#eldrich sway

[abyssalmarked]

Name: Richard Carson

FC: Neil McDonough

Age: Varies depending on current inhabited body

Pronouns: he/him

Family: Son - Alice Carson (lab created super soldier).

Granddaughter - Izzy Nova (child of Alice Carson and Cassie Nova)

Religion: Unitology (worship to the abyss; eldrich diety of death)

Affinity: Darkness and corruption

Likes: fine wine, obedience, power, keeping humanity pure to welcome their god.

Dislikes: nonhumans, poverty, children, other religions, wasting time.

About: Robert Carson made his first billion by starting a church of unitology on Cerros 7. Within a decade the entire planet had mostly converted (by force) to be a unified religion. Moving on he started new missions and temples across the known colonies until he reached Terra 3. Using his influence and his fathers name he gained a foothold within the already well established society of 'old money'. Mingling well with the rich families coming from Earth and surrounding colonies his charm swayed them into funding his many religious projects. It wasn't long until Unitology was a known religion on his side of the explored galaxy and twisted to put him on a pedestal.

Once well established he began funding the darker side of society. He helped push for the genocide of several nonhuman species as well as the culling of a good chunk of living forest to push for human expansion. For as often as he funds an orphanage and caters to his people he cuts apart and undermines the rights of those without human blood. The collective united government as well as individual colonies give him free reign as he will just cut them a paycheck for whatever number they ask for. As a result most crimes against humanity are swept under the rug. Always looking for good press he spends most of his days funding businesses and meeting with 'his' people.

#bio #about carson #save

[sepulchrypha]

<<On your travel 'cross the rainy roads in night-fog, a ghost arises, and offers his guidance through glen and graveyard.>>

Hi, I love Eldrich Sway with all my heart

#original character #fantasy #artists on tumblr #oc #dark fantasy #gore #decapitation #surreal #ghost #paranormal #headless horseman #eldrich sway #adenfel #medieval #gothic #occult

[amillionmillionvoices]

The doctor’s choice sounds ominous? ...darillium show sounds happier but it could be a trap 🤔

lmao “it could be a trap” nonny you know me so well. I don’t have anything written yet for Darillium Show, but it’s a project I want to work on that’s basically episodes of a spin-off series that would take place during Darillium. Thus far it features a long-suffering real estate agent, a dubious mayor, a thief that isn’t River, and getting sucked into a television. Each “season” is like 13 episodes, with an arc and new characters, etc. I’m really hoping to write more of it over the summer. *fingers crossed* 

As for Doctor’s Choice... yeah, ominous is a good word lol — it’s basically a rewrite of Amy’s Choice, where the Doctor has to choose between two worlds, both with River, and it’s....incredibly angsty. Here’s a snippet: 

“Daddy, daddy, wake up, daddy—”

His eyes fly open to Lorna is shaking his arm, small fingers gripped as tightly as they can around the burgundy velvet of his jacket, her words nearly intelligible under her sobs. 

“It’s okay, darlin, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pulling her into his lap and rocking her softly. 

“You wouldn't wake up,” she manages between sobs and hiccups, “Mummy won't—”

“I'm here, baby.” 

Lorna whirls, launching herself into River’s arms, small body shaking violently as she buries her face in River’s hair.

“She always did like you best,” the Doctor grumbles, but it's good natured and fond until he remembers, and his eyes meet River’s.

“Everything’s in real time,” River says quietly. 

“Unlike conventional dreams,” he agrees, clambering to his feet. “There has to be a giveaway, a tell, but I can't—” He paces a few feet in frustration. “Concentrate!”

River stands, cradling an exhausted Lorna to her chest, and he can barely look at them—at Lorna’s hair, dark like his used to be, curled like her mother’s, at the way River keeps brushing her thumb over Lorna’s back, the way River keeps swaying, just barely, unconsciously. 

“Alright, what do we know?”

“Two realities, two dreams, both feel real; either we’re flashing forward to here, or backwards to the TARDIS.”

“Where exactly is here?” 

“Darillium,” he says automatically.

“Yes, but is it really? Or do we just think it’s Darillium?”

The Doctor pauses. Turns full circle. “Earth architecture, judging by the cabin.” He stalks over to the berry bush, sniffs it, plucks a berry and pops it in his mouth. He promptly spits it out. 

There are roses, and hyacinths, and a nocturnal eldrich tree, known for their blueish leaves and sore temperament and tendency to bite the hand that feeds them—literally. 

“So not Earth, then,” River observes, and the Doctor snorts. 

“It's your garden, dear.” 

River glares, about to protest but he shakes his head, cutting her off as he strides a few paces around the side of the house, lump forming in his throat as the Towers come into view. 

“So it is Darillium,” River murmurs from behind him, sounding as struck as he feels. 

It’s what he’d pictured, that night on the balcony, twenty-four years. 

When he looks back, he sees River staring down at Lorna, asleep against her shoulder with her mouth open, berry stains still on her lips.

[ ask me about a wip!]

#river song #drfic #asks #replies #fic #wip meme #thank you nonny! #i really gotta finish this fic it's been on my list for years now #sorry pam lol #Anonymous

[im-totally-not-an-alien]

Final Fantasy 7 prompts no 26

1. Typical Cloud gets thrown back in time story, but when he gets there he has a mental breakdown. After torching Jenova and the library, he tells a very confused Vincent that Sephiroth and Hojo are both still alive and that he needs to find Sephiroth and tell him the truth. He gives his future red-cloaked friend a crudely drawn map to Lucrecias cave and sends a thoroughly confused, yet hopeful, Vincent off, then promptly takes over the coffin.

Featuring Vincent Valentine in the leading role, everything going as planned for once, a very greatful general, curious commanders, Clouds C-cells curing degradation, and Cloud finding the coffin to be ridiculously comfortable.

After the world is saved, Sephiroth demands answers. The blond keeps giving them more tasks to complete and spilling Shinras dirty secrets, leaving them to fix things while he gets to stay semi-comatose and work through all his inner trauma. Problem is, Sephiroth won't let sleeping dragons lie, and demands answers. Cloud considered moving, but decided he loved his new home. If Vincent wants his coffin back he can fight him for it.

2. Cloud absorbs all of Jenova. Everything from the living cells to the peices in the lifestream. He calls it to him and takes it all, stealing every ounce of her power. He leaves Gaia, never to return, after all, he would do anything for his family.

3. Both Cloud and Sephiroth can purr, but find it embarrassing

4. Everybody plays thier theme on a harmonica when they're sad.

5. Au where Mireille finds Cloud instead of Tifa and he teams up with her. He sprouts a wing and she uses this to convince him to take over the moniker of "Gardian Angel of the slums".

6. Vincent dads Cloud.

7. Cloud wakes up in his tent one morning to an arm around his waist. He promptly freaks out, only to find its Loz, and freaks out further.

They wake up and explain that they have nowhere to go and no one left to follow, so Cloud takes them in. He hires them to make deliveries on a set of motorcycles he's gifted them. He becomes a great big brother to the triplets.

Cloud begrudgingly allows them to sleep next to him, which was a mistake because now they sleep on top of him every night. He doesn't hate it though, and thier weight quickly becomes a comforting one.

8. Jenova moms people.

She legitimately kidnaped people and brainwashed them into believing she was thier mother. Why? She was lonely.

9. Jenova is restored to her beautiful goddess-like form. Her long ankle length silver hair was flowing in the wind behind her, large fluffy white clouds swirling lazily were emanating from her back in a strange parody of wings. In each of Jenovas six hands is one of her children, clutched delicately, yet firmly. The only exception was the hand she held before her, displaying the youngest of her children. Her precious triplets. The ones who survived. The ones who revived her. The ones who ended the world.

Her yellow haired son weeped and struggled and pleaded. It did not sway her. Her favored son rejoiced while her honorable son and poetic son looked on in confusion. She flew high into the air, leaving the worlds atmosphere within moments. She was not concerned, her children were a part of her now, they did not require a planets care.

The dark goddess summoned her meteor and made quick work of the little planet and its lifestream. The blond child weeped the entire time, he was so soft, too soft, but she loved him anyway. She sensed her silver childrens praise and the horror of the other two. No matter. They would come to love her.

She would make sure of it.

10. Post time travel AU where Sane-Sephiroth is trying to woo a certain 1st class Strife.

Cloud is having none of it.

Genesis is ruthlessly teasing the poor general and it feels like all of Shinra is trying to be Sephiroths wingman, which is only agitating the blond further. Zack had betrayed him, giving Sephiroth private details about Cloud, such as his favorite foods, scents, colors, and hobbies. Although it was a small betrayal, it hurt like a larger one. Zack knew the truth, and knew how awful the blond felt from just being around the general. It feels like the only one on his side was his newer friend Kunsel, who didn't seem to care either way, but kept digging into Clouds past, which was dangerous, what with being a time traveler and all.

11.Jessie noticed a ring on Clouds finger and gasps, "I didn't know you were married!"

"Im not." The blond grumbled, "Some nutcase grabbed my hand and shoved it onto my finger.

"Oh?" Biggs grinned, "Why are you still wearing it?"

Cloud ducked his head, embarrassed, "I...can't get it off."

"It's stuck?" Wedge asked.

They then proceed to try to remove the ring with increasingly hilarious shenanigans, starting with the basic butter trick and progressing from there, until Barret gets fed up and somehow manages to shoot it off.

12. Hojo praising Cloud

13. Cloud has so many S and J-cells that he can initate the call for Reunion. He doesn't know this however. One day when Cloud was on the brink of death he instinctively called out, sorta like a S.O.S. and a bunch of Eldrich like abominations came to his recue. Now they won't leave.

Weirder still is that they seem to serve him instead of Sephiroth, AVALANCHE still doesn't like them but Cloud has grown attached.

Hojo eventually finds out and is intrigued.

14. Genesis and Cloud start dating and psychotic Sephiroth is jealous

15. Cloud sprouts a wing, typical Wingfic, but its yellow/gold and Yuffie won't shut up about him turning into a chocobo.

#cloud strife #sephiroth #vincent valentine #genesis #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #jenova #ff7 story prompts #ff7 prompts #ff7 #final fantasy 7 story prompts #final fantasy 7

[nighttbound-a]

Here’s a new pal--Eldrich Sway the headless ghost because my mind has been pestering me to make this OC for years

#//ooc

[stillpartofthisworld]

and now you're drowning (and i'm surviving)-Critical Role

its on Ao3!

He tips her head up, putting his head to her chest (he's wanted to do this, sometimes, when the nights were dark and the dreams unrelenting but not like this, oh, not like this-) and listens for a heartbeat.

He can't find one.

A/N: This is my first CR fic! It’s been up for a while, just haven’t posted it here haha. Let me know what you think! The rest is under the cut!

Sometimes, Fjord dreams about drowning. There's no huge eye in these dreams, no push to fulfill a command, no view of Vandren or Sabien; he just drowns, plain and simple. He feels that initial splash into the frigid waves, the dark churning of bubbles as he twirls underwater. He feels his lungs start to twitch, the last of his oxygen being consumed and he breathes out, searching for those bubbles that would tickle his chin or nose to tell him which way was up. It never comes and he tries again, the last of his breath used in his desperate attempt to live. Nothing. And that's when the nightmare starts. It's a certain sort of hell, the water cold yet burning, filling his lungs as his body forces him to take a breath, only for them to convulse painfully as he tries to expel the water. He feels himself fading, too slowly for his taste as his lungs scream for air and only being met with brine and fire. His consciousness leaves him, the pressure of the tumultuous currents lessening as he tries to accept his fate, accept the fire burning in his chest as a temporary pain before an eternal slumber. He thinks he still dies with his eyes open. These are the dreams he manages to hide, no salt water spit up or vanished items to alert the party of his nightmares. Sometimes, though, he catches Caduceus looking his way before putting on a pot of chamomile tea "to calm some early morning nerves". Molly used to bring him whiskey, but tea does just fine. Even after his near death in the sea, Fjord doesn't find himself shying away from water. It's still his home, his old livelihood; dangers came in every environment, after all. Every sailor knows that they could drown at any moment. He finds himself missing more than ever the feeling of being out on open sea, of looking out and seeing blue, beautiful blue for miles, salty airs and cool breezes his only constants. It's funny how dying alleviated fears of death. So no, drowning himself didn't scare him. But someone else, someone he cared for, being subjected to the same fate? That sent chills down his spine. He finds himself constantly checking on the rest of the M9 as they played along the shoreline. Caleb, who stays afloat where he could see him; Caduceus, who swims in shallow waters, Nott and Beau, who stay mostly on the shoreline where the water just curls around their toes. He feels like he needs to protect them, and he knows that only half of that feeling stems from their routine of looking out for each other in the empire. (He doesn't want them to feel what he did.) He feels other things too, and most of them are because of Jester. Jester, who until just recently was unable to do anything but watch the sea from her window. Jester, who takes in the beauty and excitement of literally everything around her with such childlike wonder. Jester, whose attention is always shifting from the sea to the birds to her friends to him, and he passes off the th-thump he feels in his chest when they lock eyes as a wave startling him as they crash against the rocks. No, Fjord isn't afraid of drowning. But he's afraid of those he cares about being subjected to the same fate. So when he finds himself captaining a ship, responsible for the lives of every single person who's meant anything (everything, they're everything, she's everything-) to him in the past, he's feeling anxious, and rightfully so. But they're different. That's what he tells himself. They're capable. Caleb has his fire, Beau has her fists, Yasha has her sword, Caduceus has his magic, Nott has her crossbow- And Jester- Jester is in the arms of a harpy. It pulls her from the sail she’s mending, sharp talons digging into her arms painfully as she struggles to hold onto the mast. One harpy is down already, felled by Beau, and another two are speeding away due to whatever spell Caleb has cast on them. The other three are retreating, yes, but not without something as a prize; one has a deckhand firmly in its grasp, another eyeballing Nott; but no one minds them. They're all looking at Jester. (It's like his heart has stopped.) "Let go of her!" Beau, ever the agile one, runs up the mast and leaps, adrenaline an determination taking her farther than she was able to on Nicodranas. She catches onto the harpy's wing and it sags with her weight, dropping back to Earth for a split second before it caws sharply and snaps its' wing up, throwing Beau off and sending her plummeting 40 feet onto the deck. She pops back up immediately, full of splinters and anger before Fjord puts a hand on her shoulder, pushing her towards the stern. "Go help Caduceus and Yasha!" he nearly growls at her, and turns back to the harpy, summoning his falcon and pointing it straight at it. The eye looks at its target, and for a second Fjord swears he sees it narrow in delight before an Eldrich blast comes shooting out, careening towards the harpy’s back for a hit. Caleb and Nott fire, magic missiles and crossbow bolts a blur of light and metal as they smash into the harpy, which looks broken and bloodied even at this distance. Jester is trying to work her way free, unable to do much harm without touching the beast and so she casts Spiritual weapon, a huge lollipop appearing right above her and the harpy, who's gained considerable height and is starting to put distance between them and the ship. Fjord is still firing, ripping through his spell slots as he aims, fires, corrects, fires until he feels blood rushing to his head and nearly blacks out in exhaustion. He can still see Jester, who's managed to get an arm free and raises a hand to bring down the giant lollipop on the harpy's head, and he lifts the falcon one more time- The harpy pitches forward, then falls out of the sky. And for a brief millisecond, there's relief. And then Jester starts to fall. "Jester!" The M9 rush to the edge of the deck, watching the tiefling plummet 50 feet through the air, twisting and turning the whole way down before hitting the sea with a huge splash. They're freaked, out of their element and unsure of what to do and how to do it, and so they look back at Fjord for ideas. Except Fjord isn't there anymore. He's in the water, swimming at top speed (thank the gods for this armour) towards where he saw her go down. He takes a breath, a quick one, and dives. The sea is just as murky as the day he died. He pushes down, down, down, swimming deeper and deeper into it's icy depths. He doesn't know how long she's been under, and he doesn't want to think about it; she's not drowning, she's not drowning, she's not drowning . He finds a hand in the dark. He nearly recoils in surprise, but he latches on instead, pulling the hand towards him. A body collides with his, small and feminine, a dress swaying and catching his ankles in the current. He can't make out her face, but he knows it's her. He speeds up and out of the ocean, the universe seemingly at his side as his natural buoyancy propels him upward towards air. She drags behind him, limp in his grasp and right now all he can do is pray, pray to the gods and the Traveller and whatever he made a pact with to please let her be alive, please please please let her live, I'm begging you- He breaches the surface with a gasp. He props Jester up with his arms, turning her towards him. Her head is limp and it sags between them, resting on her chest as he sees the last of the saltwater drain from her mouth. He tips her head up, putting his head to her chest (he's wanted to do this, sometimes, when the nights were dark and the dreams unrelenting but not like this, oh, not like this-) and listens for a heartbeat. He can't find one. He feels a rush of something threatening to cascade over him but he clamps it down, unwilling to let his fears get in the way of what he has to do. First-get back on the boat. He half hugs, half tucks Jester into his side, cradling her head with a hand so she wouldn't go back under again (does it matter?) and swims, struggling to pull both their weight but managing it anyway, eyes trained on the slow growing ship no more than 40 ft away and closing. He sees his party members and some crew leaning over the side, watching him struggle towards them. Caleb turns and barks something at the deckhands, who both turn and run off,and he soon sees a rope being thrown over, along with a pinkish gray mass that lands with a splash. Caduceus reaches them in no time and Fjord pushes Jester into his arms without thinking (it strikes him how much he trusts Caduceus, no matter how hard it is to understand him.). "She's not responding," he explains as Caduceus slowly turns Jester around to face him, watching the firbolgs' eyebrows furrow as he presses his hand to her nose, her mouth, her throat. "I think she's un-" Fjord is interrupted by Caduceus placing a hand on his shoulder, sinking down a little in the water to look him in the eyes. "Get back on the ship," he says, and Fjord has never felt colder. They both swim to the rope, silently carrying Jester between the two of them. Fjord gestures for Caduceus to tie himself in but he shakes his head, grabbing the rope and fastening it to the half orc instead and placing Jester in his arms. He doesn't want to look down at her, doesn't want to see her blue lips tinged with purple and white, her eyelids slightly open and staring at nothing. He looks at her. He finds himself starting to shake. Caduceus tugs the rope and Fjord is lifted up and out of the water, rope digging into his back as they gain height (He can't even feel it, all he can look at is Jester, Jester, Jester-) until he sees the railing above him, sees the rest of his friends holding onto the other end of the rope and helping him go up and over and falling in a heap onto the deck with a groan, still managing to protect Jester by curling up around her (she still smells like sweets, mixed with salt and blood). He hears Beau yell out their names, feels her crouch beside him and slowly uncurls himself for her, letting her take Jester and place her on the deck. "Jes?" she whispers, leaning in close to feel her breath. (He doesn't have the strength or heart to tell her he tried.) "Jester, please. Don't trick us like this by holding your breath. It isn't funny...Jester?" She looks back at Fjord, looking for some reassurance from her fears but he's silent, staring at Jester's prone form and trying not to break. A shuffling of clothes. Caleb walks from behind Fjord's periphery and crouches beside Beau, looking down at Jester with an expression crossed between pain and affection that takes Fjord's breath away. He pushes the tieflings dark hair out of her face, leaning down and pressing her forehead to his own and whispering something in Zemnian before, in Common, "Sleep well, my little one." Nott is right there beside him, her little form shaking in little bursts as she puts on her porcelain mask to hide her face, even as Beau pulls both of them in for a hug. Yasha watches all of this in silence, but her silence speaks more than words as she opens her book, falling to her knees to place dried flowers around Jester's hair and face. (Another crack. Fjord doesn't know how long he'll last like this. He's failed them all.) Caduceus is the last to approach, still dripping wet. He makes a puddle on the deck where he stands, peering down at Jester's form like an inquisitive crow before shifting to look at all of them. "It might be rude to say so early but, I'm sorry for your loss," Caduceus begins, and Beau's head snarls up to face him. "Our loss? Bullshit. We know how much she means to you, too." Caduceus's facial expression flickers, just for a second, before settling into a determined look as he sets down his staff to shuffle through his knapsack. "She did. She does. And that's why," He pulls out long tube, the sides of it sporting moss and colorful fungi that comes off a little as he opens the container and pulls out a scroll. "we're going to get her back." "And how do you reckon we do that?" Fjords voice is hollow, his accent barely there as he finally shifts his attention from Jester to Caduceus. No one questions the change; whether it be due to not noticing or not caring, he has no clue. "My family...we ran a graveyard, yes, but if we could help those who had not yet fully crossed over come back...we would. Right now, the Mother has only blessed me with enough words to bring back someone within a minute, but my parents were able to help those who have been gone for much longer. They gave me this scroll before they left, and they said that I should use it when the time was right." "And you think now is the right time?" Caleb's voice is soft, questioning; they all know what other time he's referring to and it hits Fjord like a sledgehammer (blue is replaced with purple, clear water replaced with blood-but he's gone now, been gone for a while-) "The first time you asked for my help, your friend..." Caduceus pauses, looking for the right way to say too far gone, much too dead, miles away and six feet under- " was far away, and I wasn't exactly sure who I would be bringing back anyway. But this, this I can do." He stoops down, waiting for Beau and Yasha to let him pass as he goes and scoops up Jester into his arms and stands. "Let's get her somewhere warm." And he goes below deck. And they all follow. Caduceus  and Caleb spend the rest of the day preparing for the ritual. The firbolg has used up most of his magic during the fight, so attempting ooit now would just be a recipe for disaster , he tells them as Caleb moves Jester into a comfortable position on a cot in his tiny hut, cast to give them a semblance of privacy from the rest of the crew. Both the wizard and the warlock haven't really left Jester's side since she was brought back on board, Caleb being under the excuse of being unable to leave the hut, Fjord by being the captain and Jester's closest friend. Nott and Yasha called evening watch before the raid and stuck to it out of routine, neither of them coming back to switch shifts even when the sun goes down and the sky and sea melt into a singular inky darkness. Beau tries to keep spirits up, something that she is ill equipped to do but tries anyway, frequently reassuring anyone around her that Jester would be back, she would be revived and would probably tease everyone for having a crush on her while she was dead until Fjord can't take it anymore and asks her to relieve Nott of her post. When Nott comes down she sets her weapons down and curls up next to Caleb, who puts up an arm for her to snuggle in closer as he stares at a book. "Goodnight," she mutters, and for a second he expects to hear Jester's sleepy voice mumbling it back, but instead he hears Caleb, bending down to give the goblin a squeeze before slowly closing his eyes as well. Fjord stays where he is, across Jester's cot (corpse), and stares. He doesn't know when he starts to speak. "Jester?" He stops, coughs, starts again, dropping the accent. "Jester, can you hear me? Caduceus...he said something about your soul staying with your body for a bit? Like ghosty shit? Ack..." He rakes his hand through his hair, takes a breath, and looks at her. "I'm sorry." He's not sure who he's talking to at this point; himself, Jester or even the Traveler, a presence he's rarely felt but can only assume is here. His favorite cleric just died. "I'm sorry for letting this happen. And, I know what you would say, that it wasn't my fault, but it is my fault, Jes, I know it. I let us leave shore, and none of you were ready.I don't even know if half of you can swim all that well. I was in charge of all of your safety, and I failed." A lump in his throat threatens his next sentence with a crack, but he pushes it down forcefully. "I failed you. And that's not all I'm sorry for." In the dimness of the hull of a ship in the open sea, Fjord tells the corpse of his best friend everything. He talks about his childhood, his tusks and why he cut them, how he found his life and first family on the sea, how his near drowning affected him. He tells her how he recovered, what his plans were with the Academy, his thoughts and fears about Sabien, Vandren and the entity he might have unknowingly made a pact with. He talks about meeting her. How it changed him, made him see the joy and light in the smallest of things. He talks about the M9, Molly, being captured together (I'm sorry, I'm sorry) and how thankful he was when they were set free. How angry he was. He talks about how worried he was for her. How much he wanted to believe that she was fine, even though she wasn't. He talks about Nicodranas, about meeting her mother and fighting that genie in the sewers and acting out of panic seeing it come after her, how after that he truly started understanding how much she meant to him. He talks, and talks, and talks until his head feels heavier than his heart, and then he's silent, dozing off to the lull of the waves lapping at the ship. (And perhaps he hears a girl, far, far away, softly singing a song the Ruby had performed mere nights ago.) "Wake up, Fjord." The half-orc starts awake, bolting upright before becoming startlingly aware of his sore back and neck and groaning. Massaging his neck, he looks up and sees Beau, hair messy and looking like she barely slept a wink. "Beau? What is it?" He asks, his own thoughts hazy and unclear from sleep. "Its Caduceus. He's ready to do the ritual." He's awake after that. Both Fjord and Beau rush up to the deck. Both the skies and waters are clear, the ocean waves barely rocking the boat to give them the appearance of stillness. The rest of the Nein are already there, all paying attention to Caduceus, who was explaining how the ritual would work and what they could do. Fjord catches most of it, hears the words "offering" and "calling to the soul", but he's still distracted by the blue body in the middle of a chalk circle, surrounded by sigils and lichen, trying to calm his heart down. They were getting her back. The M9 step back as Caduceus walks around the circle a final time before standing in front of them all, pulling the scroll from his bag and lifting it up, and then begins to read. The Celestial that flows from his mouth is melodic and expressive, spell sounding like song as it echoes across the ship and open sea. The chalk lines surrounding Jester begin to slowly glow, pulsing brighter and brighter with every syllable before a bright green light is washing over them all, flaring with divine energy. Caduceus stops reciting, lowering the paper to look at all of them expectantly. "What do you contribute to this ritual?" Before Fjord can even react Caleb steps forward, glancing at Caduceus to make sure he was allowed to step into the ritual circle before walking over to Jester. "Hey there," he says softly, more tender than Fjord has ever heard him, "I wanted to give you something." He fishes for something in his coat for a second before pulling out a small rock, a dull grey save for a light stripe in the middle. "You see this rock?" His voice is quieter now, his face turned down and away from the group as he talks. "It might not look like much, but this is a real lucky rock. It's helped me in a lot of our, ah, fights with the baddies. I guess you could say it's kept me alive." He turns the rock over before placing it gently into Jester's cold, outstretched hands, getting her fingers to curl around the stone. "And now it will help keep you alive too." He leans down and kisses her forehead, brushing the hair from her face before stepping back. The stone pulses. A wave of magic, fiery and bright, spread a out in a singular orange wave, mixing with the green light and strengthening it as Caduceus intones with another verse. He looks back at the group again, and this time it's Nott that springs into action, scrambling forward to stand over Jester's body. "Hey Jessie," she says, crouching at Jester's torso to fiddle with her dress. "'Duceus said that we should offer things up that would strengthen the bonds between you and this world or something...I'm not too good with magic but I brought you these." She unloads her pockets, and trinkets of every type and size clatter to the ground. One by one she scoops them up, placing jewelry on hands and horns and tail, glittery things expertly tied onto her dress or into her hair. Fjord hears Caleb give out a little wheeze and sees the human looking at Nott in shock and fondness. "I know you like shiny things as much as I do, Jester," the goblin continues, placing the last bauble-a silver charm with a rhinestone in its center- into her hair. "and even though I like these things very much...I'd much rather have you here with us." Nott turns and scampers out of the circle towards Caleb, who immediately scoops her up into a hug, squeezing her as she wraps her arms around his neck. Beau and Yasha move over to them, the monk gently ruffling Nott's hair as Yasha says, quietly,"Good job, Nott. I'm sure Jester will be quite happy with her new look.", which only brings out a sniffle from the goblin. They've all changed so much since they've met. The circle is brighter now, light reflecting off the many shiny sides of Nott's offerings, scattering the rays like prisms, adding more colors to the divine light of the Wildmother. Caduceus keeps going, nearly at the end of his scroll by the looks of it, and he pauses to hold up one finger. One more offering. Fjord steps into the circle. He doesn't have anything to offer, but he does have his words, and those have been good enough to get him this far. He hopes it's enough here. He sits down next to Jester. She looks awfully small in death, the energy and joy that seemed to inflate her until she was larger than life itself sapped by the ocean He reaches out to her, cradles her head with both his hands before bringing it to rest on his lap. "Heya, Jes," he starts out, casual and soft, like they're alive and alone instead of dead, hurting, and surrounded by their family. "I know I-I told you a lot of things last night, didn't I? About my past and all. But I think...I think I should tell you about the future." He tells it to her as he envisions it; finding treasure on an island, presenting it to her mother so she wouldn't have to work anymore. Perhaps they'd sail the world; perhaps they'd stow the ship on another port and sneak away, eager to find another adventure on land. They would help Yasha with her quest, Caleb with his weird vendetta. They'd take her to see the Traveller, when it was summer. They would do so many things. "But for this to happen, you have to come back, Jessie," he murmurs, stroking her hair as he talks. "We can't do this without you. You're the cleric. You bring light to us all. You brought it to me, all those months ago. So please, please...come back to me." He looks up, and for a split second he feels someone looking down at him. "You're here, aren't you? Traveler." There's a part of him that feels foolish, calling out to the wind, but he keeps going. "You've seen how much Jester loves you. She follows you diligently, even when it could have gotten her locked up in the Empire. She brings joy to others, and I-I know she must bring joy to you. You're her oldest friend, so please...help us bring her back." Caduceus starts reciting again, louder and faster as the circle grows with a new vigor, green light turning bright blue in some places as magic begins to swirl towards Jester. The parchment in the firbolgs hands begin to burn and he lets go, but no one is really paying attention; they're watching Jester, whose body is lifted from Fjord's grasp by the magic gathering above her, limply hanging in midair as if lifted by a thread. Different lights swirl around the tiefling, bursts of red, green and blue that mingle and twist around each other until they become a singular white beam that diffuses into Jester, her body seizing in the moment as magic jump starts her muscles. The moment passes, and her body slowly lowers to the ground once more, her head settling back onto Fjord's lap as the magic fades, the chalk lines becoming inert once again. A second passes. Then ten, then thirty as the Mighty Nein waits for Jester to breathe. Fjord doesn't check for a pulse, too afraid to jostle her, as if her life was more fragile than air. He feels nothing, vision tunneling until he sees nothing but Jester, Jester, Jester, dead in his arms once more. It's all his fault. A minute. Caduceus walks over to them, stoic yet with shaking shoulders as he bends down next to Fjord. "I-I'm sorry, he whispers, placing his hands on Fjord's shoulders. "I thought it-" Jester coughs. Fjord nearly jumps back in shock but instead grabs onto her, pulling her up so her upper body was flush against his so she could cough and vomit out whatever sea water was still in her system. He pats her back, softly cooing "There you go, get it all out of ya," as she wheezes and spits, trying to ignore the squeezing in his chest as Jester looks back at him gratefully, a bit of vomit still trickling down her mouth as she croaks, "Thanks, Fjord." And then she's out of his arms and in Beau's as she comes and picks up the tiefling with a shout, twirling her around and hugging her tightly. Nott is there too, holding onto Jester's waist as much as she can. "You guys!" Jester laughs, hugging Beau back weakly, reaching down to ruffle Nott's hair as she takes in the affection. "Why are you so huggy today? I was only gone for five minutes. Fjord got me out, right?" She breaks away from the hug to turn to Fjord, only for her knees to give out under her. She falls to the floor in a heap, breathy and shaking as she tries to catch her breath. Fjord and Caleb are by her side immediately, both taking a side as they help her back to feet. "You need to rest, Jester," Caleb says, his own voice a bit shaky as she wraps an arm around his shoulder. "You've had quite a day." She sighs and nods, looking down at the floor before noticing the ties in her dress. "Oh! I have more jewelry on!" She swishes her dress and flicks her tail with muted delight, inspecting the new baubles. "Oh, Nott! Did you give these to me?" She lets go of Caleb to give Nott a one armed hug, still holding on to Fjord for support. "Thank you! But what's it for?" Nott opens her mouth to speak before glancing at Caleb, and Fjord takes this as his cue to say "Alright, Jess, time for you to sleep," and sweeps her up in his arms before she can say anything. She's cold, and he can feel her shivering. Still she manages to laugh and wrap her arms around his neck, teasing "Oh, Oskar! This is just like that once scene where-" "Yeah, okay, we're going now, take care of the ship while I'm below deck bye!" Fjord feels his cheeks warming as he strides of the deck and down the stairs, making his way into the captain's quarters. His arms are shaking with strain but he tries to ignore them, instead focusing on Jester, alive and shivering in his arms. He sets her down on the mattress, feeling her hands leave his neck as she curls up on herself, still shaking. He grabs the blanket, throwing it over her in an attempt to provide warmth. She takes it gratefully, muttering a small "thank you" as she wraps it around herself. He hums and sits down at the edge of the bed, warming her hands with one of his own, another hand stroking her hair quietly. A few minutes pass. She's still shivering, even though her hands are now warm in his own. "Jester, I'm gonna get some more blankets, alright?" He says, untangling a hand from her hair. "I'll be back." He gets up from the bed, only to find himself unable to move as blue hands reach out and grab his arm. "No!" He looks at her, sees her pale face suddenly turn a purplish hue as she turns away. "I'm not cold, Fjord. I'm just...just stay," she says, and he can't say no to her, has never been able to, so when she lifts up her blanket to let him slide under the covers he does so immediately. They both don't have any armour on, their legs knocking into each other as they settle in, making room for each other. It's awkward, at first; Fjord doesn't know what to say, not sure how to take that devastating look on her face away without crossing any boundaries, but Jester is already reaching for him tentatively. He leans into her, letting her wrap her arms around his neck as he pulls her in close, resting his chin on her forehead, letting an arm draw slow circles across her back to calm her down. Minutes pass. Jester's shaking has stopped, and she hasn't said a word so he assumes she's sleeping until she whispers something into his chest, so low that he strains to catch it. "I died yesterday, didn't I?" His breath catches. "I...wasn't sure if you would remember." It's an excuse, a hope they had all had that she wouldn't be traumatized by such an ordeal. She sighs against his chest and he pulls her closer on instinct. "I remember," she murmurs. "I remember all of it." His heart breaks for her. "Jester, I...I'm so sorry you had to go through that. If-If I had acted faster-" Jester stops him with a hush. "It's not your fault, Fjord. It's just...you went through it too, right? Without anyone?" He doesn't like to think back on those first nights, but he hums in the affirmative on top of her chin. "Must've been scary." "It-It was. But it's better, now. Easier when there's other people around. It'll get better." He feels her cheek against his chest as she nods a bit, leaning further into him. Silence takes over again, each of them lost in their thoughts yet grounded by each other. "So...what else do you remember?" Fjord asks, this time moving back so he could look at her face. She looks up at him with half lidded eyes and a small smile on her face, which only grows when she answers "Weeelllll....I remember everyone talking to me at the ritual...and I remember what you were saying last night." Shit. Fjord feels himself turn red. "I-I know I talked a lot, and, I know its sort of unfair to have only told you when you were, uh, dead, but I meant every word of it, Jester. You've changed me a lot, for the better, and you...you mean a lot to me. Like, a lot, a lot? And, fuck, I'm not sure how to explain-" "Do you like me, Fjord?" "I-" He pauses, takes a breath, and sighs, nodding. "Y-yeah. I think I like you, Jes. I think I like you a lot." She moves away from him suddenly, and for a second he thinks he's said the wrong thing at the wrong time and he moves to give her space to leave him, trying to think of what to say to diffuse the situation so he doesn't lose his best friend but in a second she's close again, this time pressing her forehead against his so that their noses brush past each other. "Good," she breathes. "Because I like you too, Fjord." His hands reach up, caressing her jawline as he closes the minuscule gap between them to brush his lips across her own once, twice before the brush becomes a firm press as she wraps her arms around his neck. They only break apart to breathe, both of them giggling as they gasp for air. They lock eyes again, and he can now see the furious blush that darkens the tieflings' face, and he can only imagine how his cheeks are. They find themselves kissing for a while, softly and slowly, drunk on relief and happiness. He feels Jester get weaker, her movements more sluggish as the events of the day truly start catching up to her. He moves up, pressing kisses on her cheeks, her drooping eyes, her forehead before pulling her close again. "Goodnight Jester," he says, and he feels her relax once more against him as she mumbles something into his chest before falling asleep in his arms. He doesn't dream of drowning this night.

#fjorester #fjord and jester #jester #jester lavorre #jester dies #fjorester fic #layla writes #critical role #cr2 #mighty nien #nott #caleb widogast #cr yasha #caduceus cr #beauregard

[stumacherstan]

Eldrich Quentin Smith x Eeader Headcanons:

You always loved nature

You never seem to notice that whenever you were around Quentin would They suddenly appear

You wouldn’t notice whenever the trees would sway in anger when somebody tried to Flirt with you

You just knew that he was a good pal and he loved you

He didn’t have the guts to ask you out

So you asked him out

Still, you were oblivious to see the flowers bloom and the whole stratosphere change

You joked that you couldn’t breathe so he must’ve taken your breath away

He choked and got everything under control very quickly for you

Quentin didn’t want to accidentally kill you out of excitement

When you two started dating, he always gave you little plant gifts

Let’s say your room looks like a smol garden

You were okay with it tho

They never died even when you sometimes forgot to water them

Quentin told you about him being an eldrich god when he got too jealous and accidentally impaled someone wth a tree branch bc they were flirting with you

You had to take some time to figure it out

It took you a couple of days and you accepted it

Not everyday did a god have an interest in you

You demanded that he showed you the mountains and where he originated from

Mainly to see his home and true form

He did so and you were in awe

Quentin granted you immorality

So you guys lived happily ever after

#thank the stads for autocorrect #a nightmare on elm street #final girls #final boys #quentin smith #quentin smith x reader #quention smith headcanons #im sorry anon #i cpukdnt spell interes for shit

[paperhatsarefun]

Hips Like Oh!

A rare sight brought heat to the demon eldrich’s cheeks. Never in a million years had he been attracted to a being with as great hips as his beloved. The sight of pale, rounded but curved hips accompanied with a very slim pale waist beneath the scientist’s flowy t-shirt kept the demon stuck.

The scientist swayed his hips to the beat of his stereo, his paper bag and lab coat discarded on the desk chair. His arms were crossed behind his head as he moved his hips side to side, gently moving closer to his stereo.

The man’s goggles were in place over his emerald eyes as he swayed his hips to the steady beat and strum of the music. He sang the lyrics out under his breath, murmuring to the loud music. The scientist seemed too sleepy and exhausted to even notice his boss step from the darkness.

However, he flinched as a sound of clapping erupted from the silent aftermath of the music stopping. Flug turned swiftly, his loose shirt swaying in the breeze the action created. “S-Sir?”

The sleepy human slurred softly as he tried understanding what his boss was clapping about. Then the realization hit him and he blushed softly. “O-OH..”

The demon snickered softly, “That was very swell dancing, doctor.”

The scientist smiled, thank god it wasn’t Demencia. “T-thank you, sir..”

The demon nodded and stepped closer, pulling his lean, tall figure from the shadows completely as he entered the scientist’s plane lab. The doctor lazily peeked up at the demon to spot a dash of red on the eldrich’s cheeks, “Sir?”

“Keep up the good work, doctor.” The demon suddenly turned and walked from the desk.

Flug smiled softly, blush accompanying the smile instantly. “Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

#Villains #Villainous #villanos #black hat villainous #villain #dr. villainous #dr. flug villainous #dr flug villainous #villainous paperhat #paperhat villainous #fandom #dr flug #dr. flug #dr flurg #dr. flug x black hat #dr flug x black hat #dr flug/black hat #drabbles #drabble #dr. flurg #gay dweebs #look at these dorks #look at these nerds #gay dorks #black hat #blacklug #blackflug #short but cute #cute boys

[greensungnostic]

Due to Eldrich Fluids, spend the next week remade into a physical manifestation of your lusts! That is to say, rather than be what other people fantasize, you are now reshaped into the (very horny) ideal sexualized body of your own fantasies! (because im totes silly.)

After being exposed to an amount of slime rivalling 1990s Nickelodeon, you're feeling a little funny. You can feel it effecting your body, starting to warp you to match twisted and perverse fantasies. Though it's not the full moon, your cock throbs to full mast, then starts to shift into a canine shape - your foreskin pulls back, bunches up, sprouts a thick pelt of white fur as it converts into a sheath; your cock itself grows longer and longer, losing its flesh tone and becoming slick and lime-green. You groan and shudder as a knot develops, followed by another of the same just in front of it. Instead of stiffening further, however, your cock goes slack, the un-knotted portion becoming long and flexile and opposable, leaving you with a drippy, drooling, knotted bulge. The fur continues to spread and you begin to wolf out - your biggest fantasies were always of being a canid. Thick silver fur, rippling muscles, a maw with a long, wet tongue, the works. Your breasts stay at a moderate size, but your hips and rear flare outward as fat redistributes itself. You're left with a cute padding of pudge over your taut muscles, focused in the tummy, butt, and thighs. Lastly, a pair of tendrils not unlike your gene modded dog's erupt from your shoulders, swaying sinuously behind you. You let slip a low howl, then try to crane your neck down to suckle your own oversized bulge. Everything just feels too good, you need some relief!

[anauthorandherservicedog]

Last Customer of the Night

For @scriptflorist​!

~~~

The rattle of keys was Den's favorite part of Friday night closing at Scripty's Floral Creations. She could just hear the gothic metal band at Divorces Waiting to Happen -- the coffee shop next door -- warming up for their first set of the night. Thinking only of a tasty brownie (with a little something extra baked in) and a redeye, she got the keys out of the cash register and took one step toward the front door -- Only to stop in her tracks when a shadow passed in front of the plate glass window. Shit! It was 6:59, so technically the store was still open for business. Grumbling to herself, she dropped the keys back in the register and closed the drawer as front door opened with a cheerful, tinny chime from the alarm. "Hi! Welcome to --" was as far as she got, because what walked in wasn't human. Oh, it was human-shaped, in that it had two legs and two arms and something on top that might have been a head. But it was hunched and moved bonelessly, as if its joints were put together wrong, and the space behind it seemed to fold and twist before Den's eyes. She blinked, absurdly wondering if her glasses were dirty, and tipped her head to look over the rims. That was worse. So much worse. Because the shadows behind the (thing) customer were all wrong, not black but a deep nacreous green, darker than the void of space, filled with an eldrich light that cast no glow but seemed to consume the very air around it. Her heart lodged in her throat when the (customer) thing stopped before the counter. Den felt herself baring her teeth, a fear-reaction torn from the depths of her soul. "Flowersss," the (thing) customer burbled at her. When it spoke, the tentacles at the bottom half of its face swayed, like seaweed stirred by a riptide. "For --" She coughed and tried to look at the rack of pre-made bouquets, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. "For --" "Anniverssssary." When she pointed at the refrigerated case of roses, her hand wasn't shaking. The rest of her was, but her hand wasn't, and she was proud of that. The (thing) customer turned and shuffled towards the fridge. As soon as its eyes (oh god in heaven, so many eyes) were off her, she slumped back against the shelves of vases. The (thing) customer slid open the door and started plucking roses out -- which was Den's job, but she was not going to protest. When the (thing) customer returned to the counter, it was holding a bundle of roses (had they always been sickly yellow?) in a smooth fist with far too many fingers. Den thought of filler and greenery and something to wrap the flowers. She thought of touching those roses. A drop of blood slipped from a thorny stem. It hit the counter, searing a hole right through with a hiss like a thousand angry wasps. Den felt a little tremor through the soles of her feet and wondered if that hole went all the way through to the core of the earth. "Are --" Another cough. Why had she gone into floral design? She could've been a podiatrist, like her sister. "Are you a teacher or senior citizen?" "Eterrrrrrnal. I prrrrredate the univerrrrrse." Now her hand was trembling. It took her three tries to get the register to cooperate as she punched in the senior citizen discount. To hell with asking for ID. She barely managed to choke out, "Thirty-two fifty, please." The (customer’s) thing's other hand (hand?) reached out, offering a card that she had no choice to take. It was oily black and left a film on her fingertips. It had no print, no chip, no magnetic strip. But when she ran it, the register flashed TRANSACTION COMPLETE. THANK YOU. She slid the card across the counter and jerked her hand back. "Haveanicenight," came out in a rush. The (thing) customer burbled something in response. It turned, giving her another look at the eldrich shadow behind it, like tattered wings, before it disappeared into the night. She had no idea if it opened the door or simply stepped into another dimension. A pop! broke free the scream that had been building in her chest. She spun, slamming a hip into the register, and caught the smell of smoke from the back room. Her only thought was that if the back room on fire, she'd have to flee out the front door, where that (customer) thing had gone. But there was a fire extinguisher and a phone to call 911 and maybe her therapist, so she braced herself for an inferno and raced into the back. But all she saw was smoke rising in ozone-scented curls from the ancient DVR hooked up to the security system. Apparently, their last (customer) had done it in. Shaking with relief, she slumped into the creaky chair by the manager's desk and nodded to the DVR. "You and me both."

#scriptflorist #ficlet

[pinebypine]

Longest Night of the Year

Triplet AU Fic. The triplets have been caught up in a cult’s midnight shenanigans.

In the monster movies, when the evil cultists have the virginal maiden tied to a post so she can be sacrificed to the ancient eldrich horror or terrifying creature out of time, she is always in a thin slip of a dress that reveals just about everything. Mabel had quite liked those scenes in the movies, it was practically the climax of the film and she either got to see the monster get defeated by the intrepid heroes or, occasionally, somebody get eaten. She’d secretly imagined what it might be like to be in such a position, held spreadeagled and awaiting an uncertain fate.

What she had not imagined was doing so in central Oregon in the middle of the night in the dead of winter. Mabel was freezing her tuckus off. She was so cold in fact, that her worry about whether it was possible to get frostbite of the nipple was actually overriding the worry coming from the fact, despite all her tugging, she was unable to wiggle or tug or otherwise make any progress on the ropes around her wrists or ankles.

To her left, Ty hung limply by her arms, strung to a post of her own. She’d either passed out or taken a hefty bonk on the head during the struggle to get them tied up here. Mabel was starting to get seriously worried that her sister hadn’t moved in a while. On Mabel’s other side, Dipper was violently thrashing against his bindings, but his yells of fury were being effectively blanked out by the rag that had been stuffed into his mouth and taped over.

If circumstances had been different, Mabel would love to be mocking her brother right now, but not only was this probably the worst time for some good-natured sibling ribbing, she’d been gagged too. She considered though, that despite the obvious handicap of trying to make-over a struggling and unwilling subject, theses cultists had done a surprisingly decent job making her brother look like a girl.

Several red and guttering lights began to bob toward them through the trees.

Oh thank god, Mabel thought, they’ve got torches. Maybe they’re just planning on burning us alive. At least then I’ll be warm.

“Behold the sisters of the year! The triple-goddess made incarnate again!” A voice called out from the darkness.

Mabel heard her brother’s faint yelling grow slightly louder. She could discern shapes in the darkness now. Hooded figures surrounded them, some holding torches, others sickles, and yet others what looked like branches.

The cultist speaker continued. “For this night the Wild Hunt has ceased its endless game and rests; so that in the belly of this darkness, the seed of the new year can be sown. We call to you, Leader of the Hunt, King of Winter, Father of the Seasons!”

Around the triplets, the cultists all repeated the titles, thrusting their torches and implements into the air.

“Come to this glade, receive our willing sacrifice, and set burning the fire that will warm the world!” She then continued to speak in some other language that Mabel didn’t recognize and the other cultists took up the words as some sort of chant. At the shouting grew louder, Mabel thought she also could hear the baying of hounds start somewhere in the distance.

She quit pulling against her ties; all she had accomplished until this point was to give herself rope burns. She craned her neck and peered up at where the rope that bound her wrists was secured to the post. If she swayed her arms and body back and forth, she could see the knot slip along the wood. Was it working loose? She couldn’t tell but it was better that what she’d be trying before.

There were definitely animal sounds coming from the forest now; dog howls and horses hooves. Mabel looked past the hooded figures and saw riders circling, getting closer. She looked up at the ropes above her; the knot seemed to have loosened slightly and she was dragging it across the rough bark of the post. Keep this up, she reasoned, and the rope would certainly wear through. That might take minutes though, and she was becoming more and more convinced that they did not have that kind of time.

Mabel checked on her siblings as she continued to work at her bindings. Dipper wasn’t flailing anymore, he had a look of deep concentration on his face and Mabel saw that he’d managed to twist his wrists apart a little, and the fingers of one hand were digging at the knot. On her other side, Ty was as still as the dead, mouth hanging agape. Mabel saw her sister’s hair begin to whip around her head as a fierce wind swelled, biting into all of them.

The cultists and dog fell silent in a rush and the air became lifeless around them. The woods were dead calm, but for the sound of hooves and bodies moving in saddles beyond the rim of the lights. Dipper made a small noise of shock and Mabel turned to see a figure standing before them.

He was enormous, like someone had put an NFL linebacker in a copy machine and hit the 150% scale button. A pair of curling, many-pronged antlers rose from his forehead and Mabel should see wisps of frost floating from their points. His mountainous shoulders were wrapped in what looked like an entire bearskin and he held a spear that could serve as a ship’s mast. His long hair and beard were silvery tangles of thick hair that surrounded a grizzled and scarred face. A single shining blue eye pierced the shadows from beneath his overgrown brows.

One of the cultists came forward and beckoned toward the Pines triplets. “We present you with our offering, Lord of the North. Three pure girls to represent the seasons you will father in them.” She pointed to  Mabel first. “The maiden of spring, blushing with new life and promise.” Her hand turned to Ty. “The mother of summer, in full flourishment of growth.” And finally she indicated to Dipper, who was glaring back so furiously and he might burst a blood vessel in his forehead. “And the crone of autumn, who wanes with the year that it may begin anew.”

The huge man smiled and spoke in voice deeper than the calving of glaciers. “For-wel fæger, bearn.” The spear swung around in his hand and he drove the point of it into the cold ground with ease. Then a hand the size of a spade reached to the clasp of his cloak and pulled it away. His only remaining covering was a loose loin cloth which was not doing a good job of hiding anything at that moment. His smile was wide as he began to close the distance between them.

“Okay, this is complete bull.”

Mabel’s head whipped toward the voice and she saw Ty up and alert, her face a mask of indignation. Mabel’s heart swelled at the sight; her sister must have faked some or all of her time unconscious, and because she had not been struggling the cultists had failed to gag her.

“Fearr?” The man said, looking puzzled.

“Or what comes out of one, in any case. First off, none of us is ‘pure’ by any stretch of the imagination. Second, you will not be planting any seed in anybody tonight. And third, that ‘girl’ on the end there is my brother Dipper. You’re little groupies are trying to pull a fast one on you.”

Now even the sounds of the riders ceased and the wood fell silent, a heavy tension filling the air. The King of Winter’s chest swelled as he drew in a breath, stepped over to Dipper, and lifted the pure white dress. His jaw dropped agape and he wheeled on the cultists.

“Sparks and splinters! What on earth were you planning? Did you think I would not notice?!”

The nearest cultist shrunk from him and turned away. “Many pardons, my lord. We attempted to find a set female triplets but there was a mistake and there wasn’t time too-”

The King’s face dropped and he covered it with one huge hand, shaking with frustration. “What are you? Morons? There’s nothing in the ritual that says they have to be triplets. They don’t even need to be sisters. But they do need to be female.” He bent over to look under the hood of the cultist. “I don’t recognize you; how many solstices have you overseen?”

By her body language, the cultist was unprepared for this sort of questioning. “Uh. One.”

A single large silver eyebrow cocked at her. “Really?”

“Well, including this one. Look we’re doing our best.”

The King heaved a sigh and turned back to the triplets. “I am so very sorry; they shouldn’t have bothered you three with all this.” He strode over and with a casual tug, snapped the rope holding Mabel’s arms up. “There seems to be a misunderstanding among my worshippers about a few things.”

Ty was freed next, then Dipper, who wobbled and nearly fell over when he tried to put weight on high heels. Mabel shook the loops of rope off her hands and tore at the tape over her mouth. “Ow ow ow. Man that hurts.”

“Oh dear, you three look cold. Here.” The fur cape was lifted from the ground and the King wrapped it around them in a bundle. The steamy heat of it began instantly to warm them. “Out of curiosity, were the ropes your idea? I mean, I’m all for a little kinky stuff but I just want to make sure nobody thought they were expected.”

Mabel fumed. “The ropes were because we kept trying to get away! They trapped us outside our Grunkle Stan’s cabin! They threw a net over us!”

“We only came to Oregon,“ Dipper chimed in, ”because we got a letter from him saying to come give him a ride back home for Christmas. But when we got here we find out he’s in Barbados for three weeks. I think they faked that letter to get us out here!” He almost lost his balance again but was caught by his sisters.

Ty finished the tale. “Then they panicked because Dipper was actually a boy; which probably shouldn’t have been that hard to figure out before they kidnap somebody. So they decided to try and fool you, dressed us like this and tied us to these posts.”

The King’s head sank again. “Oh son of a...” He turned back to the robed figures, who were congealing into a tight crowd. “That’s what you think I want? This is supposed to be fun. It’s the one night off I get all year and you guys think I want to spend it...” He shuddered visibly. “You’re just supposed to put an ad in the newspaper or something. ‘Wanted: three beautiful young women to lay with god of winter. Lubricant and snacks provided.’”

Huge fists clenched and the triplet’s head height. “You know what?” the King’s voice was suddenly full of resignation. “Since my evening has suddenly become free, I think it’s time for the Wild Hunt to get back to its business.” The baying of the hounds resumed and now the glint of the moonlight off of metal was visible among the motionless riders. The King of Winter smiled. “I’m going to take these nice young people back to their cabin and then I go back to work; that’s how much of a head start you all get. Not that it’ll make any difference in the end.”

When the hooded figures had scrambled from sight, the huge man plucked his spear from the ground and beckoned to the Pines triplets to follow him. They did, helping Dipper when necessary, and were lead a few dozen yards away to a spot where an enormous wagon sat in wait. Harnessed to it were more than a dozen horned beasts: elk, deer, bison, and even some sort of antelope with a strangely shaped nose. A pair of attendants, who were so covered in leather, furs, and sheathed weapons that not a scrap of skin showed, handed the King a huge set of reins, helped the triplets up onto the wagon’s copious bench seat, and began to unchuck the wheels.

“I hope you three can forgive me for the actions of my worshipers. I assure you this is the last time I let the new world branch of my church handle a big event.” The King pulled another fur cape from the back of the wagon and tossed it around hiself, then commanded his draft animals into motion. He shook his head in shameful wonder. “Ugh they didn’t even get all the names right. They’re lucky this wasn’t midsummer; Titania isn’t as merciful as me.”

Mabel looked at him quizzically. “Aren’t you going to hunt them like animals?”

As the King laughed, they could see a few snowflakes fall from his horns. “Compared to what my queen would do, that’s practically a slap on the wrist.”

Mabel felt some movement inside the immense span of the fur cloak and then heard Ty whisper in Dipper’s ear. “Did they actually shave your legs? You are really smooth.”

Her brother hunkered into the fur more. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mabel slipped her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, bro. It turns out you’ve got some great gams.”

Dipper sunk further. “I hate you both.”

They didn’t seem to have gone very far, but the dark bulk of the Mystery Shack, shuttered up and closed for the season, suddenly loomed before them. When the wagon came to a halt near the front door, the strange attendants seemed to materialize from nowhere and helped them down. The King of Winter dropped from the wagon and placed a hand on Mabel’s shoulder.

“I owe you all a debt that will be difficult to repay. But we’ll see about getting a start on it, at least.” He rose and pulled a wrapped parcel as big a man from the back of the wagon and a sack of nearly the same size; these he handed to his attendants, instructing them to get things set up inside. Then he knelt on one knee before the Pine’s siblings and smiled warmly at them.

“I want you to know that you may count me a friend.” And suddenly they were encircled by a pair of arms like anchor chains. As the King rose, his one eye twinkled at them. Then he leapt into the seat of his wagon and bellowed some of that strange language into the sky. The sounds of the hunt grew around them and swelled as the King whipped his wagon team into a frenzy, speeding off into the forest.

One of the attendants retrieved the King’s cloak from the Pines siblings, and, divested of its warmth, they all hurried inside.

“Oh my god, Mabel.” Ty giggled. “Did you see he popped out of his loincloth when he knelt down?”

“I know! When he hugged us it was like- BAM- right there. Swear to god, it was the size of my leg.”

Dipper groaned. “Will you two grow up?”

“How is that even supposed to-”

They all froze when the saw the interior of the shack; the place seemed remade. Candles burned from nearly every horizontal surface. A fire crackled in the wood stove. The little table in the living room overflowed with food: roasted meats, loaves of bread, fruit, and a plethora of sugary things covered in frosting. Laid out in middle of the room were three piles of parcels, wrapped in plain brown paper but bearing colorful ribbons and tags.

Dipper started to walk toward the enticing spread of food but wobbled on a heel and landed in Ty’s arms. When he was righted and starting to kick off the shoes, Mabel dug him in the ribs with her elbow. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it, Big D.”

“What?” Dipper looked up with a slightly hunted look. “No, no! No I won’t; this is never happening again!”

Ty winked at her sister and ambled over to the table. “Oh I think that now that we know the possibilities, at the very least we’re going to have to come up with something different for next years Halloween costumes.”

“No, Ty.” Dipper started pulling off the dress.

Mabel caught one of his arms up with hers and gave him a tender peck on the cheek. “You’ll make a great Buttercup, Dip.” She started to drag him over to eat.

“No, Mabel.”

There was a lull in the conversation as began to dig into the food. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast and started to pack it away like only teenagers can. Eventually Ty was the one to break the silence.

“So, are we just not going to talk about what happened out there in the woods?”

Dipper swallowed a huge mouthful of venison. “You mean that it turns out Santa is a prehistoric seasonal god of the hunt with antlers and an army of riders and dogs that he uses to chase people and that once a year some followers of his arrange for him to have four-way with three young women to don’t have to be related but it would appear to be preferred?”

Mabel perked up. “Or that he’s got a huge cock?”

Ty considered the choices. “I’m gonna go with ‘cock’. It’s a much more interesting topic.”

Both of the girls turned to their brother; it would appear that unwrapping their presents was going to have to wait.

#pinecest #pinebypine #GFTripletAU