpost, when suddenly, a burst of gunshots fill the air. "Everybody down!" Glitch yells. You drop to your knees, covering Wisteria with your body. "What's going on?" you yell. "Stay down!" Glitch yells. "Stay down!" You lie on the ground, listening to the sound of gunfire. "Everybody OK?" you hear Glitch whisper. "Yeah," you hear Wisteria respond. "I'm fine," Squagon says. "I'm good," Jamie says. "I'm fine, too," says Mori. "What's going on?" you ask again. Glitch stands up, aiming his gun at the signpost. "Nobody move!" he yells. You see a goblin standing in front of the signpost, aiming a crossbow at you. "Stay down!" Glitch says. "I'm going to kill this little goblin." You see a dozen or so more goblins, lurking in the woods, preparing arrows. "What do we do?" you ask. "This," says Wisteria, pointing her gun at the goblin. "Wait!" you say. "We need a plan!" "Just stand there and shoot," Wisteria says. "I'll distract them," Glitch says. "No, I'll do it," you say. "Just stay down." "I'm not going to sit by and let you die." "Just get out of the way, then," you say, aiming your gun at the goblin. You pull the trigger, and the gun bucks. The goblin's head explodes, and he falls to the ground. You pull the trigger again, and another goblin's head explodes. You keep firing, and soon, all the goblins are dead. "Come on," Wisteria says. "We need to go." "We can't leave him," Squagon says. Jamie holds her close. "We can't leave him," she repeats. "We can't stay," Jamie says. "We need to go." "We need to help him!" you say. "We need to help him." "We can't!" says Jamie. "We can't!" "We need to go." Suddenly, you see Arend in the distance. He's standing over a fallen goblin, aiming his sword at another goblin who's trying to sneak up on him. "Go," you say, running towards him. "Come on," Wisteria says, grabbing your hand. "Arend, it's us," you say, running up to him. "We need your help. The others are coming." "My friends." Arend nods at you. "Come on," you say. "We need your help!" "I cannot leave them," Arend says.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Things I imagine Cad Bane saying as expletives, interjections, derogatory terms, catchy phrases, idioms, etc, etc.

Dagnabbit! ( Damn it )

Dang-blamed ( gimmie the dang-blamed __ )

Durned ( that durned droid! )

Blasted! / Blast it! / Blast! 

Reap my keep, as in collect the means or provisions by which one is kept AKA “Earn my keep,’ but sounds way cooler.

Madder than a wet Tip-Yip ( Endorian hen / chicken )

When sarlaccs fly!

That’s a load of drutash castings

Laserbrain

Chiphead

Mudcrutch ( insult )

We’re sitting mynock’s out here! ( easy target )

Bucket of Bolts

You look rode hard and put up wet  ( in reference to someone looking like shit / hung over )

He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow  ( in reference to a person who is full of themselves / talks too much )

Quit havin’ kittens by the litter ( Someone who is too overly worried about something )

Gut you like a ghest ( gut you like a fish, basically )

Spinnin’ a loop pastry ( someone being too overly dramatic )

That’s a load of Bantha Spew ( a load of shit )

Been had ( been fooled )

Bishwag ( untrustworthy )

Bitten off more than we can chew

Blaster-happy

Kark

Frag

Kriff

Spast!

Skrag

Wild Bantha Chase

Buy the Depp ( Mos Eisley slang for dying )

Chaos take me!

Chewing the luna-weed ( someone acting crazy )

Hold your dewbacks ( hold your horses )

Well i’ll be Kesseled.

Nerf and Wookie show  ( dog and pony show )

When it snows on Tatooine 

Chuff-sucking ( derogatory modifier )

Chucked under the speeder ( throwing someone under the bus )

For Edge's sake! ( fuck/pete/christ’s sake )

Green as goblin moss ( naive )

Harpy ( term for a terrible woman )

Quit having a hissy fit

Drat!

He's slicker'n bantha snot

He's got a burr in his saddle.

Don’t rush on my account! ( hurry up )

That sticks in my craw

Banthaspit!

#Cad Bane #Star Wars #Language #Headcanons #Expletives #interjections #linguistics #character study #duros #evil blue cowboy daddy

[lokispettigerr]

To Summon A Witcher: Geralt x Reader Chapter 1 (NSFW) Smut

Summary:  Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city's colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.

Taglist: In reblog

Word Count: 1769

Warnings: This shit spooky, fam.  Graveyard, and corpse mention.

A/N: This is the first-ever Geralt fic I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Leave me your thoughts in the comments or in an ask!  

“Yeah, it’s this huge guy with stark-white hair, golden eyes, and seriously, a body that could pick me up and snap me like a twig,” I told my best friend, Genny.

“Sounds hot. I’m not sure I understand where this is a problem?” She swirled the coffee mug around, stirring up the settled liquid in her latte. “I mean, unless you are waking up to find that these dreams with the ‘Daddy-white-haired-tree-man’ are really wet dreams that soak your covers through… I could see that as being a problem.” She laughed a musical beautiful laugh. I danced around her comment, not wanting her to know how I felt when I woke up from the dreams of the mysterious man or the nature of some of the dreams which truly did feature bare skin, hard muscle, and moans that rang out in unison.

“Genny, I have never seen this man before in my life, yet he has been in every dream I have had for months now. I just don’t know what it means.”

“Sure, but you’ve had to have seen him somewhere.” She looked around us now, glancing all about the outside patio of the coffee shop that was nestled between a bakery and a uniquities store. People were milling about, their arms full of shopping bags or clutching briefcases or talking on their cell phones. “Honestly, I want to see this guy.” Genny licked her lips. “Maybe he is nearby right now,” she whispered, “Either that or he was the main stud on some porn. Yeah, that’s likely it.”

I stared at her blankly. Why did everything have to come back to sex? I mean, to be fair things always came back to sex for the both of us and this was likely one of the reasons why we enjoyed each other's company so much, but this was serious. Dreams mean something, or so my mother taught me to believe.   And I couldn’t help but think that the man in my dreams had something to do with my current predicament. After all, they had started shortly after things took a turn for the worse.

I’d felt it on more than one occasion, and lately with the way things were going whatever beasty was following me seemed to only be growing stronger.

It had first started on a cold, wet day. The rain had been steadily falling for more than a week, but that day the wind was stirring maddeningly and there had been a tornado warning.

When the storm began I was at work and after the numerous alerts and warnings, me and my coworkers were all told it would be best if we left. In my rush, I dashed out of the door with only my keys.

I had forgotten my bag and my phone and all the contents that I had slowly collected over the years and kept in a satchel as a sort of talisman to ward off evil spirits and the like that seemed to want to attach themselves to me.

The satchel contained an odd assortment of things: a small vial of salt, a clay statue with its own strikingly unusual appearance, a stone of jet, a globe of labradorite, and the tooth of a black cat that all helped me to feel safe, to be protected and to walk unnoticed throughout the world-- at least in the realm of those things not living.

From childhood, I noticed shadows, without shape or form. Most of the time they were harmless. As I grew older, I became more aware of other creatures and entities. The shadows would go from playful to predatorial.

I quickly grew scared and when my mother found out she took me to see a children’s therapist. The apparitions did not stop, they poured forth latching onto my fears, my desperation and hopelessness. It was as if I had become a house for them to dwell within.

I became haunted.

I passed through the hands of multiple therapists, too many to even count. None of them could help me. I was a child becoming a teen that was out of their depth. They either pitied me, despised me, or feared me.

Eventually, my mother heard tell of a spiritual healer, who was no more than a witch, yet she was the only one who could help.

Instead of claiming that I was delusional or sick, the healer praised me for my abilities and told my mother I was gifted, however, the healer sensed the dark energies threatening to consume me and crafted the satchel that had been blessed and enchanted with wards to keep me safe.

And from then on, I carried it with me wherever I went.

That is, until the day the tornado hit.

I’d left work feeling hopeful that I would make it home before the storm became dangerous. But the further I went, the harder the storm raged. I lived in an aged and historic town and was lucky enough to be within walking distance from my work. A few blocks and I would have been home.

I dashed through the rain, taking care not to slip and hurt myself. My keys jangled loudly against my hip.

Rainwater was pelting my eyes and I had trouble seeing. I was soaked. Lightning flashed while thunder rumbled threateningly.

If I would have left a few minutes earlier from my work maybe things would have been different.

If I would have not forgotten my purse with the enchanted satchel within maybe things would be better for me.

Being a human means making human mistakes and mistakes breed consequences that are not often too kind.

I’d rounded a corner at the French district, splashing through puddles when I came to the wrought iron, overgrown with ivy and tangled weeds, entrance of the graveyard.

People often said the graveyard was haunted, cursed.

There were ghost walks and spirit tours that brought groups of people to this very cemetery so they could “Oooo” and “Aahhh” and romanticize about all the horrific deeds that had taken place here. They would return home or to their inns or their taverns and tell the stories they had heard over a beer with a friend, or sitting in front of their fireplace, or tucked into a cool bed on a winter night.

The locals all knew this cemetery was bad news, nothing good ever came of it except for the endless revenue of the ghost tours that the cemetery enticed.

I planned to continue on down the block, straight past the graveyard, but a harsh streak of lightning cut through the sky overhead and thunder cracked so loudly I could feel it deep within my very bones.

Though I cringed at the thought, I knew that if I cut through the graveyard I would be home in half the time.

I gulped and with a look of harsh determination on my face, I ran into the graveyard, pushing my body through the gate.

It closed behind me with a harsh clang, but I continued.

I wasn’t interested in taking my time like some of the tourists do when they come here to meander and ponder while they look at the ancient graves, too old to even have names or dates on them, or too overgrown with tangled foliage for anything to be made out.

There was a worn path beneath my feet, and the rainwater had caused it to be treacherously slick with red clay mud. It threatened to be surpassed and covered in its entirety by tall and leggy green weeds. They slapped relentlessly at my calves and thighs as I ran through.

The weeds made me run blindly. I thought if I stayed on the path it was safest, but I was wrong.

My foot caught on a thick, twisting root that lay horizontally before me. It snaked from one set of graves to another, likely gaining nourishment from the rotting corpses underneath the ground.

I fell, catching myself on the heels of my hands. My pants leg was ripped open and a sharp, sudden pain could be felt above my knee.

I sat up, thoroughly covered in mud and grime from the cemetery, my hair completely soaked through, my clothes stuck against my skin and inspected the gaping wound above my knee. It wouldn’t need stitches, but as soon as I got home I would have to place some butterfly bandages on the wound, or it was sure to leave an ugly scar.

A wet warmth spread along the skin of my knee as my pants soaked up the blood that was pouring forth.

Just then the wind gushed maddeningly, causing the trees in the graveyard to sway and the grey Spanish moss to dance. The trees creaked and groaned with their movement.

Nearby I heard a clicking noise and I couldn’t place it to anything natural. I shifted, sitting up straight, remaining still so I could hear whatever the noise belonged to.

A shadow crossed my periphery and I turned my head towards the movement.

Whatever it was, was using the headstones to hide and shifting between them, manipulating the shadows of the graves to appear “natural”.

But the feeling of dread I had that I often associated with the shadow beings from my past was all too familiar.

My hands fumbled around for my purse. I would grab the enchanted draw-string satchel and would put an end to this shadow thing coming after me.

It was then, I realized my mistake. I had left my purse at work.

“Shit!”

The clicking grew louder and before me, the shadow began to take form.

I knew I couldn’t turn around. All I could do now was keep moving forward, towards home-- towards safety.

The shadow-being before me darkened, swirling and shifting menacingly, and I rose to my feet charging through it.

When I passed through its still collecting form, I felt a cold that seeped into my bones and gripped with a deadly claw around the deepest parts of my being. It was as if, in doing that it knew me. Everything about me.

My darkest desires, my deepest fears, my hopes and my failures.

I ran from the storm.

I ran from the graveyard.

I ran from the shadow that threatened to abolish me.

Things have been a nightmare since and the depression I was treated for long ago with the help of the spiritual healer is slowly lurking back.

I am certain the shadow beast followed me home, and what I am most uncertain of is how to get rid of it.

**** Hope you all enjoyed chapter 1! Please get this fic out into the tumblr verse by reblogging, commenting, and even sending asks if you feel like it! If you would like to support me head on over to my Patreon where you will get access to my fics before anywhere else and much more! Or fuel me with Ko-fi! Until next time! Peace, Loki’s Pet Tiger

#geralt fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt lemons #geralt smut #lpt #geralt fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x you #henry cavill geralt #henry cavill fanfiction

[doomedandstoned]

Dopelord Guide Us Through Dark World of Psychedelic Horror on ‘Reality Dagger’

~By Willem Verhappen~

Photographs by Mo Nemo

Cover Art by Paweł Mioduchowski

I've expressed my love for horror movies before on this site. One of my favorite sub-genres is giallo, with Suspiria (1977, Dario Argento) being my favorite movie in the genre. Pretty much every scene in the film (starring Jessica Harper as an American ballerina enrolling in a Berlin ballet academy, only to discover it's a front for something far more sinister) is a psychedelic, impressionistic masterpiece. The unnervingly playful soundtrack by Italian prog rock band Goblin adds an entire new layer to the already great movie, making it the timeless classic it is.

So why, I hear you asking, is this mad Dutchman talking about a European cult movie from way before he was born, when he should be discussing heavy music? Well, because the cover of the new DOPELORD EP, 'Reality Dagger' (2021 - Green Plague Records), is a loving tribute to that movie. It's no secret that the Polish band knows their cinema, and a cover like this is clear proof of that. Anyway, I get your point, so on to the music.

'Reality Dagger' consists of three tracks that didn't make the cut for one of my favorite records from last year, 'Sign Of The Devil' (2020 - Green Plague Records) -- Doomed & Stoned's Album Of The Year and number 10 on the Doom Charts Top 100 of 2020. Calling these tracks leftovers wouldn't do them justice. They are undeniably Dopelord, but are clearly different from what's presented on last year's full-length.

Reality Dagger by Dopelord

If "Dark Coils" would be the first Dopelord track you ever heard, you know exactly what the Lublin-based quartet is about. Iommic riffing and thunderous drums are accompanied by psychedelic effects and bass player Piotr Zin's instantly recognizable vocal style, at times accompanied by harmonies from Paweł Mioduchowski (guitar).

"Your Blood" is a track that probably would also do well on a Kadavar record, if it wasn't so god-damn heavy. Here we have Dopelord in its most rocking form. The track is more up-tempo and the guitar solo is absolutely killer. It reminds me of when I first discovered the band, through 'Black Arts, Riff Worship & Weed Cult' (2014). Fans of that record will know what I'm talking about.

Closing off this EP is the title track, "Reality Dagger", and it gives us Dopelord at its nastiest. The opening is real sludgefest, with a slow, ultra-heavy riff and earth quaking drums. It certainly helps that Weedpecker axeman Piotr Dobry adds an extra layer of guitar to the song.

Vocally, we're presented with some of the dirtiest growls to be found in the Dopelord discography. Halfway through the ten minute track, the band shifts pace and introduces a mantra for us Doom Bastards. “All things that are lifting me up, become things that are dragging me down. All things that are dragging me down, become things that are lifting me up” describes a feeling that everyone will recognize and this track is a great way to deal with these feelings. As good as the track is on the record, I'm sure it will do even better live.

In the ten years since its conception, Dopelord managed to become doom metal royalty, with an instantly recognizable sound and a discography filled with records that can already be considered classics. Reality Dagger fits in perfectly. All elements that make the band stand out are touched in these 20 minutes, making it also a suitable introduction to the band, while also pleasing long-time fans.

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#D&S Reviews #Dopelord #Warsaw #Poland #doom #metal #doom metal #occult #Willem Verhappen #HeavyBest2021 #photography #Mo Nemo #Doomed and Stoned

[themousefromfantasyland]

Undine

What about a spook fairy tale for Halloween?

As told by the guys at "Storynory" , loosely inspired by the novella of Friedrich De La Motte Fouqué

Illustrations by Arthur Rackham

There are many beings that we humans seldom see. For instance; there are salamanders who dance in the flames of the fire. Goblins hide away in the woods. Deep in the caves of the earth live the gnomes, and beneath the waves of the waters sprites and nymphs swim among the fish and the weeds.

Many hundreds of years ago, a fisherman lived between two supernatural worlds. His little cottage sat between a wood that was thick, tangled and haunted, and a lake that was the home to the water nymphs. By and large, the humans and the magical beings pretended not to notice each other.

Visitors to that part of the world were rare, and so when one evening when the fisherman saw the silhouette of a knight on horseback, he called to his wife to get ready to receive an guest. She prepared a tray with little glasses of spirit and a bowl of berries from the wood.

The fisherman called out, “Greetings Sir Knight, pay us the honour of a visit to our humble cottage.”

The knight was glad to find a roof where he might find food and shelter and he rode towards the fisherman’s home. By the time he reached it, the sky was already growing quite dark. The fisherman invited him to come inside. The knight sat in an armchair and put his leg up on a stool, for he had strained it. They could see that he was quite young, and good looking, if somewhat tired from his journey. He told them that his name was Sir Huldbrand, and that he had a castle that stood on the banks of the River Danube. While they were speaking, they heard a strange watery sound splashing against the window pain. The old man knotted his brow and looked troubled.

"Is it raining?" Huldbrand asked.

“No,” said the old man, as he got up and went to the door. He opened it and called out, “Undine, will you never stop playing these foolish tricks? We have a visitor.”

A few moments later, a girl’s voice said something like, “Don’t be so serious, father.” Huldbrand turned his head and saw a young woman of about eighteen years old stepping into the cottage. He had not expected to find anyone like her here. She was fair and very beautiful.

“And who’s this?” She said with a shrug and a little point at the knight. Her manner was quite insolent, but not without charm.

“Show more respect for our guest,” chided the fisherman’s wife, who was presumably also the girl’s mother.

“Does he talk?” Asked Undine, ignoring her parents discomfort.

“Forgive me,” said the knight. “I hurt my leg when I fell from my horse in the forest, and I am a little slow.” He clambered to his feet and gave a little bow to the girl.

She smiled ironically and said, “A proper knight, I see. And does he have a castle?”

“Undine, don’t be so rude!” Said her father.

Suddenly her eyes flashed with temper. “Well be like that then,” she said, and turning promptly around she headed back through the door into the night. They could hear her running down the path.

“Fiery!” Said the knight, almost approvingly. It was hard to tell if he was more astonished, or amused by her strange behaviour.

“She has always been one like that, ever since the day we found her,” said the mother.

“Found her?” Asked Huldbrand. “So she is not your daughter?”

“Not ours,” said the fisherman. “It is a strange story. Around fifteen years ago, I was returning from the market and making my way through the woods. As I was nearing home, I saw my wife running towards me. I knew something was up, because she never ventures into the woods normally.

“She’s gone, she’s gone,” she was crying. I knew right away that she could only mean our darling child, our little daughter. In fact, that very day she had just turned three years old, and I had a present for her in my sack. She had wondered out of the cottage, and all that was left of her was a blue cap floating on the water of the lake. She must have drowned. Perhaps a nymph pulled her under and took her for a sister in her watery kingdom.”

“We slept little that night, but in the morning we found, in the cot where our daughter normally slept, a little girl - but she was not ours. She was fair where our daughter was dark. She was Undine whom you have just seen, albeit briefly. Her hair and her clothes were wet. We assumed she had fallen in the lake. Of course we accepted the child as a gift from god. Although she has always been naughty, wilful, and strong-headed, we have always loved her like the daughter we lost.”

The knight was clearly fascinated by the tale. “Indeed what a strange story,” he said. “I hope she shall return because I would like to see more of this mysterious and beautiful creature.”

Just then, the wind howled through the trees, and rain began to beat down on the roof of the cottage.

“A storm!” Exclaimed the knight.

“We cannot let her stay out in such terrible weather,” and pulling his cloak over his head, he too went through the door of the cottage, and disappeared into the darkness.

The knight hobbled on his strained leg as fast as he could manage. He followed the path towards the haunted wood, as something told him that she had headed that way. He soon found that a stream was now gushing across the path. He was about to step into the torrent, when voice called out, “Do not step into the stream, it is full of mischief.” He looked up the hill, and could just make out that Undine was sitting on a little island in the middle of the stream. She was sheltered from the storm by the branches of a giant oak tree. The knight scrambled up the hill, and held out his hand to help her jump across onto the bank. “We must return home, your gentle and kind step parents are worried about you,” he said, spreading his cloak above their heads to protect them from the rain.

“I will do as you say,” she replied, “if you promise to tell me the story of your journey through the haunted wood.”

“I shall indeed,” said the knight, “It’s a strange story, though perhaps not by your standards, now hurry.” And they rushed as fast as they could, back to the cottage.

Later, as they dried out before the fire, the knight told Undine and her parents the strange story of how he came through the woods.

“A week ago, in the city on the other side of the woods, there was a holiday and a tournament. I took part in the jousting. Amongst the onlookers I saw a face that I liked. She was a maiden; dark, and beautiful.

I rode up and asked her for her favour. She told me, "This sport is for boys. If you wish to win my favour, you must ride through the woods to the lake on the other side, and report back to me with news of whatever or whoever you find there."

I knew, of course, that the woods were supposed to be haunted, but I do not fear spectres or magical creatures. The next day I set out on my quest, and indeed I found a nest of goblins living in the trunk of a great tree. They were far more afraid of me than I was of their ugly green faces and pointed ears. I rode on. But then, towards night, I felt a chill on my back. I looked around and saw strange white figure running towards me. My horse took fright and reared. I tried to reign him in, but I fell from my saddle. That was how I hurt my leg. The strange figure had vanished. I felt unwell, and quite chilled to the bones, but I managed to gather my horse and ride on. Eventually I came out of the other side and saw the calm blue waters of the lake. That was when I knew I was near the end of my quest. I heard your kind voice offering me hospitality, and here I am. Do you find my story strange?”

“No,” said the girl. “The white man was Kühleborn. He is a demon of the lake and the forest, and he was up to his usual tricks. I am glad you were not hurt more badly when you fell from your horse.”

Now the time for stories was over, and they all found places to sleep in corners of the cottage. In the morning the storm was still raging, and the stream had grown more fierce. It was not safe to cross, and they were cut off from the way back to the city. For the next few days, the weather did not improve. Huldbrand and Undine spent much time together. She was less wilful now, and did no more than tease her knight gently. Her step parents could see that he was very taken with her.

When eventually the weather was good enough to go out, they ventured for a walk into the edge of the woods. When they returned, the knight asked the fisherman permission to marry his step daughter, which of course he granted.

That evening, there was a knock at the door. The fisherman opened and saw that standing before him was a priest. His robes were wet. He explained that he had stumbled into the stream while crossing it. “Father, come in and sit before the fire,” said the fisherman, kindly.

“We have work for you to do this very evening,” declared Undine. "For you can repay my step father’s hospitality by marrying me to my beloved knight!"

Undine insisted, as always, on having her way. She had a further surprise, for she revealed that in her little box of possessions she somehow had two gold rings that were ideal for the ceremony. That evening, when the priest was sufficiently dried out, they kneeled before him, exchanged their vows, and were married.

That might sound like classic fairy tale ending, but the story has some way to go yet. About a week later, Sir Huldbrand set out for his castle, taking his new wife and her step parents with him. The priest accompanied them too, for the evil things of the forest respected him, and would do the little party no harm, so long as the priest was with them. Occasionally they caught glimpses of the strange man in white, who seemed to be flittering from tree to tree, but Undine said in a low voice to her husband, “Do not be afraid. That is Lord Kühleborn, and he is my uncle. He is pleased that I am married to you for this was his plan all along.”

“There are so many strange things about you,” said the knight, “that I cannot possibly hope to understand them all.”

They walked through the forest without any untoward incidents, and on the other side hired to carriage to take his family to the castle in comfort.

The knight installed his beautiful young wife and her family in his castle. For a while, their happiness was perfect. But before long, in the long dark passages of the old castle, spectres began to appear. The servants were terrified, and even Sir Huldbrand found that strange, eerie sounds disturbed his sleep.

One morning Undine ordered some men to take a large stone and cover over the fountain in the courtyard. Huldbrand had loved the fountain since boyhood. Its water danced and played in the sunlight.

He asked his wife why she had ordered it to be stopped up, and she replied, “It will prevent my uncle, Lord Kühleborn, from disturbing us.” And from that moment on, haunting of the castle ceased.

A few weeks later, the knight received a small gift. It was a green lady’s glove, and to it was pinned a message:

"Is it worthy of a knight to forget his promise to a maiden?" It was signed with the name, Bertilda

When he read the note, Sir Huldbrand recalled the reason that he had made the journey to through the forest to the lake. He had been given the other glove of the pair by the maiden, Bertilda, and had promised to report to her with whatever he found in the lake by the forest. What could he do? A knight must keep his troth. He sent word inviting her and her parents to the castle. As it so happened, they arrived on the day of Undine’s 19th birthday. Sir Huldbrand received them with Undine at his side and said, “My Lady, you sent me on a quest to the lake beyond the woods, and asked me to show you what I found there - And here she is, my wife.”

He was not so naive as to think that Bertilda would be pleased by this news, but she smiled graciously.

Her father said, “Although I call myself the father of Bertilda and think of her as my own daughter, in fact, many years ago I found her abandoned in those very same woods. She was wet and cold and could not say where she lived. I took her home and feared that she might die of a fever, but as you see, things turned out well. Although we cannot know her true birthday, we have always celebrated it on this very day, which is the anniversary of my finding her.”

That evening they held a double celebration, with feasting, and music and dancing. But Sir Huldbrand noticed that the wife of the fisherman was staring at Bertilda. One time when the orchestra stopped playing, she flung her arms around Bertilda and said out loud so that all could hear, “My child!”

Bertilda pushed her away and said, “She’s lying, it’s not true!”

But the woman insisted, “I feel it. She is my child”

“How dare you say such lies,” called back Bertilda. “You accuse me of being the daughter of a wretched fisherman! You are a demoness!”

“She has grown wicked,” said the fisherman’s wife, “but still I know she is mine.”

“And I feel it too,” said her husband.

By now the argument was quite heated. The whole court was watching the quarrel unfold. Undine stepped forward to embrace Bertilda, “It’s true. You are my sister,” she said, “not by birth, but because we shared the same parents who cared for us.”

Later that night, Sir Huldbrand sat alone with his wife. He said, “Now it is time for you to tell me your story.”

She explained that her uncle, Lord Kühleborn, had taken the little girl, Bertilda, away from her true parents, the fisherman and her wife. In her place, she had given them his niece, Undine. She had been born as a water nymph. Water ran in her veins, and she could change shape at will. It was her nature to be mischievous and play tricks. And yet, it had always always been her dream to know what it felt like to have a human heart. Now that he had married her, that dream had become true. She had flesh and blood and feelings. So long as his love remained true, she would remain a mortal and live by his side.

Even in the morning, the stubborn Bertilda would not accept the kindly fisherman and his wife as her true parents. They were so broken hearted, that they left the castle and returned to their cottage. Her own foster parents were angry with her, and she quarrelled with them too. Yet she remained friends with Undine, and lingered on in the castle. Sir Huldbrand, Undine, and Bertilda would often go around together, walking arm-in-arm, and the trio were almost inseparable. Then one day, as they walked along the banks of the River Danube, Bertilda said “Oh, how I wish that one day I could see Vienna!”

“Yes, wouldn’t that be just splendid?” Agreed Undine. How could the noble Sir Huldbrand refuse the entreaties of two such beautiful ladies? He ordered for arrangement to be made, and a boat was prepared so that they could sale along the Danube to Vienna.

At first the pleasure cruise went smoothly, but then Undine’s Uncle, Lord Kühleborn, could not help but get up to his old tricks. He sent large waves to rock the boat from side to side, and made everyone on board feel sick. At night, he howled like the wind and kept them awake. Even Sir Huldbrand, was feeling quite terrible. Bertilda, who was practically green with motion sickness, complained to him, “If you had married me, a true woman, you would not have all these problems. Even if my parents truly are that wretched old couple, at least I do not have demons for relatives.”

Hulbrand, who as not at all himself, staggered up onto the deck where he found Undine staring at the choppy waves. Her face was white and her blond hair was blowing in the wind. He chided her and asked, “Can’t you do anything to stop your uncle?”

Undine said simply, “I can but try.” She went to stand in the prow of the boat and called out, “My Own Uncle, Lord Kühleborn, can you not accept that I am human now? You must leave me and my husband in peace!” Her voice had a magical, ethereal quality.

When he heard his niece, Lord Kühleborn rose his ghostly white head out of the waters before the ship. The sailors screamed as he picked up the prow and sent them all slipping and sliding across the deck, and to the back of the boat. At that moment, as he two was scrambling to get a hold of a rope or a mast, Huldbrand called, “Oh, why did I not marry Bertilda when I had the chance?”

These words went straight to Undine’s heart and shattered it. Her face was almost transparent. Her body took on a semi-liquid form, half woman - half water, and she slipped over the side of the boat and into the swirling River Danube.

Huldbrand clasped the rail and called after her, “Undine, forgive me, I did not mean what I said,” but it was too late - she was gone. The river was calm once again.

Huldbrand and Bertilda returned to the castle, and some time later they were married. One morning, Bertilda ordered the great stone to be removed from the fountain. Once again the waters played as cheerily as in Huldbrand’s boyhood. But that night, a watery apparition slid out of the well, and ran up the stairs of the castle. It flowed under the door of the room where Huldbrand slept beside his wife. The drops of water reformed themselves in the shape of a beautiful young woman. She placed her lips on the cheek of the knight as he slept, and she kissed him. In that moment, he was dead.

#undine #spooky fairy tales #fairy tale illustration #fairy tales #fairy tale art #fairy tale aesthetic #Arthur Rackham

[monstersandmaw]

Male merman x male reader (nsfw) - Mermay Story #2

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Well, plot happened amid my planned porn. Oh well! Here's 7692 words for you! It’s been up on Patreon on early release. My lovely patrons have just been told who’s up next, so if you want to know, and more importantly be involved in the next poll and get your sticker and reward when I hit 100 patrons, head on over to Patreon and sign up! 

Anyway, here's Connor. Light warnings for alcohol and the after-effects of a painful breakup. And... uh... two tentacle cocks. *shrugs*

___

Boxes.

Dozens of badly packed, disorganised, straining-at-the-seams cardboard boxes filled your new small seaside cottage, some marked, others not, all hastily packed, and the thought of dealing with them at the tail end of a long day was just… overwhelming.

In a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, you simply shut the front door behind you, with its cheery red paint peeling slightly under the influence of many a winter storm, and set off down the quayside with the only thing you’d not even packed away for the move: your camera.

It was your faithful workhorse, a chunky, veritable beast, and it earned you your living, so there was no way you’d risk packing it away in anything other than its soft, protective case for the move. It had sat beside you in the van as you’d driven it down the winding, cobbled streets of the old town of Starfall Springs, heading for your new home. And now as you set out into the spring evening, the pavements gleaming in the wake of a sudden shower, it hung around your neck, the familiar weight a comfort in the constant flux and chaos of moving house.

Seagulls whirled and wheeled overheard in crazy, lazy circles, and the constant lap and slap of the sea against the harbour wall and the hulls of the little pleasure and fishing crafts moored in the weedy harbour formed a constant backdrop to your evening walk.

Groups of locals gathered at the edge of the town to watch the sunset and stretch their legs after work or before dinner.

A minotaur’s hearty laugh made you look round, and you saw a blue roan centaur talking with the tiniest goblin you’d ever seen. She was barely three feet tall, and was standing on a bench to talk to the centaur, but she had him laughing and tossing his head with a very equine delight all the same.

A couple of gnoll cubs scrapped and snarled on the playground just set back from the harbour road, and a shy looking werewolf cub looked on in awe and longing.

You documented the light and the angles, but it was the stack of lobster pots, with their woven, birdcage appearance, that snagged your eye and drew you away from the more obvious spots towards the quieter shadows of the harbour.

Raising your camera to your eye, you tweaked the shutter speed as the light changed, and adjusted the focus with a subtle twist of your wrist.

Behind the network of the crisscrossing lines of the lobster and crab pots, the surface of the sea formed a calm, beaten bronze backdrop, gilded by the sinking sun, the tiny waves like hammer marks in a sheet of polished metal. You lost yourself for a moment, just staring out at it with boats bobbing and the waves nudging against the slimy stone of the harbour wall.

Breaking that magical surface, a figure appeared in the water for a moment, and you adjusted the focus instinctively, framing them as they breached the surface. The figure was one of the merfolk who lived in the area, and you almost regretted taking the photo without their knowledge. This was not a wildlife shoot after all, and despite the lithe, muscular tail, they were no mere fish. You’d worked with a rough and tumble tiger shark mer out on a shoot in the tropics the previous year, but aside from her, you’d had little contact with them. And every shoal and pod was different, especially in their attitudes towards humans. Some were chilled and helpful towards humans, while others were shy and reclusive, and there were those that were even predatory.

You assumed that here in Starfall Bay, the merfolk would be at least tolerant of humans. How tolerant of paparazzi humans they would be was a different matter, and you lowered your camera.

This mer was clearly enjoying the evening sun as much as the landfolk who strolled along the promenade. They rolled onto their back and you saw a long, lean, grey-blue tail rising up to balance them and hold them at the surface as they spread their arms and floated there like a snoozing sea otter; except this ‘sea otter’ had the lower half of a creature as lean and streamlined as a shark, or perhaps a marlin. This was a predator.

Your feet took you, almost without your realising it, towards the end of the harbour wall, and as you neared the final few yards of the curving stone cob, you felt a wild and bold urge sweep through you. You sat down on a rusty old cleat and dangled your feet off the edge, well clear of the waves, but it was obvious that you were watching the mer.

After no more than a minute, they saw you. Long black hair trailed in the water, and sharp, wet cheekbones glimmered in the sinking sun. A lopsided grin flashed, and they flipped over and swam a little closer. “Enjoying the show?” came the question in a husky, rich tenor voice.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you said.

“Sure. Not been this close to a mer before?” he said playfully, and in a flash of his powerful tail, he was mere metres from your dangling feet. If he’d wanted to, he could have darted up and yanked you into the water. The thought gave you a strange thrill. Instead, he floated there and looked up at you with dark eyes glittering.

“Just once,” you said carefully.

He raised a sculpted eyebrow at you. Gods, but he was handsome. He had one of those faces that could have been painted by an Old Master and hung in a gallery somewhere; all sharp angles that caught the light perfectly, and framed by a curtain of shoulder-length black hair. You’d have loved to have taken his photo in that moment, with the light playing so beautifully on his features. He had a row of pointed teeth too, like a shark. He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“She was a tiger shark mer,” you said, without elaborating further. Let him infer what he chose from that.

The mer grinned broadly, showing off all those pretty white teeth. “You like us dangerous I see…”

You snickered at that and leaned back on your hands, your camera resting on your chest. “She was helping me with a job.”

The mer turned from playful to curious in a heartbeat. “What kind of job?”

You waggled your DSLR at him. “Photography. We were trying to film green sea turtles for a program on endangered species, and she was one of the mer who guarded the reserve where they’re being protected.”

“Sweet,” he said. “Nice to see our two species actually working together for a change.” A tinge of bitterness crept into his voice, but you let it slide.

“I know. We both had a blast doing it.”

He grinned and then the smile slipped from his face and he turned away, webbed hands waving slightly in the clear water of the harbour to keep himself above water.

“You… ok?” you asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Fuck.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate. All the fun seemed to have gone out of him, like the sparkle of a bubble suddenly pricked and burst. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. He dipped beneath the surface and raked his clawed fingers through his long hair, scraping it back off his handsome face.

“What are you doing here in Starfall Springs?” he asked after a moment. “No endangered species here. Unless you’re documenting humans, that is…” he added with a wry smile. “Not too many of those here…”

“I actually just moved here,” you said gently, hoping that whatever it was that had darkened his mood would pass as swiftly as a scudding cloud.

He turned and looked directly at you. “Really?” he said. “Why did you settle on this place?”

You shrugged. “The lady I’m renting from had really good rates, and I want to expand my personal portfolio,” you said, camera in hand. “The landscape round here is amazing, particularly the coast.”

He smiled. “It’s gorgeous,” he agreed. “If you head slightly north there’s this huge sandy bay with enormous rock arches, and sometimes you can find fossils in the cliffs.”

“Sounds great,” you said, eyes going wide.

He paused. “I could show you if you like?” he said after a moment.

Your brows knitted. “You serious?”

He grinned. “Sure, why not?”

“I mean… you don’t exactly know me…?”

Again, the mer shrugged, a twinkle coming back to his eyes that made you lick your lips subconsciously. “So?” he said. “You free tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” you said. “Anything to put off unpacking all the boxes from the move…”

He laughed, a sound like sunlight on still water, and you found yourself beaming back at him.

“Ok, meet me tomorrow at 10am on the old bridge into town.”

“Wait, what?”

He simply grinned and disappeared with a flick of his tail, leaving you with about a million questions and no one to ask.

The next morning you made your way through the winding old streets of Starfall Springs and hurried towards the old bridge. You were wearing your usual ‘photography-ramble’ clothing - namely a nondescript and slightly nerdy t-shirt, and scruffy jeans - and the day was fast warming up. The bridge was empty when you arrived, but you checked the time and realised you were fifteen minutes early anyway.

You leaned your body against the ancient stones of the wall and peered over the edge. The water rushed down, clear and quick, from the eponymous springs above the town, and swept away into the harbour and out to sea. The way the water weed danced in the current was mesmeric, and, yes, incorrigible as ever, you whipped your camera out for a closeup of the textures and play of light on the water. It rippled, and yet was smooth as blown glass, and it caught your attention so fully that you almost didn’t notice the person approaching you until he came to a halt right beside you and leaned his backside against the wall and laughed, folding his arms across his slender chest.

You jumped, almost dropping your camera in surprise, though luckily the neck-strap earned its keep and saved the camera from a plummet to a soggy doom below (and not for the first time). You turned and had been about to scowl disapprovingly at the young man, both for invading your personal space quite so closely, and for interrupting you mid-photo, but the words died on your tongue when you recognised the handsome figure a second later. You knew your jaw was hanging open in shock, but you couldn’t wipe the stupid expression from your face.

The mer - who now had legs and clothes - simply tipped his head back, his long, blue-black hair tied in a low, scruffy bun at the nape of his neck, and laughed. “Oh man,” he said, eyes watering. “You should see your face.”

“But… how?” you faltered.

“Brackish mer,” he said. “We can shift at will. Though I still find these fuckers… weird,” he said, slapping one lean, skinny, denim-clad thigh with the palm of his hand. He wore a plain grey t-shirt and nondescript, slightly baggy jeans which rode invitingly low on his narrow hips. Your mouth went dry and you looked away.

“Well, that’s… unexpected,” you finally said.

“I’m Connor, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to you. His fingers bore traces of webbing between them, stretching between the first knuckles of his fingers. Another reminder that although he walked on human legs, he was not, in fact, the same species. Your eyes darted to his neck and, sure enough, you saw three faint, almost scar-like, lines where his gills should be. Or perhaps they were still there but had closed over for his time on land. Merfolk anatomy was still very much a mystery to you.

You shook his hand as you introduced yourself by name, and felt how cool his skin was against yours. His grip was strong, his hands hard and smoothly callused. You wondered fleetingly what they’d feel like on your body. Fuck. Not helping.

Even in this new human form, he still had his row of pointed, predatory teeth, of which you were granted a beautiful view when he hitched his lips up into a lopsided grin and said, “Ready?”

You nodded mutely and allowed him to lead you through the town towards the northern side. A wide road led out of Starfall Springs, and Connor talked a mile a minute about everything as you passed it. He pointed out the marketplace on your left, and added, “I sell my catches there on Fridays.”

“You mean… you’re…”

“A fisherman,” he said. “Yes. There’s literally nothing, save for maybe another marlin mer, that can out-swim me. Even the tuna. I work with a team of open-water fishermen. We catch tuna and other fish and bring ‘em to market once a week. Sometimes we’re out for longer though.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a month or even six weeks sometimes? Depends on what we want to catch.”

“Do many of your kind do that sort of work? Are the rest of your crew merfolk?”

Connor shook his head. “Nah. It’s just me with the fish-tail on the team. And… most of my folks just keep to themselves, you know? They don’t get why I like humans and landfolk so much, and even though they can shift, they don’t.”

You tilted your head and snatched a sidelong look at him as you walked. He was lean and clearly very fit, with no sign of being puffed or overly warm despite the growing heat of the summer day. You on the other hand were getting distinctly warm under the collar, though you weren’t sure if it was the sun or the presence of the gorgeous merman walking beside you that was causing the reaction. You had your suspicions, though you kept those firmly to yourself.

Connor caught the look you gave him and tossed you another carefree grin. “Not quite sure what you’re thinking, but I’ll take a wild guess. Not all merfolk can shift, you know? And not many can shift the way we do. The more we do it, the easier it gets. Though it still hurts like a bitch.”

“What’s so fascinating about us? I mean, why do you do it?” you asked. As you did so, you caught sight of a butterfly sunning itself on an old, stone mile-marker and paused to focus your camera on it. The two of you had come to the edge of the town now, and the rolling countryside slid away from you in a series of gentle, undulating slopes adorned with orchards and vineyards to the north west, and the coastal road slid away to the north east.

All the while you snuck closer to the butterfly, Connor stayed silent and still on the road behind you, and when you’d got so close you could see the feather-like mosaic of colours on the butterfly’s wings through the view-finder, you snapped some shots, checked them reflexively, and then pulled back and blushed slightly to find him staring at you.

“What?” you challenged gently.

Connor only grinned and said, “Nothing. I just… wouldn’t have noticed that. You’ve got a quick eye, you know?”

You answered his gesture with one of your own. “Comes with the career, I guess.”

He led you off down a rugged footpath, having left your question about the fascination of landfolk unanswered, and as you passed by a battered-looking hut on your right, nestled among tall, flowering grasses dotted here and there with poppies, he said, “A friend of mine lives there. He’s a mer too, but he actually spends most of his time on land. Fuck though, you should see him as a mer. He’s got this big orca tail and these gorgeous markings…” he sighed.

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush,” you blurted.

Connor barked a laugh. “I did,” he admitted. “As a teenager, I crushed so hard on him that I forgot how to swim once and crashed straight into a wreck. He never let me live it down. We actually dated for a while when we were a bit older. Didn’t work out, but we’re still close.”

“That’s nice,” you mused, staring at the ramshackle cottage covered in honeysuckle and creeping ivy. “My exes don’t tend to want anything to do with me.”

“Is that a human women thing, or…?”

“Men,” you said absently, raising your camera to your eye to snap a quick shot of a passing seagull soaring just off the high cliffs below you.

“Oh,” he said, and when you looked back at him, he was staring at his shoes.

You smiled a soft, wonky smile, and continued in silence for a little bit, until the cove below opened up fully before you, and you gasped. “That’s gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Isn’t it?” He raised his hand, his bare, slender arms muscular and so inviting, and pointed at the rock arch at the end of the sweeping, sandy bay. “There are often fossils in that bit. You want to go take a closer look? See what we can find?”

His playful attitude was infectious, and the two of you were soon scrambling down the sandy, scree-slope path to the beach. At one point your soles slipped on the gravelly surface and you sat down hard on your backside with a grunt. Connor, three paces ahead of you on the narrow path, turned abruptly and snorted at the sight of you. “You alright?” he asked. When you nodded, a bit winded, he held out his hand again, and you accepted it without question and let him yank you back onto your feet.

The tide was creeping slowly out, leaving a swathe of dark, hard, wet sand behind, and the beach was littered with little shells and other gifts that the retreating water had left behind. Connor drifted away towards the waves and began to toss bits of debris at passing gulls, never close enough to hit, but accurately enough to make them wheel away, shrieking indignantly, which only made the mer laugh and yell at them.

In the short few hours you’d been with him, you’d come to love that laugh. His voice was husky and rough, like the rasp of dune marram grass disturbed by the wind, and his dark hair glimmered with a hint of blue in the strong sunlight. But there was something else to him that spoke of hidden currents beneath the surface. In moments when he thought you were otherwise occupied, the laughter died in him and a hollow sadness crept in at the edges.

It felt as though he were trying to forget something, trying to put something behind him, and he was focusing on you as an excuse to do it.

You barely knew him, so you didn’t press, but as you neared the cliffs and he wandered over to them, running his fingertips over the jagged, crumbling surfaces of the sandstone, you watched him more closely. He walked recklessly close to the base of the cliffs, picking at flaky portions of the rock until a rain of bits and dust scattered to the sandy beach at his feet.

“Connor?” you asked after watching him for a while.

“Mm?” The mer did not look up.

“What are you doing?”

He paused but still didn’t turn round. “Looking for fossils. Sometimes you can find ammonites and belemnites and…” he trailed off when he turned and saw the look on your face.

You shook your head. “I mean… why are you doing this with me? You saw some human taking photos at the harbour yesterday, and the next thing you’re volunteering to take me fossil hunting along the coast.”

“Can’t I want to do something nice for a handsome stranger?” he asked, a slight bite to his playful tone.

You simply looked at him flatly. “Sure you can,” you said. “But…”

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. Sections of his dark hair had come loose in the stiff breeze, and they whipped across his pale face and into his dark eyes.

You nodded. “Sorry I pushed,” you muttered, turning away and walking along the cliffs for a bit, hoping that a moment of privacy would give him a chance to recover.

The mood was different after that. The wind seemed to have a chill to it that you’d not noticed earlier, the calls of the seabirds almost mocking now, and as Connor slouched along the wet sand, he scuffed his heels and kept his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m hungry,” he said after perhaps half an hour of walking along the beach. “You want to head back to town?”

“Sure.”

The house martins’ high, trilling calls filled the air above as they darted in and out of their nests in the eaves of the old buildings with their terracotta roves and sandstone walls. You watched them and tried to snap some shots of them with your long lens. Connor watched you curiously and when you turned back to him he smiled softly, some of the warmth returning to his face. His skin was pale and smooth as porcelain, save for a few scars here and there, his cheekbones high and sharp, and his lips… there was something inviting about his soft lips. They curled slightly at the corners, making you think of stolen kisses and secret smiles.

He walked with you back to your house in near silence, but when you asked him inside, he shook his head. “Nah, I should to get back to the sea. Too much time on land isn’t good for me. Not just… physically…”

“Right. Well, thanks for today… for showing me around a bit. I had fun.”

Connor shrugged one shoulder, hands still in his pockets. “Figured it’d be a nice thing to do, you know? Since you don’t know anyone here yet.”

“I appreciate it. Let me know if you want to meet up again some time…”

A little light kindled in his dark eyes and he flashed you a sharp-toothed grin. “Alright,” he said. “I will. And I look forward to seeing your photographs in the gallery sometime soon…”

You answered him with a shy smile of your own and watched him walk away down the narrow, cobbled street, his hands in his pockets, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the road directly in front of him.

After a day which had turned out in an entirely different way from the one you had imagined for yourself when you’d woken up, you settled down later that evening, having edited all your photos of the trip, and sank onto the old, squashy, comfy sofa, and sighed. There were still boxes everywhere, but now, with at least a fleeting connection made, you felt more tethered to the place. The task of unpacking didn’t seem so daunting, somehow. It seemed… worth it.

A bashing at your door just after ten o’clock frightened the living daylights out of you.

You stood and cautiously went to the front door, heart hammering in your chest, almost louder than the pounding on the wood. No one here knew you yet, and there was no call for anyone to be thudding away at the little red door at this time of night, surely?

Peeking through the tiny, warped glass window, you saw a pale face and frowned. It looked like Connor, but he’d said he was going back to the sea.

You opened it and found him listing heavily to one side, like a ship floundering on a reef, leaning all his weight against the thick wall of your cottage, his hair hanging loose into his face. “Shit,” he said when he saw your eyes wide with surprise. “Shit, I shouldn’t… Fuck.”

His words were thick and slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Connor? What happened?”

“So… I didn’t go back after all,” he said, swaying again and staggering as his body tried to adjust and correct. “Fuck.”

“Here,” you said, stepping forward and scooping your arm under his to help him inside. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled. You’d dealt with drunk friends before, and manoeuvred him easily enough onto the sofa you’d just vacated.

“Walking is fucking hard,” he commented when you were halfway there. “I mean… I can just about manage at the best of times, but fuck me… I mean, you don’t have to do that. That’s not why I came here. You are gorgeous though. But… ah… fuck.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” you smiled, easing him down onto the sofa and taking a look at the greenish tinge to his cheeks. “Hey, you gonna throw up?”

“Maybe?” he said. Then, the more he thought about it, the greener he got.

“You sit tight. I’ll find a bowl or something. And a glass of water.”

When you came back, he was leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he said, and you instinctively shoved the bowl into the space in front of him. Just in time.

His body heaved and you rested the bowl on his knees while you held his hair back out of the way. You’d done this for girls at college who’d had hair as long as his, but you’d never done it for a guy. Somehow it felt different. More intimate, despite the fact that he was still practically a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say again between heaves.

It wasn’t long before he recovered enough for you to be able to leave him and deal with the bowl. When you returned, you found him, ashen-faced, sipping the water and looking frankly about as miserable as a wet raccoon. He even had the shadows under his eyes too, for sure.

“What happened?” you asked tentatively, sitting down beside him.

“Got thinking,” he said without opening his dark eyes.

“About?”

“Him.”

“Who’s ‘him’?” you asked, instantly knowing you were going to regret bringing this topic up.

He swallowed. “My ex.”

“Ah.”

“I had fun today, you know?” Connor said, casting you a careful, sideways look through squinted eyes. His dark gaze was still unfocused and glassy, but the pain in his eyes was clear as day. “It was nice. But it made me think…”

“Yeah, that can happen,” you said.

“He was a human too,” he said. “Is. He’s still around. Doing fine. Moved on to someone easier to be with, I guess. Someone who doesn’t need to sprout a fucking tail and go back to the sea. Hey, you know what he said? Right before he broke up with me?”

This was not a healthy line of conversation, but for now, you allowed it, sensing that he needed someone new with whom he could talk this through. He’d probably exhausted his friends with it already. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘you’ve got a nice ass, Connor, when you’re a human. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck a fish!’”

“Thats… wow, that’s callous.”

“Right? I’m not even a fish! Mer aren’t fish. We’re not mammals either. Fuck knows what we’re classed as. I don’t even care. But you can definitely fuck a mer. That’s for sure.”

“So, tell me then… how does alcohol affect mer?”

“Can’t you see?” he said sourly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, but… you gonna be ok?”

“I’ve been drunk before.”

“Why didn't you go back to the sea earlier? Have you been drinking all this time?”

Connor shook his head and then rapidly looked like he regretted it. He groaned and sat back on the sofa, eyes fluttering closed once again. “I walked up to the springs for a bit. I’m not… I’m not normally like this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I don’t normally get drunk.”

The sadness in his tone struck you deeply. “I get it,” you said. “Breakups suck.”

“He sucks,” Connor retorted petulantly. “Ah, fuck. I should go. I don’t want you to see me like this. Not when… not… not after…” he broke off, shaking his head. He tried to stand but his knees gave way a little and he veered sideways.

You shot up to catch him before he face-planted onto the floor and, laughing gently, you laid him back down on the sofa. “You stay right there,” you said, helping him to lie down. “Sleep it off. Let me grab a blanket.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyelids already drooping.

By the time you returned with a blanket from a box upstairs, he was sound asleep. He was going to have one wicked hangover in the morning though.

You took his shoes off for him, surprised by how cold his feet were despite the socks and the temperature of the room. Maybe merfolk just ran cold; you recalled the coolness of his palm from earlier and shrugged. Somehow, he was still gorgeous, even pass-out drunk on your sofa.

You left the, now clean, bowl within hurling distance and hoped he wouldn’t need it, and made sure he was lying comfortably on his side with a cushion beneath his head. He didn't wake as you lifted him gently and slid the small cushion under his cheek, but you were surprised when he let out a deep, sleepy moan at your touch.

“Sleep well,” you said as you headed upstairs, leaving him with a large glass of water.

Morning came and you stretched groggily. It was only as you thought about taking yourself in hand to ease out the tension of your morning wood that you remembered that you were not alone in the house. Lying there for a little while longer, thinking about Connor and the sharp, chiselled planes of his face, did not help matters, and eventually you relented and closed your fist around your cock. You gasped at the rush of pleasure, and it wasn’t long at all til you were spilling into your hand, thinking about what it might be like to be with the merman. Guilt rushed in to replace the elation of your release when you remembered that he was not long into the first stages of post-breakup hell, and thinking about him that way was probably not the most appropriate thing in the world.

After a perfunctory clean up, you dressed and headed downstairs. The moment you reached the bottom of the staircase, you froze. The sounds drifting from the living room were not the sounds of morning pleasure. In fact, at a faint little whimper, you shot forwards into the room and saw that Connor was lying on his back on the sofa, writhing weakly and gasping.

“Connor?”

“Help,” he rasped, clawing at the blanket. As it slid slowly off him, you realised with a jolt of shock that the pile of clothing on the floor was his discarded jeans and t-shirt from the night before. Your eyes shifted back to his legs and you gasped. His skin was in the process of fusing together, turning dark and shadowy, his legs pressed together and clearly trying to become a tail.

“What do I do?” you asked helplessly. “Connor…”

He wheezed and jutted his head back, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His hands were clawed now, the webbing stretching right up to the tops of his fingers, and visible as he flexed and balled his fingers in obvious pain. He looked across the room at you with his large, dolorous eyes, and tried to smile. “I…” a long, rattling inhale followed, and when he was finally able to speak again, he added, “I should have gone back to the sea. I -” he broke off with a sharp cry as his legs fused into a tail and his skin darkened to the familiar grey-blue you’d glimpsed in the water. The fan of his tail spread across the far end of the sofa, looking strangely like crumpled tissue paper.

“You’re gonna be heavy,” you said, “But I could probably carry you to the harbour from here if you need to be in the water. It’s not far. Maybe only a hundred yards or so?”

“Would you?” he asked, gratitude surging in his expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said. In fact, you were the one worrying. He looked dried out, and probably the alcohol from the previous night wasn’t helping in the dehydration stakes. “C’mon. Let’s give it a go.”

You opened the front door and grabbed your keys before turning back to the merman who had now completed his transformation and was lying limply on the couch, breathing rapidly and shallowly. There was still a tight wheezing to his breaths, and you noticed how the gills on his neck had opened in a futile attempt to draw in more air.

“You good?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I will be. Shit, I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it off but… I can’t stay ‘human’ on land for too long. I pushed it by staying last night.”

Connor’s pale cheeks flushed crimson as you stooped and slid your arms under his tail and around his torso. He immediately latched his arm around your neck, and you rose, staggering slightly.

“Fuck, you’re heavier than you look…” you grunted.

“Isn’t that romantic,” he quipped, turning his face away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been an interesting time lately for you. And nothing says ‘getting to know a guy’ like carrying him ‘bridal style’ to the water and tossing him in… you know?”

Connor managed a weak laugh. “I knew you were a good’un when I first saw you.”

“No you didn’t,” you retorted, letting the front door slam shut behind you.

“You’re right. I just saw a good looking guy and thought I’d try and get into your pants to make me feel better. Happy now?”

“You’re not in my pants…” you pointed out, grunting again as you adjusted his weight.

“No, but I’m in your arms. That’s pretty close…” He turned serious and added, “But you deserve more than some rebound fuck… I’m… I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“I’m not,” you said. “My back might be tomorrow, but…”

Connor laughed again, and buried his face at your collarbone. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Let’s get you to the harbour first, and then we can talk about making up. Or out…”

His grin was broad and toothy and genuine, and it went some way to reassuring you that he’d be ok.

It was a long, hard slog to the harbour, but you made it and just pitched him over the wall so that he fell, undignified and flailing, into the harbour mouth with a disgruntled squawk that made you laugh. The splash of his landing got you all the way up the front, but you sat down on the edge of the wall as he circled a little in the water, drawing water through his parched gills, and then bobbed up at the surface again, looking sheepish.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes fixed on his hands as he floated there in front of you.

“No problem,” you replied. “Seriously. I know what it’s like to go through a rough breakup. It’s shit. You seem like a good guy, and I’m happy to be here for you. I’d like to get to know you better anyway… regardless of what…  you know… might happen down the line. Or not.”

Connor’s smile was as broad and white as it had ever been. “Thanks. I… I’m not sure I deserve that, but thanks anyway.”

“Look, I’ll let you get sorted out for now, but if you’re free tomorrow, meet me at the cove with the fossils again? You don’t have to come on legs this time either.”

He nodded, seeming surprised at your last comment. “Alright. I’ll see you there. What time?”

“Just before sunset?”

Connor nodded once more, and then disappeared in a flash of his tail as he sped away through the clear water of the harbour, out to the brackish waters of the estuary beyond the protective curve of the wall.

At sunset the following day, you had taken your shoes off and were enjoying the cool water with your jeans cuffed up when a splash further out to sea signalled the arrival of Connor. He looked brighter, healthier, and he powered up through the gentle, lapping surf and dragged his body up above the tide line to join you. “Hi,” he said, rolling onto his back and splaying his arms out at his sides like a starfish to recover his breath after the effort. “Fuck. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’m not a complete drunken loser, I swear.”

“Like I said, I get it,” you said, standing beside him and staring out at the sun as it sank low above the horizon, heavy and as searing as a blacksmith’s coal over the water. You looked down at him then, and something began to thrum in you. You’d yet to see all of him like this, as he truly was, and he was even more beautiful than he’d been in his ‘human’ form. You hissed a soft curse to yourself, but he heard it and flashed a frown at you.

“What?”

“You’re… You’re stunning, Connor. I don’t know what your ex was thinking, but… you’re beautiful like this. Especially in this light.”

Connor blushed and looked away. Then, with a snort of laughter, he grabbed your ankle and knocked your knee out from behind you, sending you sprawling into the wet sand beside him. Your jeans soaked up the seawater instantly, and you gasped at the shock of the cold water.

He pulled you close and crushed a kiss against your lips before you had time to register it, and you found your body responding instantly. “Connor,” you panted, drawing back and finding his pupils fully dilated. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “I want you. Please…”

You ran your hands down his slender torso, to where his hips melted into the rough, pale skin of his shark-like lower half. The skin there was tough as fine sandpaper, and as you skimmed over his hips, he arched his spine and whimpered.

“Connor?”

“So good,” he mumbled. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

You lavished attention on the transition point at his hips, and he was soon a writhing, squirming wreck, left beached high above the retreating tide. His tail flopped uselessly, and his clawed fingers raked furrows in the hard, wet sand. He bucked upwards into you and you found a slit swelling and opening in his lower body. It was slick and as you guided your fingers to it, running your fingertips around the hot, silky walls of the inside, he yelped and moaned, biting his lip and swearing. “Fuck, yes, there… fuck. Fuck!”

And as you slid your fingertips further inside the slit, you found that the puffy, smooth walls hid a delightful surprise. Not one, but two cocks began to swell inside, and as you ran your finger along the slick interior, a large tentacle-like cock slid free and writhed idly in the cool, evening air. The second cock, a little smaller but equally hard and eager, slipped free a moment later, and writhed beside it.

“Well,” you said. “Isn’t that a surprise.”

Connor smirked softly and raised his hips weakly. “Please…” His cocks were leaking already, and a line of pre-come hung between them from tip to tip.

“How could you not have been enough for anyone?” you mused aloud, growing painfully hard yourself. Your cock was soon straining at your boxers, and you ached to run it between his twin cocks and feel the slickness of his heat against your body. “Can I?” you asked, and he nodded instantly.

You took both of his cocks in one hand and pumped them gently, the way you’d have taken a human’s cock in hand when just starting out, warming up and teasing. Connor tipped his head back and moaned deliciously, exposing his pale throat to you as he tried to grind his hips up into your hand, seeking more contact, more friction… more.

“Please…” he gasped a moment or two later. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Anything, dammit,” he snarled, teeth on show. “Anything, just… it’s… it’s not enough… and… and I want to see you. Please, let me see you.”

“Just see?” you teased.

You were met with another growl and a row of white teeth.

“I’m not letting those pearly whites near my cock unless you grow some manners,” you snickered as you undressed, heedless that this was a public (if quiet) beach.

Once naked, you watched as Connor’s eyes drifted down your body to your hard cock and his pupils soared even wider. “Fuck, look at you,” he said. “You’re fucking perfect…”

“Connor, I want… I want to… but…”

“My slit…” he said. “Fuck my slit. Please. I’m slick enough…”

You needed no more encouragement.

You straddled the merman, feeling the hard, rough skin of his shark-like tail between your thighs, before you leaned over him, lowering your hard cock towards his own. His two cocks were both weeping, the tentacle-like shapes twisting in the cold air, desperately seeking out heat and contact. When they found your own, painfully hard cock, they instantly began to coil around your length, gripping you with incredible strength. They were leaking and wet, slippery and searingly hot, and you felt your balls tighten at the way they twined around you.

You swore and Connor groaned as you rocked your hips between them. His two cocks spiralled around your own gripping you so tightly it stole your breath completely. You swore, head tipping forwards over him as sparks ignited along your spine. His clawed hands found your back and he raked delicate, red lines across your skin as you rutted into him.

Your tip hit the entrance of the slit which contained his two cocks, and he cried out as you entered him.

“You want me… to stop?” you asked, breathless.

He shook his head. “Fuck no. Keep going. That’s amazing…”

You slid into him and as you did, his cocks gripped you tighter. “I’m not gonna last much longer if…” one of his cocks coiled around your balls and slid towards the cleft of your cheeks. “Oh fuck, Connor, I’m.. That’s…”

“You don’t want me to?” he managed to whisper.

“Please,” you said. “I need you…

And with your cock now buried fully in his slick sheath, and with one of his cocks wrapped tightly around your shaft, you felt his other cock slip inside you. The intrusion wasn’t as painful as you’d though it was going to be, having had no preparation, but perhaps that was because of the shape of him, and because it was the slightly smaller cock that was sinking into your ass. The tip of it nudged suddenly against your prostate and you saw white.

His other cock clenched around your own, and as he hit you again and again in that bundle of nerves, you cursed, grabbed his shoulders, bowed your head, and as that heat surged inside you, you spilled all over his chest. A second or two later, while you were still twitching and convulsing through your own release, Connor found his peak and emptied himself over his own stomach, and inside you with a wild, high yell of pleasure.

You felt his release hit you deep inside as well, and after a few seconds, it began to slide from you as his second cock softened a little.

His whole body twitched and shuddered, his eyes had rolled closed, and his chest gleamed with sweat.

Eventually he came back to you, and his tentacle-like cock unravelled from around your own and you rolled off him into the wet sand beside him. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his pale skin was flushed and heated with the exertion.

Connor reached clumsily across the space between you and ran his leathery palm over your stomach and up your chest to your neck where your heartbeat pounded. Limply, he rolled onto his side and kissed your throat, raking his teeth gently over your sensitive, flushed skin. “Gods, I came so hard…”

You snorted a smile back at him and he laughed, flopping back into the sand. “What are we doing?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But… I’m willing to see where it goes, if you are?”

“You mean you’re happy to fuck a fish?” he asked bitterly.

You rolled your eyes. “I just did, didn’t I?”

Connor offered you a lopsided grin and met your eyes askance. “Yeah. You did. Did you like it?”

You eyed the mess you’d both made of his torso pointedly.

Connor gave a final smile and pushed himself upright. Your combined mess slid down his front and you watched as his cocks retreated back into the sheath with slow, deliberate pulses.

He caught you watching him and blushed crimson.

“What?” you asked.

“I… Nothing,” he said, still not meeting your eye.

“You really are beautiful,” you said.

“Even like this?” he said with a deliberate flick of his tail.

You scowled and sat up too, reaching out and taking the back of his head in your hand.

His hair was wet, and he tasted of the sea, but you didn’t care.

You kissed him hard, biting his lip and making him moan and his eyes roll shut again.

When you pulled back, you practically growled, “Especially like this, Connor.”

************************************

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#merman #mermay #mlm #exophilia #mlm exophilia #male merman #male merfolk #male monster #male reader #alcohol

[cyberdva]

Lost Grieving- Richie Tozier X Reader {Chapter 1☆}

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ 

Summary- The reader gets stuck in strange implications and finds herself in Derry, Maine, the location of the infamous Steven King book ‘IT’. Unknowingly she stumbles across the Neibolt House, the dirty and burnt remains of a tragic fire. She remembers what horrors had happened and is hesitant to stay. What will happen when she runs into the one and only Losers Club? What will they do if the strange new girl claiming to be from another universe, tells them they’re all made up characters from a book? Will she help them ‘defeat’ the morbid Pennywise or give up and be lost in perishable hell forever, filled with lost grieving. Proceed with caution when you drive into this tale of horror, humor, and a handful of twisted romance with Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ 

Main Masterlist 

IT Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 (+)

Chapter 2

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded: 10/17/19

A/N: The first chapter got so much love, so I knew I had to write the next chapter ASAP!! Thank you guys so much!! Also the long italicised paragraphs is an excerpt from the book to put into perspective the problem from a background source, kind of like an example basically. 

Warnings: Cursing

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Excuse me?” the small boy peered up at me, he picked up what seemed to be an inhaler. He didn’t have his signature cast yet, I was here before most of the catastrophe. How should I approach him, there’s no way I’m telling him directly, he wouldn’t believe me. What the hell should I tell him then? He stared at me like I was crazy, taking a step back for good measure. I mean I don’t blame him, I look like I’ve been rolling in the dirt. I panicked, it was going to happen one way or another.

 “Uh, I think I’m lost.” It was a simple explanation, he kept looking at me, like I had five heads. 

He gave me a swift look of disgust, probably since I was covered in dirt. “I’m sorry my mom told me not to talk to strangers.” Shit. He was the germaphobe, eternally clung to his mother’s side, until she dies at sixty-six. 

“I’m sorry, I need to get home.” He brushed past me and jumped at the sudden contact, his pills flooded out from his fanny pack and piled onto the ground. Some rolled forwards while most of them flew in different directions. An abundance of different pill bottles fell next, the short boy looked at the now germ infested medicine in horror. 

I didn’t know what to do,”Do you want my help or would you prefer me not to touch?” He dropped to the ground and sorted pills by color and stuffing them back into the right tube.

“How do I know that you’re not some psychopath that could kill me?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Fair point, just grab the red ones. Be careful my mom will flip of she figures out what just happened.”

Ah, Mrs.Kaspbrak, a woman that completely overprotects her child to the point of isolation and creates illnesses just to keep him ‘safe.’ I thought of the book, how it showed his mom slowly incasing his youth in a small orange pill bottle.

-

Eddie gasped. He could see a foot floating inside a shole filled with green smoke. The bones in his foot! He crossed his great big toe over his second toe and the eldritch bones in the scope made an X that was not white, but goblin-green. He could see-

His mother shrieked, a rising sound of panic cut through the quiet shoe store like a runaway reaper-blade, like a firebell, like doom on horseback. He jerked his startled, dismayed face out of the viewer and saw her pelting towards him across the store in her stocking feet, her dress flying out behind her. She knocked a chair over and one of those shoe-measuring things that always tickled his feet went flying. Here bosom heaved. Her mouth was a scarlet O of horror. Faces turned to follow her progress.

“Eddie get off there!” she screamed. “Get off there!” Those machines give you cancer! Get off there! Eddie! Eddieee-!” 

-

I remember that chapter, I felt so bad for Eddie and yet I’m here ‘talking’ to him. Reality keeps straying quicker and quicker away from me. Next thing you know I’ll be fooling around with the damn Losers Club. As fun as that seems I had ongoing worry, is my mom ok? Will I be ok? Am I in a coma?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my fate, could I be dying. Is this the last moment I’ll spend until my time is up. In Derry, Maine! The ‘shittiest place on earth.’ After all these murders and that clown rampaging in the sewers I see why the town was coined the title.

Most importantly to the subject, why does Eddie have so many pills? We began to pick each up out of the sorting it didn’t take long to pick them all up. No eye contact was made, my chances were dialing, if anyone could help me with this phenomena it would be the clown-fighting teens.

Eddie looked around, “I’m missing one.” How the hell does he know that. Lurking silence was downed upon us as we glanced around a grim voice cut in.

“Do you think this will help me, Eddie?”

 We whipped our heads above us, a creature will drool castading out from its mouth crouched holding the last red pill. Its hair was knotted, ratty. Lumps and sores were plucked all over its thin and lanky body. There was no nose, horrible retching sounds came out of it as it inhaled and exhaled. Ripped cloth adorned the body, bandages came as a pair. A huge pile of them were attached to its left ‘foot.’ A moan escaped his mouth area, Eddie groaned. The two of us scattered as we ran from the monster. I remembered this from the newer movie and book, IT is here, he found us. How can I even see it, only people affected by….. Shit. The monster got up and limped towards us, we were cornered. I was racked with fear, tears filled my eyes and my vision was inconceivable. It screamed and retched as we ran towards the dirty Neibolt house. The makeshift cast banged against the ground with such force and rhythm, he was on our tails. 

 Eddie made sure to check back to see if he was dreaming or not, his nerves got the best of him and he kept tripping. A few tears escaped my eyes, I couldn’t be scared isn’t that what the clown wants? I know I couldn’t die from this, but if I see IT what will stop me from just that. We reached a fence, the screaming stopped, as did the banging. I glanced behind me. This can’t be real.

 Above all the grass and weeds was what you could only read about, what you could only dream about, something that you should never see in real life. It should’ve been a fictional character, in a book, but there it was, right in front of me. That’s when I realized I can’t go back, how can I wake up from this, it’s real. It has to be.

                              Pennywise the Dancing Clown.

 Rows of red, rubbery balloons covered his face. His white clown outfit hung in ruffles with three red pom-poms. The balloons went above his head, disappearing into oblivion. A crooked smile was slapped across his face. ‘Just Kill me now.’ I thought. It was him, down to the makeup and hair. Eddie was petrified. 

“Where ya going Eds?” His voice made a shiver go up my spine.                                         “Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

The clown looked over to me, “And you, Y/N. You can’t go home, can you?” He giggled. What does he mean, why can’t I go home. I want to be in bed, waiting for that last day of school.

“Come join the clown Eds.” Eddie looked at me. “You’ll float down here.” IT shrugged his shoulders.

“We all float down here. Yes we do!”

A shrill laugh came out of its mouth, why did this have to happen to me! Eddie screamed and I followed him as we ran through a fence parting. His breaths were choppy, the boy fell once more and the sound of a balloon popping was all that was left.

He glanced back at me, “Please tell me you saw that too.”

#eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier imagines #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #it #it ch 1 #pennywise #richie tozier x you

[firelxdykatara]

Writers’ block? Would you mind writing me a short story about a door or an old cat or two friends sharing ice cream? Please don’t spellcheck or think too much about it. Just write something quick and fun, release your dam!

There was a door at the bottom of the steps.

As far as Sara knew, it had never been opened. At the very least, not recently. Weeds had grown all around the edges, tiny, water-seeking roots latched into every crack in the stone of the wall surrounding it, leeching moisture from the wood of the door itself. The lock and knob must have been brass or copper-colored at one point, but years had oxidized the metal to a funny sort of blackish-green. The key-hole was scratched around the edges, as if it had been unlocked at some point (possibly many points) by unsteady hands which kept missing the mark, but it was also so fully of gunk that the girl wasn’t sure she would be able to get it open at all, even if she had the key.

There was no key, her mother insisted. Stop playing around that musty old door and come in for dinner.

No one would ever tell her where the door was supposed to lead.

Sara had quite the imagination, though, so that wasn’t any particular problem. In between tea parties with friends and horseback riding with her cousins, she would return to that door at the bottom of the steps in the back of the garden and try to visualize what must be behind it.

Perhaps it was a portal to other worlds, she would think. She imagined opening it to find raging seas of emerald green, a blood-red sun rising in a purple sky, dragons swooping across the skyscape chasing each other’s tails.

(it was her fantasy world, there could be dragons if she wanted.)

Other times, she imagined fantastic adventures. Peter Pan would step through the door and whisk her away to Neverneverland, and she would kick Captain Hook in the shin until he toppled overboard, never to torment the Lost Boys again. Alanna the Lioness would take her to Tortall and fight for her right to become a knight and defend the kingdom from invaders. Sherlock Holmes would need her help to solve a mystery--King Jareth would want a Queen by his side to rule the goblins.

In the beginning, she’d been almost desperate to find a key--there had to be a key--and open the door to find what lay beyond. But the more fanciful her imaginings became, the less and less she wanted to discover the truth. Sure, her inquisitive mind wanted answers to questions, but there was every risk that whatever lay beyond that rock-lined portal was horribly mundane. At this point, disappointment was more than she wanted to risk.

Still, almost every day she went out to the back of the garden, hopped down the uneven staircase, and settled in for another session of wild imaginings.

Her mother was concerned--there were always stains on the back of her dresses where she sat on them, and frequently holes in the knees of her tights when she tried to climb things in imitation of her life on-board a pirate ship--but every time she went to check, the door was closed, and her daughter was in easy view.

It was a phase she would grow out of, surely.

For Sara, though, the door had become more than just a gateway for her imagination--it had become a friend. And it witnessed everything. Her first kiss with a boy, who was far too tall for it to be legal, and then her first kiss with a girl, who had dimples and a wicked grin. Her first heartbreak, too. Then the death of a beloved pet, buried only a few feet away in the garden itself.

That night, she imagined the door lead to the place all pets went after they passed away, and that if only she could open it and get to the other side, she could see her cat again. It was the first time she was truly desperate to get the door open, slamming her fists against the wood and then falling to her knees, sobbing, until the dreadful wave of grief passed and she felt mostly human.

Eventually, though, other things did begin to take up her time. School was demanding, relationships taxing, and then one day she was moving out of her mother’s house. For all the door had been there through, Sara bid it a fond farewell, her fiance looking on with a somewhat bemused expression as she pressed a soft kiss to the wood and turn away.

It would be years before she returned.

When she did, there was grey in her hair, and wrinkles on her face, and she carried a small urn which held her husband’s ashes. Her mother had passed long ago, buried in the family plot on the other side of the property, and she had returned home to set affairs in order after the illness had finally run its course.

“It has been a long time, old friend,” she whispered to the door, urn cradled in deceptively strong arms. She sat with her back against the wood, and set the urn down beside her. “I know you would never open for me before. But maybe, after all this time...”

There was no response. She hadn’t really thought there would be, but what harm could there have been in trying?

Finally, enough time passed, and she stood, pressing a kiss to the top of the urn before settling it back next to the door. Then she turned away, but before she could walk more than a few steps, she heard what sounded suspiciously like a lock clicking open.

Slowly, as if fearing it might not be real, she turned. There was a low whine like the creak of hinges and, impossibly, the door was opening.

Soft, golden light spilled across the little walk and up the steps behind her, and as the door opened further, she thought she recognized a silhouette in the doorway.

Come. Everyone is waiting.

A hand outstretched, and Sara stared for a moment before reaching for it herself.

Why don’t I show you what I’ve been hiding?

For the first time in years, her bones didn’t ache as she walked. Years melted away like snow in the sun, and Sara’s smile outshone the light pouring from the door as she grabbed the hand offered to her.

It was time.

-------

thank you, anon! this was a lovely little exercise, though i’m not sure how much sense anything makes lmao. hope you enjoyed it though!

#my writing #writing exercises #short story #asked #Anonymous

[thesalemsaga]

𝟭 — 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿

—  𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.8k words

𝙨 : salem, the mistress of evil, has been made aware of a resistance group being made within the walls of the empire academy, valhalla. meanwhile, young seren has a bit of an epiphany.

the most unfortunate thing about the mistress’s palace, is that nobody will ever hear you scream.

in the black mountain, the darkness hardly distinguishes day from night. and they say that after losing a track of time, of days, going on without gazing at a clock or a calendar or even getting a peek at the stars, can drive a person to mere insanity. that was what many claimed happened to the witch when she was confined into this palace and was left to her own accord.

although light never shone once through those tainted, ebony windows, life still continued within the monolith. although not the healthy life that one might expect, not the life with clear morals or allowing a faith to carry you through your good doings, not even that flicker of passion towards pass-times and careers that keep you up and moving, nothing of the sort was ever seen in these walls. rather, it seemed like everything about humanity had abandoned the creatures from within. 

the seemingly natural and human way of living had been lost within their countless decades here. time was not even a concept, they weren’t sure what use it was to count the hours and days and years you spend there, you’d just make it worse for yourself within the hope that tomorrow you will escape. and if not tomorrow, then in a week. and if not in a week, then in a month, two months, three. upon realizing that time might never come, you peer at those tallies drawn on the dark cobble walls and sneer and scream into an empty vacuum of space where nobody will hear you and save you.

it’s no use getting out either, not without the witch’s permission.

but even if you go out and are asked to return, you must pray to whatever deity remains on this cracked crater of a planet, in hopes that you return with good news. if not good news, decent news. but never bad news. bad news like, the fact that soldiers from the empire front seemed to have located the traces of one of salem’s henchmen.

yeah, good luck getting out of something like that.

inside one of the many halls of the dead palace, a sudden sound erupted. the scout wheezed and coughed as his head was lifted from the pool of water. tangled through raven locks and pulling and yanking, the gloved hands of the witch minded him like a puppet. they leaned over what could have been a pool, but the water was far from pristine or blue, it was a sea-weed green and at certain times, you might just spot a fin breaking through the surface before submerging once more.

this had been going on for nearly five minutes, but it felt like hours. having your head being forced down this certain pool would attract something ugly that lies in the deep end, the mere scent of your blood will put you in danger. but one could hardly care for the life of a mere scout when the mistress of evil has some minor, and by that, major problems on her hands.

“ m-my lady, please, show mercy! ”.

when she forced his head back down, salem’s eyes appeared fit to kill. two vermilion spots lacking any source of previous humanity, but even with the eyes, you wouldn’t take her for having been once a beautiful woman. the horns on her head were curled with ends as sharp as a double edged sword. her complexion was as lifeless as ash clouds summoned by an erupting volcano. salem hardly looked like a witch, she seemed fit to be a demon, a horned one, at that. and perhaps a part of her had some relation to the beings dwelling in the fiery pits below, especially once glancing at the limits of her ire.

minutes prior to this, the same scout she had sent out with about a dozen goblins had returned with news she had not been expecting. news regarding the empire, the people who have tried to take her down for the past two decades. there had been no success although salem was hardly an idiot, she was not one to underestimate the passion of vengeful humans, she was a vengeful human herself. it wouldn’t be long before they charged in with torches and pitch-forks to burn the witch.

resistance groups were growing within the walls, according to the chatter of some military men wandering between the boarder of what was the ukraine. the scout, a good fighter as well as an idiot, could have escaped without alerting the men of his presence and that of the dozen goblins he had brought with him, but he did not. the mere rustle in the bushes alerted the soldiers of a darker presence listening into their banter, and although killing was not on salem’s demand, it had to be done.

what could have been tyrants avoiding giving their status and identity away instead became an altercation that left one soldier cubed to pieces whilst the other fled, and to add salt to the wound, a stupid goblin who went after him was seen by the patrol ship they had parked in the area. checkmate for the empire soldiers.

to make a long story short, salem was fucked.

salem’s berserk force yanked the man’s head out from the mermaid pit and just a small flicker of pleasure manifested in those dead eyes. if there was one thing that she did love doing ( and she doesn’t love many things ) it was ensuing a well-taught lesson on consequences. and she was a rather strict teacher when it came to that.

“ listen to me, you filthy pig ”, she spat, sneering as the man found to catch his breath. her grip on his hair only tightened. “ you had clear instructions. you had them fucking written down, i even took some remorse since you have a god-awful memory and you want to tell me to have mercy, when you just fucking gave a major clue away to those empire fuckers?! ”.

the man continued to cough and wheeze as salem’s spat pure venom, “ what is it with you men, huh? can’t take orders from a woman? is your superiority alarm blaring so hard that you just won’t adhere to the fucking orders because a woman gave them to you? answer me, you pig! ”. he couldn’t. “ d-do you know how fucked i am? well not in the best way, i’ll tell you that. all of my efforts to make my location have gone to shit because you couldn’t keep your lousy ass out of trouble for five minutes. five years! five years stuck in this cold shithole and you gave it all away, you filthy animal. oh, i’m not going to show any mercy at all. ”

although the currents were disturbed by the abuse brought upon the scout, the waves did not fail to suddenly grow rampant, as if enraged. and around the same time, salem shoved his head down far enough for the water to engulf his shoulders. and it was not her who pushed him into the water, rather it was an unseen force yanking him into the depths. 

as the witch rose and paid one last glance at the pool over her shoulder, she took note of a red hue that rose to the surface. after that, silence.

elsewhere . . .

principal arthur armsend was a man of honor.

being a principal and leader to a new era of the world, leading boys and girls and what lies in between into a new age, a renaissance period that would take the world from being a dark and bleak place that they were no longer familiar with, into the peaceful planet they had known it to be a hundred years ago. and he did so by a sharp discipline he gave to all of his students.

classes started at eight o’clock and go on until about four, and every day, something new is taught. from alchemy and martial arts, to care of mythical creatures and history. three meals were held every day at the immense cafeteria, free time started after classes in which students were able to enjoy the open-air yards of this floating monolith in the sky. in fact, they were so high up that you might reach over the edge and touch a cloud.

 as opposed to many schools, the academy of valhalla was not one to waste time fooling around. third-year students and first-year students alike worked around the clock in order to harness the best skills in their arsenal in case the possibility of being sent out into missions came. and usually, when you were prepared, you might end up having the best results. students were told to be precise, to never make foolish mistakes, and to always remember why they were here.

although, nobody got it as bad as the principal’s daughter.

you’d expect the privilege to be very obvious; the ability to skip classes, to get out of trouble, to be an immediate social magnet, to be allowed out of the school and into the city to enjoy what it means to be young. any good parent with a somewhat loose way of raising their kids would spoil their child when they had the position they had. but for her, it was anything but that.

“ back straight, seren! ”.

she’s been at this for three hours. not joining her peers in the usual classes would mean that she would have to be doing something a little more different, a little more suited for her, and whilst many might role her eyes, they’d feel their stomach drop when they see the state that seren armsend is reduced to when brought into these private lessons.

at this point, her knees scrapped and legs clearly trembling, fatigued to the core, anyone could tell that seren was going through hell. these lessons tended to last three to four hours, but every time she so dared to look at the digital clock on the wall, her tutor would threaten to extend the time to fifteen minutes. ‘you wouldn’t take your eyes off your target in a real fight to see how long you’ve been at it’, he had said many times. and although it pained her, she had to agree.

her tutor, however, was none other than her old man. at the age of fifty, arthur still managed to maintain a certain posture to his stand whilst in battle that would trick anyone into aging him down a couple of years. he was a petite man, shorter than his daughter by two inches, and that most definitely did not stop him from butchering his daughter and bringing her to her limits in these training lessons.

how many times would seren have to be here a week, you ask? five times. fridays were generally the days in which she would have two of these sessions, one in the morning and the other placed right after lunch and she would only be back in her dorm at seven o’clock in order to crash, rest, and prepare for more lessons on a saturday morning.

iron thorn was clasped in her hand, arms tensing and aching to rest, her entire body ready to collapse the mere snap of the man’s fingers when he allowed her to rest but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. her training gear made her feel ten times heavier, and it was hot, boiling hot. but an armsend does not show struggle in the midst of a duel, they prefer to keep their enemies unsure of their condition to scare them or taunt them. you could only collapse once you’d finished what you started.

privilege, my ass. this is torture.

the clock was ticking towards the final bell which would dismiss all students but the ones in detention, and seren. “ finish what you started, come on. gaze up, for god’s sake fix that shoulder, and stop shaking your leg, you’ll stumble as soon as you lunge forward ”, she was used to receiving these comments, and she would take the feedback in an instant, because she knew arthur armsend when he was angry, a burden she shared in being his daughter.

iron thorn gave a minor whistle as she prepared to lunge once more, no essences were allowed to be used for the time being. if she did use something, the room might collapse. but she was tempted, oh young seren was tempted on pulling the trigger against the handle of her rapier and bring the ceiling to the ground. it would give her at least a minute to escape through the debris and run. 

even upon lunging with a perfect posture and speed, the blade clashed against the cane her father wielded. stabbing, withdrawing, lunging, withdrawing, flicking and withdrawing. each set of movement took a mere second because of her semblance, yet her father caught everything and she was beginning to grow slightly discouraged. although not as many could fight as well as him, she knew that there would be someone out there who could. one person. and if she were to cross paths with that person, she cannot steer to being passive. even though it was meagre simulation of a fight, seren was asked to treat it like a reality. and that, she did.

arthur bore a sudden attack that left seren scrambling to get out of her thoughts, darting in withdrawal with a backwards somersault and landing clumsily on her feet, her legs nearly rendering her weak enough to collapse yet she still had a bit of sharpness left in her to know that landing on your ass would certainly mean a scolding from your father later. 

this time, however, she did not have energy to raise her weapon to him as he pointed the end of his cane against her neck. she merely lifted her head and glanced upon his gaze that seemed rid of any emotion, meaning he was thinking, analyzing, arthur just wasn’t the type of man to wear his feelings on his face. he knew better than that.

seren didn’t. “ what was with that frown i saw? you know how many times i’ve taught you not to make your thoughts and emotions obvious on your face, your face has to be a blank canvas ”, he went on to say, lowering his cane and pressing the end against the ground. his posture straightened and he seemed to have dropped his defenses. she was not going to attack, however. “ seren. ”

“ m-my apologies, father ”, the girl gasped softly and blinked, verging dangerously close to the point of collapsing. something kept her awake, a part of her subconscious that wanted to keep her alive, her fight response. if not for it, then she would have perhaps been disowned or sent away just like her older sister.

now the only capable of heir in the family with the ripe age of eighteen, soon graduating from the academy, seren would have to carry the legacy of the cold armsend women who never once brought themselves close to failure. she would have to probably join the military route upon parting ways from valhalla, leading young soldiers to restore their lost land. although, if you ask her, if she had the choice, she would have picked the exploration route. unfortunately, being born in this family means that your fate is already decided for you from the moment your presence in your mother’s belly is announced.

needless to say, you have to stay on the route of perfection.

arthur sighed, it was clear he wasn’t happy. “ we’ll cut the lesson short today. you will make up for it with an extra hour tomorrow after class ”, he decided, and in order to avoid angering the man, the girl pursed her lips together and nodded. if one stared for just a moment, they would notice the trepidation in her eyes.

her tutor, father, and principal turned and left the training chamber they had been in for the past four hours. now vacant, the only sound echoing being the pants emanating from her cracked lips and although she wanted nothing more but to lay down on the floor, seren only averted her tired gaze to the immense windows giving her perhaps the best view she’s had of the world outside in a while.

although the empire had seen better days, the mountain of crete was a good place to re-build a city and make the public feel safer inside the walls. there weren’t many who wanted to venture out, probably because they had everything they could ever want in here. technology meant that they could produce food by cloning and distributing it to millions, money never seemed to be an issue as there were jobs for everyone, though it was said that there lived some people outside of the walls, in mainland greece who took care of farms and cattle and had a somewhat older way of living that would have been seen in the medieval times. they were closer to the truth of the world, and the fact that at least a dozen would apply annually to move within the walls said something.

but the talk of the wild never petrified seren as it did to others. they had returned to a time where they believed society was safer, and as soon as you stepped into a zone with no laws or mentions of morals, you’d be in danger. yet she’s read stories of people who lived just fine in these conditions, monsters or no monsters. and though she shared some fears with the general public, the wild was not one of them.

if anything, seren was infatuated with the idea of going outside, of seeing the world for what it was and not for what others claimed it to be. they hardly showed images captured by the military when they leave the walls and attend an expedition, only returning in a week after taking geographical calculations and hurriedly leaving. hardly the military you want protecting you.

seren claimed that with her father in line, things would change. the third year graduates from the year before had gotten good results, one of them had succeeded in establishing a base in almost every continent that remained. and although hardly anyone visited those bases, they were there in case you found yourself lost and in serious need of help. many other alumni valhalla students made technological advancements towards transport and population control, others went more of a political way and started working alongside governors to change the shape of their monarchy. 

it was almost a guarantee that those who leave valhalla are destined for good things, but it felt as if seren would not be able to join her peers in that sense and it pained her to such an extreme where she wanted to jump out from those balconies, land in cold water and swim her way out of the city. yet she would have to return at some point, there is always a way back home after an adventure, even if it’s a short one.

seren looked down at her sword and tapped the floor with the tip for a moment, the blade had never once been blunt and yet it seemed like it was in desperate need of a recovery. it must have been caused by the countless daily training that hardly left her any time to catch up with her other subjects. her father was tempted on making a fighting machine out of her, and although she loved a good duel, seren was not a natural fighter. she was more of a diplomat, if you ask her.

lost in her thoughts, seren didn’t exactly hear the beeping sounds emitting from the door of the training chamber until it had come to her side and then began to feel a sensation against her leg. upon looking down, her frown disappeared and her eyes turned to crescents.

“ hi, ted. “

valhalla was known for having ‘familiars’, little creatures often used to advise students and although you couldn’t own them, you could befriend them. seren had known ted since he was made, which was roughly twelve years ago. he has been her friend long before he got signed up to be a companion to her school. at the age of six, ted was the robot she played with when she was alone.

smart, short and oh so adorable, ted-ee 012 mostly helped doctor lin with matters in computing lessons for those who lean more towards the technology route. but he was far from the war machine the school fabricated and more of a health robot, charged by water and able to detect sadness from students. it was probably why he had approached seren to begin with, pulling at her leg with his small hands.

he let out a happy beep as he waved at her, his eyes as pleasant and polite as always. “ i wasn’t sad, you know, i was just thinking ”, she said, crouching to his level. he stared at her, blinking for a couple of seconds with a disapproving sound. “ what, don’t believe me? ”. and then it clicked. “ oh, you got upgraded, didn’t you? ”.

ted hardly got any enhancements done to his figure, as he didn’t really have any flaws and his feedback from the students was always exemplar. but this time around, it was useful. because the upgrade enabled him to tell whether people were lying or not and it worked well during exam season where many would be asked whether they cheated or not.

seren let out a minor chuckle and shook her head, “ well there’s no point lying to you. but you never tell anyone, so i suppose it’s fine. ” she patted the top of his smooth head and then stood, holding iron thorn to her and then tucking it back into its sheath. “ care to get some fresh air? ”. on a happy note, seren left the chamber, ted hovering after her.

the halls of valhalla would usually be empty after classes were over, most students tended to flee outside and look for something fun to do, which was mostly seen in throwing frisbees, playing chess, going sunbathing. some returned to the lounge and played games or watched movies. others returned to their dorms to rest, and a small percentage fled to the library for some extra time studying.

a part of seren was almost glad that there weren’t many people to see her tired state. ted had offered her a mirror through his digital face and she was quick enough to adjust her cotton candy hair and adjust the blue bow pushing the locks of her hair back. she was boiling under this training gear, but she would be out of it sooner as her lesson was cut short, but it was clear she was going to owe her father an apology afterwards for her wandering mind. little things upset her father, but what majorly puts him off is when seren is not focused. it was the reason for most of their arguments and disagreements.

the dorms were in the lower parts of valhalla though the girl took a small detour outside to catch her breath. in the midst of a sunny afternoon, the sky was beginning to turn into hues of pink, purples and oranges as the sun thought about setting. the wind batting against her skin was all that she needed, especially as she neared to the open air yards with artificial grass, smooth concrete paths leading students around the perimeter of the entire yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. some benches and picnic tables were scattered, mostly occupied by first years who wanted to catch up after their lessons.

seren hardly steps outside, held inside by her tasks, but stepping outside was a freeing sensation, her arms folded and rested against the balcony railings, the wind was best from where she stood and she could have stood there for hours if she didn’t keep telling herself to return to her dorm and get as much rest as she could.

out of everything that caught seren’s attention, a game of football stole it in the end. most of the boys tended to be relatively active and sporty, that was a given as they had to be active if they wanted to carry heaven guns or broadswords with them in battle. seren became immersed in it for a moment, not the type of person to find kicking a ball around for ninety minutes particularly interesting but this time around, she couldn’t really help it.

what mostly caught her attention was one of the boys playing, and as far as she was concerned, she knew who he was. not the person to read the ranks too deeply, seren would only glance at the names and the pictures and this one was one she recognized. kailen cassius, rank number six, an archer. perhaps the most remarkable thing about him, however, what his height.

he had an air to him, though, that of someone who could handle things himself but also relied on teamwork and seemed to be about unity and working things out in a more collective fashion rather than being selfish all the time. he seemed like a good person, she thought. someone she’d definitely befriend and would be able to trust when faced with danger, but being alone didn’t permit her to join any teams. her father said that the only time she’d ever really join her peers in something of the sort was if she served as a tutor.

seeing as how so many of the students were set into groups, she wandered whether being in one would ensure that she would leave and tread beyond the walls, but she doubted anyone would really want to be in a team with her unless if they wanted extra credit or wanted to dump all the work onto her. and since seren wasn’t one to say no to people so easily, she might have to deal with being the one carrying all the work since she had the skills and smile as everyone got the best results despite having done nothing. it happened once in her primary school, and it was what shaped her into the timid, goody-two-shoes of a person that she is.

but say if she were to tutor a group. she’s seen third-year students do it mostly with second-year students who needed some help, but it would work and be the only time where seren might be able to use her position to get what she wants. it might make her father trust her just a tiny bit more, but she never knew exactly when it came to arthur armsend, he wasn’t one to be pleased so easily.

still, she was willing to give it a go.

when ted suddenly beeped, seren was drawn out of her thoughts once more only to realize that she had potentially been staring at kailen based on the way that well, he was looking right back at her. she had totally zoned out and had not managed to snap out of it when she felt the confused gaze of the boy on her. thank god for ted, otherwise she would have made much more of a fool of herself than she already had.

seren blinked and leaned away from the railings as soon as she began to feel her ears and cheeks burning pink. ted let out a confused noise, “ why didn’t you snap me out of it as soon as i started staring? ”. the robot tilted his head to the side with a level of confusion. “ he probably thinks i’m a total weirdo now! ”.

when ted let out an apologetic sound, seren sighed and risked a look back at the boy who had returned to his game, seeming more carefree but not before their eyes locked for a moment and she felt a wave of realization.

seren is hardly one to have an epiphany, but what she will tell you is that the feeling cannot easily be described. connecting the dots, her blank expression was replaced by that of surprise as her eyes grew in size and her pursed lips parted only for her to turn on her heel and start pacing quickly back inside, ted following in suit with some confused beeps.

the top six students are all third-years, and although the top student was often taken out of lessons to engage in more practical work outside of valhalla, that still left five people who were very capable of what she had in mind. she thought the tutoring idea would be pointless, but after her thoughts rang in that training chamber, after she stepped outside and looked towards the walls, after realizing that the world might end up caving in on itself if nothing was done, after such an epiphany, she couldn’t possibly sit there and do nothing.

seren knew her father would never let her out to do something like this on her own, but she knew she could perhaps impose an idea he could not deny. he wanted a daughter that would make changes, and after the death of one possible heir and the marriage of another, the fate settled on seren when she did not wish for it. but she could not change this about herself. but she knew that if good results came out of this, if her epiphany was right and she had perhaps hit the gold mine, that the world would somehow improve. and that was something she was taught from a young age.

her mother left when she was eight but the moral lessons stuck with her for ten years and it is probably why her thirst for knowledge of the outside world and the drive to better things was not leaving her anytime soon. the action of doing good things was deeply embedded into her, perhaps it was a genetic thing or the way her mother shortly raised her. she was a rebel without a cause, a woman who ventured out and never cared for the warnings she got or the many injuries she returned with. because at least she was helping. 

so perhaps it was time to start being a little selfish on her end. seren knew her father wouldn’t be in the best of moods after their lesson that afternoon, yet her blood remained boiling, adrenaline causing her heart to race after and her steps to quicken until ted stopped following her and let her run off on her own.

her father’s office was at the top floor, and after a long elevator ride to the top, seren stumbled into the room.

the porcelain tiles she stepped in were drawn with art she had never quite been able to name before. perhaps it was a renaissance-style painting, what with the figures and halos and clouds. every time she entered her father’s room, it felt like entering a museum. he was an archaic man with older, more traditional principles despite being inclusive. but he was one to separate his inclusiveness from his professional way of working, because no matter what you were, he still extended a hero out of you.

the mahogany desk was usually empty as he would have meetings on a friday evening but she had caught him seemingly before he could prepare for said meeting. he seemed to have turned on his record player, appearing blissful whilst listening to an opera piece seren has heard all too many times. the china cup in his gloved hands saw steam rising from what seemed to be his usual chamomile tea. three cubes of sugar, no less. 

the minor ding of the elevator made him raise his head when seren approached his desk. he paid her a mere glance, raising a brow. “ why are you not changed? i thought we’d be having dinner together ”, he stated, blowing the steam from his cup gently. “ don’t waste time, seren. ”

“ i need your permission for something, father. ”

arthur let out a sigh. when seren approaches him with a request as such, he often knows what it will be. permission to head to town for the weekend, permission to continue her tap lessons, permission to head to the beach. almost all of those requests were never really granted for the mere reason that he did not want her attention diverting to something else when so much had to be done. but he seemed to sense something was different, he knew his daughter well known and one thing he was unfamiliar with was the glistening pair of eyes like his wife’s staring back at him.

“ although i may be only seven in the ranks, i feel like . . . i-i feel like i know what i want to do before i graduate ”. she quickly took her seat in one of the chairs facing him across his desk. she took notice of his cane resting on the side and gulped.

days ago, he had mentioned that her older sister had one final act as a valhalla student that marked her as a significant alumni. although she married shortly after, she still made history by being the student who uncovered many lost articles and items in other continents, items rich in cultural value as they carried history of their dying planet. and she had done this before graduating. arthur imposed the idea that seren should do something similar.

seren proceeded, “ might i suggest gathering the top five students and allowing me to tutor them? ”.

“ seren. ”

“ let me finish, p-please! ”.

the girl clasped her hands together and forced a meek gaze down, “ i have all these skills in my arsenal and i highly doubt i’ll ever be able to use them because i can’t apply them to the world outside like the others. but perhaps i can let someone else take the lead for me. i-i could teach them what i’ve been taught and hope that they’ll carry it on, l-like a legacy if they choose to step outside of the walls. ”

arthur put his cup down, clearing his throat. “ is this just a reason for you to step outside? you know what i’m going to say, seren ”, his tone appeared highly disinterested, but she was not going to be discouraged this time around.

“ father . . . you and i both know that we have the people needed to do something about what’s happening to the world outside ”, she inquired, still no response. silence lingered until the apprehension faded. “ you found salem’s whereabouts, did you not? ”.

the principal, although he didn’t appear shocked, gave it all away through the way he dropped his spoon into his cup. he rose his gave with a clenched jaw and peered at her, possibly questioning how she’d come to such a conclusion. but it was no rumor, it was true. the general said the men found one of her scouts spying on them near the ukraine, meaning she couldn’t be too far. five years of hunting salem after her escape, only to finally discover the continent she hid in.

“ seren, listen to me closely ”, he warned, leaning over his desk slightly with a grave tone. “ i understand you wish to be a hero. but you will not be the hero who died trying to kill the witch that brought the world to its end. no daughter of mine will do something of the sort. ”

seren continued to fight back, “ but i won’t be the one doing it, it’ll be five qualified people doing it on my behalf because i taught them what other teachers do not. ”

“ seren. ”

“ and you act as if the years of training has been for no reason. what, am i just going to have these skills at my disposal and never use them? did i just waste nearly sixteen years of my life being taught something in case there’s a war? ”, she spat. she had never spoken to her father like this, and in a dark corner of her mostly innocent mind, she was enjoying it. she felt like her mother. “ father, there will be a war regardless. especially if we stick around doing nothing about the clear danger. i’m going to have to use these skills but i could also use them to prevent it all. ”

the man grew quiet. somewhere in his mind, he probably felt something similar. she had heard the stories, her father wanted to be the valiant one in his family to carry the armsend name, but he was the one who deeply injured himself to the point where he had to give up his heroic hopes and let it become mere fable. he didn’t want the same thing happening to seren, but he knew that this time, matters would be different. she would have help.

and sending your kid into a world that is unknown to even the smartest men in the world was a horrifying thought, but it is in like every tale, the one holding the hero back will always have to let them go. that is how the best heroes are made, the ones who were given the chance to chase after their happy ending, not he ones ho were held back. what good is a sheltered hero?

besides, she might end up finding the worthy opponent she had always dreamed of meeting. and if it was salem, so be it. call her reckless or obsessed with heroism, but seren knew she wouldn’t be able to stay within these walls for much longer.

her father knew this as well, even if it was clear he didn’t want to.

“ are you certain about this, seren? ”.

no, she wanted to say. she had hardly given any logic aside from her own hopes and expectations which could be mistaken as mere childish fantasy and desperation to be outside, but it is better not to ask her how she knew it would work out. she just knew.

“ yes ”, the girl breathed and bit her lip slightly. “ i think mother would have wanted to me to do this. i’m an explorer just like her, father. you know that very well. ”

arthur chortled, glancing bitterly at his cup of tea. “ i wish you weren’t. i wish you were more like your older sister, at least you’d stay out of trouble. but you’re the only heir. after ophelia, i’m highly uncertain that there’ll be anyone else ”, he spoke. she felt her blood run cold. but when he looked up at her, he grunted. “ but you don’t have a single cowardly bone in your body. you’re not like isabella and not like me. you’re an explorer, as you’ve stated. ”

“ father . . . ”.

arthur rose a hand and stood, cup in hand and cane in another. he brought himself up from his chair and moved steadily towards the tinted windows, peering outside into a twilight sky. “ you ask a lot of me, seren. not only might i lose my daughter, but i might also lose five innocent lives if all of this goes wrong. and i will not let it be for your fantasy and mere childish heroism. and yet, a part of me knows that soon, salem is going to find a way to harm everyone . . .”

the indecisiveness from the man was making the girl think much more deeply about the matter than she was intending. if someone got hurt, it would be her fault mainly for putting them in danger, but that was why she planned on training them. they were capable fighters, whoever they were. it was a matter of luck and precision, two opposing forces that might have to work together to make all of this work.

“ seren. ”

the girl lifted her gaze to see the man she so dearly admired and loved, the father who was a professor as well as a friend and a leader. she loved him so dearly that she would not think to ask something like this unless if she one hundred percent meant it. and she did.

“ if you can convince them to join you, i will grant your request. but be weary of the time, because it has become of the essence.”

and so, her adventure begins.

#chapter one #original writing #fantasy #magic #futuristic #dystopian

[docholligay]

ultrace replied to your post “BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

While a lot of these are great responses (DICE), I would throw a party for family and the few friends I have who are not family. A buffet of food. A few hundred dollars of booze available. Rock Band on tap as well as a gaming table or just a place for people to sit and drink and watch "those fools" at the other happenings.

I admit this kind of surprised me as I figured you’d get a 3D computer thing, but I like this answer a lot better!! I COULD HELP YOU PLAN A FUCKING BALLER PARTY. 

rhiorhino

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

Also I absolutely would get an Actual Haircut with a fucking rainbow dye job and some sweet tailored suits

I SUPPORT THIS. Suits are so great. 

rhiorhino

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

D I C E

YOU GOBLIN

keyofjetwolf

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

@docholligay​ I HAVEN'T PRICED A TRIP IN FOREVER SO I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S REASONABLE FOR THE PRICE. Maybe Vegas, fuck it.

Yeah Vegas would be totally doable! We could have a great few days in vegas for 2,000 and live pretty wild! I’d do an out and back trip where we just lose our minds for like, two days. 

MORE ANSWER BEHIND THE CUT

quantum-lesbian

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

probably getting myself a fancy tailored suit or on dnd dice & campaign books!

WOuld you get like, those fancy custom dice? I looked at those when I was thinking about doing Michiru because, you know, she would, but WOOF

its-decido

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I forget what it’s called, but Amtrak does a pretty cool scenic trail along the west coast (and into Canada I believe). I’d pick out a few cities along to way to stay in and write that baby off as a “research trip” for writing or art research come tax season. One thing about being a creative working person is that the job can also be 100% fun XD

oooh I love the idea of a train trip! I love Amtrak, I’ve taken the Empire Builder more than once. Which cities would you stay in? 

kin-kaze

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

Go to Hawaii and do something involving sharks. Should be fine.

My wife has ALWAYS wanted to take me to Hawaii

moonlight1130

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

ooo, no or take a cooking class or two

oooh what would you learn how to cook? 

tymp3st

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I have to admit, the idea of having two thousand dollars is kind of leaving me with static. Not being able to use it for practical things even more so. It would probably go to having some kind of massive shopping trip when con season rolls around again and/or renewing my dice of the month box. That doesn't even feel like it could account for half of it though.

WELL IT DEPENDS ON WHAT YOU BUY AT A CON., Or you could travel to a con! 

moonlight1130

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

or do something dumb like fly out to star wars land

ahahahahah that is dumb i love you

moonlight1130

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I'd go to a super fancy restaurant and order everything I wanted and get dressed to the nine

YUSSSSSSSS FEMME DATE???

sittingoverheredreaming

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

My first instinct is to say I’d buy more tacky impractical clothes (I LOVE suit jackets that shimmer or are velvet or have bold designs, that sort of thing) and then use the rest on some excuse/occasion to wear them, but I can’t think of what that would be

Oh my god please yes buy tacky tacky jackets and then like, tickets to a ball in NYC or something!! 

shavedjudomonkey

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I'd probably build a nice computer. That or use the money to fly out and visit friends I only know via Discord.

UNtil Nikki was building a computer I had no idea how easy it was to blow 2000 on a computer. 

tjwock

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“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I now realize that probably sounds like I’m going to start growing weed, and while that is probably an excellent investment on silly and fun I really meant I could have a space where my cannas and dahlias could start growing properly before the long winters end

ahahahah IT WAS AMAZING THOUGH. I think greenhouses are amazing! I wish we had one, I’ve though about getting old windows and building one

tjwock

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I’d get a green house. And fill it with all the green things.

cakeandpi

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

Silly and fun... I'd probably get most things from my games wishlist, then commission a bunch of art for both me and my friends

I love original art! 

pouncequick

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

The idea of having $2000 and not being able to use it for something practical is honestly breaking my brain. Probably a vacation of some sort--a national park or someplace where I could do a history deep dive. And a new cat tree.

Oooh can you think of which park you’d like to see? Jill and I are thinking of doing Denali next. 

madegeeky

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

And probably some more really geeky SM clothes and accessories because some cause of that shit is cute but so fucking expensive.

At that price you could just get shit MADE for you

madegeeky

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

If you mean only stuff and not trips, then I would buy that Queen Beryl dress because holy fuck that is extra I cannot justify it normally but with 2k it is mine. And then probably a lot of dresses, especially elegant gothic lolita clothing because that shit has the best prints but is expensive as motherfuck.

Have you looked on ebay for gothic lolita stuff? Idk EXACTLY what you’re looking for but I’ve seen a bunch on there at more reasonable prices. 

madegeeky

replied to your post

“BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I would go to Orlando, FL and stay in this super cheesy hotel that Mr. Geeky stayed in once, that's done all in over-the-top 50s decor, has a bowling alley, an arcade, and a huge cafeteria instead of a little breakfast bar. Then probably Universal Studios because why the hell not but I have to admit the hotel is big draw. That or to California to see the Winchester mansion because, hell, have you met me? XD

WHAT HOTEL IS THIS I MUST KNOW

hemiscyra1983 replied to your post “BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

OH WAIT NO the money would definitely go to a new Disney Princess costume and wig who am I kidding

THIS SOUNDS LIKE THE CASS I KNOW

thoughtfulfuri replied to your post “BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

Probably commission some art. Maybe some display shelves! Certainly some more figuarts and stuff like that. A cute and ridiculous cat house! Probably just a bunch of fun stuff. I'd say *maybe*. a road trip but I don't know if that would meet the 'silly' criteria. XD

I think road trips can be silly! I fucking love a road trip. 

spyderqueen replied to your post “BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

Well the 3' tall Cherno Alpha model I saw in a comic book shop would definitely be among the purchases

AHAHAHAH that’s amazing

themiscyra1983 replied to your post “BUT A FUN QUESTION FOR TODAY”

I mean, probably a trip. I'd pay for a trip somewhere. Maybe to NYC, which I've never seen much of despite it only being a few hours away by bus.

YES! GO TO BROADWAY

#ultrace #rhiorhino #keyofjetwolf #quantum-lesbian #its-decido #kin-kaze #moonlight1130 #tymp3st #sittingoverheredreaming #shavedjudomonkey #tjwock #cakeandpi #pouncequick #madegeeky #themiscyra1983 #thoughtfulfuri #spyderqueen

[fuckrammstein]

I was tagged by @062467

If I were a month, I’d be: October cause spooky

If I were a day of the week, I’d be: probably a Thursday

If I were a planet, I’d be: Venus

If I were a sea animal, I’d be: a blob fish

If I were a god/goddess, I’d be: Koalemos, god of stupidity

If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be: A door mat since everyone likes to walk all over me

If I were a gemstone, I’d be: emerald

If I were a flower, I’d be: lilac

If I were a kind of weather, I’d be: the calm before the storm

If I were a color, I’d be: green

If I were an emotion, I’d be: hidden depression

If I were a fruit, I’d be: mango

If I were a sound, I’d be: never ending screams

If I were an element, I’d be: earth

If I were a place, I’d be: a small hidden cove on the beach

If I were a mythological creature, I’d be: goblin

If I were a taste, I’d be: salty

If I were a scent, I’d be: weed

If I were an object, I’d be: a knife

If I were a body part, I’d be: the part of the brain that makes you anxious

If I were a song, I’d be: House Of Wolves by My Chemical Romance

I guess I’ll tag @heiko-landers @kruspesdoll @kya-kya-kya