#i have no clue about mosses though.

[itslookingback]

i need to get better at identifying lichens and mosses......

#at the moment i can do the types of lichens crustose foliose fruticose but thats easy #i have no clue about mosses though. #lichen subscribe #at a moss for words #blue squawks

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

come & talk to me

Pairing: Rook Hunt x gn!Reader

Writing Genre: oneshot

Genres: romance, rom-com

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: arrows getting within 5 centimeters of reader

Notes: This idea came to me about two weeks ago, and I wrote it within the same night gfjfjfk. I hope you enjoy this Valentine's fic -- it's titled after one of my favorite songs! <3

Read it on ao3!

~~~

The fourteenth of February – Sweetheart's Day – as it’s known here in Twisted Wonderland. A day in honor of the goddess of love and beauty, where romance was around every corner and admirers prospered.

It seems I have one of my own, you thought, noticing the dazzling and voluminous bouquet sitting on the island of Ramshackle’s kitchen. A lovely little purple box was placed next to it, adorned in golden trim and a red bow. Peering through the window of the box, you saw an assortment of sweets. A few chocolate-covered strawberries still appearing fresh, heart-shaped macarons in various shades complementing the box, and finally petit fours decorated in the signature colors of your dorm. Upon closer inspection of the bouquet, you observed the selected flowers: traditional red roses, gardenias, jonquils, blue violets, and moss rosebuds. A note was nestled between your collection of nature’s beauties, and it read:

Your eyes shine like ever radiant starlight,

Will you choose to be mine tonight?

- ↣

A smile blossomed on your lips as you huffed, feeling as though you were the lead in a cheesy romance movie. Taking the box with you and keeping it away from Grim’s tired and hungry grabby hands, you left to attend your first period.

—

“Whatcha got there, Y/n?” Ace asked, jogging up next to you in one of the exterior hallways.

“A box of treats from an admirer.” you replied matter-of-factly.

He chuckled before speaking, “Any clue who it is?”

“Not yet. The note was only signed with an a–”

Your sentence was cut off as an arrow whizzed by only about 4 centimetres in front of your face.

“Arrow.” you finished, handing your box to Ace.

You approached the section of mortar where the arrow was lodged. Attached to its sharp end was a letter and another moss rosebud wrapped in purple striped twine. Recalling your flowers and note, you had no doubt as to who had sent their affection flying your way. Tugging the arrow out of the wall, you carefully removed the note. Lifting the flower off of the paper, you wordlessly gave it to the redhead next to you before opening the light brown letter.

Witnessing your joy is truly a treasure,

I hope my gift brought you pleasure.

Please do me the honor of accompanying me,

In the majestic forest beneath the trees.

Eight o’clock tonight,

Follow the lights.

- ↣

Excitement bubbled in you at the prospect of meeting your admirer, but it was slightly dispelled by Ace’s pessimism.

“How do you know they’re not going to murder you?”

—

Sitting down at the table of your merry little band of first years for lunch, you were immediately bombarded by statements.

“An arrow at your head?! It definitely sounds like they want to kill you.”

“Thank you, Deuce, very supportive.” you retorted.

“Letting treats and letters win you over so quickly?! Ha, what a silly little human!”

With a glare at the group, silence reigned. At least until Jack spoke up, “Do you know who it is?”

“I don’t.” you replied.

“What if it’s Henley?” Ace joked.

Your entire table groaned at the mention of the most cumbersome member of your class.

“What if it’s Rook?” Deuce queried.

Epel gagged at the idea, but you simply sat with it for a minute.

What if it was Rook?... No, definitely not. While you had been bantering more and more often, even borderline flirting really, there was no way. He had taken it upon himself to teach you archery, and walk you back to your dorm everyday after classes, and bring you dinner on nights where you were too occupied by your studies, and help you branch out in fashion, exploration, and… oh Great Sevens, it was Rook.

Noticing your sudden introspection, the first years slowly went quiet. As you fought to keep your cheeks from widening, Epel’s face looked aghast as he shouted “No!”

—

When the clock struck seven forty-five that night, you finished dusting off your outfit and left Ramshackle. As the poem said, lights outlined your path across the campus and through the forest. The little balls of light dissipated after you passed, most likely due to their magic origins. The woods near campus were truly beautiful – pines, oaks, ash, cedar, and even apple trees – created a lovely backdrop. As you got closer to the river, more lights appeared. The soft bubbling in unison with crickets enveloped you in nature’s music as your steps soon met various flowers that coexisted with the vast expanse of trees. A smile and ironic chuckle occurred on your lips as you realized they were the exact flowers from your bouquet.

“Thank you for joining me, ange.”

Your head turned to face the blond emerging from behind the large weeping willow bordering the river.

“Of course. It’s only fair that I come admire you as well.”

He winked before voicing, “You didn’t come see me out of duty.”

You chuckled lightly before replying, “No, I did not. I came to confess my affections for you… but I feel as though you already knew.”

He smirked and took your right hand, “What kind of hunter would I be if I didn’t?”

You followed him as he guided you to a small rowboat. He held your hand to provide support as you stepped in and sat down before sliding in across from you and grabbing the oars. He set a light pace as you traveled north, observing the various changes in your surroundings. While the silence was loving, you couldn’t help but ask a question drifting through your mind.

“I noticed you gave me moss rosebuds twice. Do they have a special meaning I am unaware of?”

“Indeed they do.” He began, focusing on you yet still rowing, “They represent confessions of love. Blue violets mean I will always be there, jonquils communicate a desire for affection returned, gardenias stand for secret love, and red roses are for your one and only love.”

With each addition to the list you felt giddy, and by the end like swooning.

Rook laughed at your visible reaction – something you decided was now one of your favorite sounds.

In two more rows, you arrived near the windmill. Beneath it was a perfect little picnic, set up with more magic lights and ravishing food. A large box also laid wrapped similarly to the one for your treats – minus the window. With your hands once again intertwined, you slowly approached the romantic setting.

When you sat down, Rook smiled brightly before handing you your gift box and saying, “Happy Sweetheart’s Day, ange.”

You eagerly unwrapped the Pomefiore-colored box and gasped at what was inside.

A breath-taking bow sat in red silk, it’s dark cherry wood a perfectly contrasting match. Patterns of nature were carved into the wood, and no matter how small the line or crevice they all appeared to have been sanded. Such a tenacious task done with so much care and tenderness brought forth strong emotions, and you found yourself thanking the hunter with a kiss. He seemed momentarily caught off guard before melting at your long awaited touch.

“I love it, Rook.”

“And I love you, Y/n.”

#coff writes for twst🍸 #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x yuu #twst x you #twst x y/n #twst rook #twst rook hunt #twst pomefiore #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland rook hunt

[geeoharee]

What a lovely thing a rose is!

I've been staring at the Naval Treaty email schedule going "are we there yet?" since Wednesday, and we're HERE!

I know the standard argument is that he was looking for A Clue over near the vase of flowers - do you believe it for a second? I don't. That might have required walking over to the vase. It did not require a short monologue on the goodness of God followed by completely losing touch with the fact there were other people in the room.

He walked past the couch to the open window, and held up the drooping stalk of a moss-rose, looking down at the dainty blend of crimson and green. It was a new phase of his character to me, for I had never before seen him show any keen interest in natural objects. “There is nothing in which deduction is so necessary as in religion,” said he, leaning with his back against the shutters. “It can be built up as an exact science by the reasoner. Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its colour are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.”

From a 'Holmes as queer' perspective, independently from the Holmes/Watson perspective, it's probably my favourite paragraph in the book. I'm not gonna pretend to be very educated about queer thought in the 1890s, I'm just extremely gay and think that 'Isn't it nice that my heart can find this beautiful, even though that feeling serves no purpose for the continuation of the human species?' might mean something. And that he believes it's a gift from God. Given the place and time he's living in, I think that's incredibly powerful.

Oh yeah and I found a floriography dictionary.

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson #nava #the moss-rose speech #queer shit

[fullmoonfireball]

sorry if this is an ask that has been sent to you in the past, but, splatoon weapon mains for Olimar, Louie, and the Rescue Corps? Plus an honorary Oatchi and Moss if you feel up to it

nope, not something i've been asked before! i've discussed the first two's mains with Sleepy at least though so it's not like this is a foreign concept to me

Olimar would be a Splatling main (specifically Nautilus and/or Heavy Edit)

Louie,, Brush or Blasters. maybe the occasional Slosher too-oh my god these are just Big Man's weapon picks fuuuck. it's fine it's a very "having fun+playing" weapon set even if they're doing it in two different directions. i'm thinking Octobrush/Clash Blaster/Explosher

Collin is real "living beacon" type guy I think. very consistently remains alive even when no one else on the team is. pretty much exclusively does backlines, and mains Chargers and Splatlings. probably would want to main the Tenta Brella too.

Shepherd plays the Splatana Stamper Nouveau. could see her doing Rollers/Brushes too, but that in particular is calling to me. she's just got strong melee vibes i guess.

Russ is a Blaster main, no question. he misses the days where the Luna Blaster was OP, but still uses it anyways. he's also 🤏 this close from getting banned from competing in anything due to making some Grizzco Weapon-esque bullshit.

Dingo is a Dualie main, also no questions. probably Tetra Dualies specifically. he feels like the kind of guy who tries to dodge roll as much as physically possible. he'll also do Splatana Wiper from time to time. totally not to try and show off to Shepherd.

Yonny is an E-Liter main. no notes. he just is.

Bernard... is a hard one. semi-auto Shooters are kind of calling to me for him? not sure which one but . yeah

no clue what Oatchi and Moss would use because. oggys. but here's some Koppaite mains for funzies/to round things out:

Alph.... i think is a Shooter main. very much appreciates the versatility of the class. probably would love to study the meta but wouldn't pick weapons solely based on it, yknow.

Brittany is definitely a Squiffer girlie. she can do other Chargers fine, but that one's her favourite. she'd probably also like to crush people with a nice big Roller sometimes, but...

Charlie is 100% a Roller main. just look at him. the man talks about beating up the creatures of PNF-404 with his "steely fists" in 3DX's Piklopedia. of COURSE he's a roller main. he's probably big into the Dynamo Roller specifically.

#theonimo #ask

[brighttears]

Battery V Jump

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

No physical description

Summary: You reach Albany, but get ambushed not far into the city. Joel escapes, but you wake up tied to a chair with a battered Tess next to you. You handle it before Joel finds you and you escape. You rest in a church before finding somewhere to spend the night. 

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: Violence: capture, threats of torture and SA, death (of the captors); reader almost dissociates, readers wrists get scratched up

A/n: wooo new chapter!! more mean characters… not a lot of romance in the chapter ngl but next chapter there will be i promise 

—

Naturally, you act like nothing happened last night, like your current worldview wasn’t just shaken like a snow globe. You did, however, expect that maybe Joel would be a bit friendlier now, but alas, he’s even colder than he has been, much less of a bite, and you surprise yourself with how much you miss the banter. He says almost nothing as you pack up and hit the road, burying his nose in the map. 

You’ve graduated from farmland to small town suburbs, and within a few hours, you’re at the bridge finally connecting you to the city of Albany.

Greenery warps and hangs around the barrier separating the road from the sidewalk, carpeted with moss, and the curved fence edging the bridge. You weave around cars, jammed and abandoned from when people tried to flee the city. You keep your eyes fixed straight ahead, avoiding the clothed skeletons hanging out of car windows and whatever other casual horrors are laid out on the highway. 

“This is the Hudson.” Joel comments as you cross over the river. 

“No shit.” You quip without really thinking about it. Tess glances back at you and chuckles. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d learned that in school yet.” Joel returns. 

“How fucking old do you think I am?” You counter, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Young.” He retorts, then looking back ahead, signaling that the exchange is over. You huff but say nothing. 

It’s back to silence as you continue, all of you focused on this new environment. As you cross into the city, Joel digs the map back out, skimming his finger along possible routes. 

“We’ll find route 90, a bit further into the city, then find 88 and follow that out of New York.” He announces. 

“Alright. I’m trusting you with these directions,” Tess says, glancing back at him. 

“Well, you should.” He replies. 

“I’m just fine following blind,” you droll. 

“Good, cause ain’t no one’s takin’ directions from you.” Joel bites, and you look back at him with a slight smirk. 

“I know you aren’t.” You look back ahead at the oncoming city, “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Not much of a ride,” Tess remarks, “maybe we can find a car somewhere around here, though. One that actually fucking works, I mean,” she kicks a busted fender. 

“Maybe a shop somewhere.” Joel adds. 

“That would be grand.” You say, earning an annoyed look from Joel. You smile to yourself, playing around with the piece of information you have held invisibly over his head. 

“Alright, kids,” Tess says dryly as you come to a circular crossroads of the highways past the river, “time to shut the fuck up for awhile. We don’t know this place, what to expect. Which way’re we going, Joel?” You both look back at him and he nods his head to your right, folding the map to tuck under his arm.

“We’ll follow 5 for a while, that’ll take us to 90.”

“Roger that.”

You walk again in silence for a long while, observing the city. Joel leads the way, you and Tess following from his sides.

“Plenty of hotels. Tourist city, I guess.” Tess comments after a while.

You point out, “I thought we were supposed to shut the fuck up?” 

“I said you two shut the fuck up. Unless you can learn to get along.” She says it with a look to Joel, and you bite back a smile. He gives her a harsh look back, and she has to hide her own smile. They both think you’re in the dark here, and you relish in the secret. You still have no fucking clue what to do about it, if you’ll say anything or wait for him, if he even does ever bring it up. Regardless, you don’t have room to worry about it right now, which you are also appreciative of. You feel optimistic about the city, plenty of places to dig through, and, as Tess said, maybe a soft bed to sleep in at some point, maybe even a car. 

Just as the thought crosses your mind, Tess says, “Holy shit, an auto shop,” pointing down the road. Sure enough, only a few yards away from you is a Firestone, a few cars still left in the lot with large open garage doors revealing all sorts of tools and supplies in the shop behind them. You let out a laugh of relief, almost not believing your eyes. 

“Maybe we can fix up one of those cars,” Joel says as you walk into the lot, “get back on the road.”

“Fuck yeah,” you say as you cross into the garage

“Keep it down,” Joel tells you in a hushed tone, unholstering his gun as you move in, “we don’t know what’s in here yet.”

“Sorry.” You reply, though a smile stays on your face. This might be your second lucky break in a week. A garage full of tools, with plenty of cars ready and waiting for Joel’s handywork. 

Just as the three of you come to the middle of the shop, a harsh screeching sounds behind you and you turn, expecting Infected, but it’s the garage doors slamming shut, trapping the three of you inside. Before you can react, your attention comes back to in front of you as your shirt is pulled into someone’s fist, and you watch helplessly as a fist hurtles towards your face. 

—

A sharp pain echoing through your sinuses awakens you, and you groan before opening your eyes. You roll your head forwards from where it had been hung back, making the pain worse, groaning again. 

“Good morning, princess,” sings a voice you don’t recognize, and your eyes shoot open. A tall, spindly man stands before you, hands behind his back, leaning over you with a wide, toothy smile. As soon as you see his eyes, fear tears through you like an icey knife. They’re a very light blue, showing off blown out pupils, but despite the color, they're deathly dark. This man is a monster, you can already tell. You try to move, but realize that you are tied to a chair, and he laughs as you struggle in your seat. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and and your heartbeat whips, each crack pitching every muscle against the tight, coarse ropes binding your hands behind your back and your ankles to the feet of the chair. 

“Oh, calm down, sweetheart,” the man drawls, straightening, still with that predatory smile. The only light comes from through some glass behind you, windowing daylight over his face. 

“What did you do with them?” You demand. 

“Who? Oh, your friends? Well, if you’d look to your left,” he moves his eyes with the lazy hand rolling a pointed finger to the side of you. 

The sight when you turn your head widens your eyes and a chill runs through you. Tess is tied to a chair next to you, her head hung with her chin touching her chest, eyes closed, blood running down from you can’t tell where on her face.

“Tess!” You scream, then your head swings to the other side with a sharp slap to your cheek. 

“Shush, shush, little girl.” The man tells you, suddenly in front of your face, his composed tone lilted by irritation. From his voice, you can tell that he is a man that enjoys torture, who will sing a song as he does it. Someone with a calm demeanor but with vibrating rage just below the surface. He is someone that thrives in these times, where he is free to do as he pleases, a predator released from the zoo. “None of that will do you any good. If you’re too loud, we’ll just kill you, and I don’t want to do that.”

“What do you want to do?” You seethe through your teeth, feeling the wrath pulsate through you. You twist your wrists behind your back, using the stinging pain to keep you focused. Don’t panic. Pay attention. Stay sharp. Learn him. Look for weak spots, vulnerable positions, timing. How are you going to get Tess out of here? Where will you run to? How will you get out? Looking past him, you observe that you’re still in the auto shop, the rusty tools lining the walls and cluttering the work bench against it. A perfect shop for people like him and his crew, being the two other men stood behind him. One is tall and buff, leaning against the workbench. The other stands straight up beside him, short, the kind of skinny where muscle far outweighs fat, wearing a wide, tight smile, wide eyes trained on you. He reminds you of a hyena. 

“Where is the other one?” You ask. 

“Oh, your other friend? Well, he’s the one that got away. Ran for his life, that friend of yours is a coward, you know. Left the two of you alone, left you for dead. Some friend, huh?”

He’s lying. You don’t doubt that for a second. If they’d captured or killed him, there’d be no reason to hide that from you. So where is he? What is he doing? You say nothing, considering which angle you should play. You don’t know enough yet. 

“Is she dead?”

“Who, that one? No, I don’t think so.” He snaps his fingers to the men behind him and points to her, “Check.” You watch largest man, buff arms covered in tattoos and scars, come to her and lift her head up by her hair, making you clench your teeth, and hold a finger under her nose before letting her head drop back down. “Breathing.” He reports. 

“See? She’s fine. Maybe a little roughed up, but no, not dead.”

“What do you want?” You keep your tone as even as you can, but the question comes through teeth that won’t unclench. 

“What do I want? Well, I used to say a million bucks, but that’s not very useful anymore, is it?” He cackles, leaning his head back with it, and you see the teeth in his mouth, big and perfectly straight. The view makes you feel like a small animal, and your heartbeat ricochets around your chest, splashing in fear doused in rage’s gasoline. “Aw,” he drawls, catching his breath, “well, I want everything you have.”

“Why not just fucking take it then? Why the fuck do you have us tired up?” 

“Well, because that’d be so boring. I want to have some fun,” he grows a wide smile, though his eyes don’t move with it. A cold finger starts a line from your throat up to your chin, and then he clamps his hand on your cheeks, squishing your face. “If you know what I mean.” He lets your face go, but not before brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. You do know what he means. You say nothing. He wants you to swear at him, insult him. Struggle. You need to draw this out. 

“So you guys just camp out here all day just waiting for someone to roll through?” You start, “Sounds pretty boring. This must be like Christmas for you guys, huh?” You look around at the men about the room—three here including the man still leaning over you, the buff man who touched Tess has an assault rifle hanging over his shoulder. The hyena has no weapon visible, but that is no comfort; he’s not trying to show off his threat, but he’s not hiding it, either. He looks like he wouldn’t even need one, he’d just jump on you like a fucking monkey and strangle you to death with his bare hands, screaming the whole way through. 

“Another smartass, huh?” The main man says. He’s obviously the ringleader, and his slight frame indicates that he must be much smarter than the rest, a natural born cult leader, minus the numbers. “Well, that’s ok. Once I pull all your teeth out, that won’t be a problem.” He starts laughing heartily again, as if what he said is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. The rest of them chuckle. These people are unhinged. What used to be reality is a distant dream that they are happy to have woken up from, and the apocalypse has fried their little brains. 

How the fuck are you gonna get out of this? If only Tess would wake up, help you cause a distraction, have another person to up your chances of overtaking them. Where the fuck is Joel? You’re sure he’s ok. Like you said, there’d be no reason for them to hide it if he wasn’t. But what is he doing? You don’t doubt he’s trying to find a way in. But how long until then? How much time do you have?

Your wrists sting as you wring them against the rope, what must be blood starting to wet your palms. As you twist, the rope loosens, only slightly, and you still your movements. 

Start talking. Buy time. Create a chance to take. Pray that Joel is working some plan out somewhere outside, pray that Tess will wake up, and pray that they want to drag this out. 

“So what, you want a blowjob?” You start again, “Tag team? Or do you all want to have a little incest orgy? Granted you’re not all already some inbred family. Maybe explore a little guy on guy action?” You throw affronts out, wanting to get them uncomfortable. Distract them with an onslaught of insults, get them pissed, riled up, but distracted. While they fume and think of methods of revenge, you’ll find a chance. The other ones will get up, start coming towards you, looking at all the different places on your body they’ll hurt you, and you’ll free your wrists, push whoever’s front and center as hard as you can to topple the rest of them. And then—shit, what about your feet? You wriggle your ankles at the thought, but they barely move with how tight they’re tied. You’ll need time to untie them. If you could grab that gun, take them out in one sweep. Yes, that’s how you’ll do it. “You know, it’s never too late to explore your sexuality.” The faces of the men farthest back start to twist as you goad and you hold back a smirk. Many men are still predictable in this way, being accused of liking other men only a step below insulting their mothers. “I mean, sure does get lonely out here. Can’t be that many women coming through here.”

“Shut up, bitch,” the ringleader spits, slapping you again, hard enough for you to taste iron. “Enough women come through for us to have a little routine with them,” he starts to chuckle, though not as casual as it was before. Already, you’re getting them going, and the other three start to move forward with twisted smiles. You’re surprised at how well your plan is working. “First, we’ll let you talk a bit. If someone screams, we crush the throat. You both have been real quiet though, eh? Curious. Anyways, then we take out the teeth, like I mentioned. Makes the rest much easier on us.” Ringleader licks his lips, leaning towards you again. Grown out, greasy hair falls over his eyes. He smells like rust and mildew. They must live here in this garage, like rats. Rat King suddenly seems like much less of a deal than he did in Boston. Right now, you almost miss him.

“Come on, come on,” Hyena speaks up from the back, jumping on his toes. “She’s right, it’s been awhile since we’d had someone in here. I’m—”

Ringleader swings his head to him, “Shut the fuck up.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll lock you in the fucking back.”

Hyena stills and quiets, though his teeth grind behind spread lips, that wild look in his eyes now trained on the man as he turns his attention back to you. Yes. The loose cannon. He hates him. You wonder if you could find the right words to get him to attack him. Now that would be something. 

“You lock him in the back?” You half laugh, “Like a dog? Jeez, man, that’s pretty harsh. What, is he like your pet?” Hyena’s wide eyes are trained on you now, expressionless as he continues to grind his teeth. 

“Alright, can we shut her up now?” The buff man speaks up, walking up you with a stony, desensitized expression. He looks at you like you’re meat—not even that, like a doll. Your blood boils, but fear still runs through it. 

Joel, please god, please, where are you? Help, please, help us, there’s too many. I’m fucking scared Joel, please. I can’t fucking carry Tess out of here. Where are you? Are you coming?

“Already?” You reply, looking between them. “I was just starting to get to know you guys. What about you?” You look at the largest man, “I’m surprised you’re not the one in my face right now. You look like you could easily take control. You don’t even need the gun. How come you’re taking orders from this guy?” Another hard slap, and you feel blood dribbling down your chin. You keep your head to the side for a moment, looking for anything close by, anything on the ground you might be able to use, but there’s nothing. Then your face is in his hands again, burning pain pounding up to your temples as you stare back into those light but dead eyes. 

“You think you’re so smart? You think you’re so cute? You think you’re tough? Well, not for long, pretty girl.”

“Can we just get those fucking teeth out of her head now?” Hyena speaks, sounding like an inpatient child. 

“Shut the fuck up—” Ringleader looks back at him, still gripping your cheeks firmly.

“No you shut the fuck up,” Hyena suddenly exclaims, grabbing the pliers on the bench next to his hand, “before I rip your fucking teeth out! Your fucking teeth out!”

“Calm the fuck down—”

“You calm the fuck down, you calm the fuck down!” “Jesus fucking christ, you’re gonna call every fucking Infected in this town over if you don’t quiet the fuck down,”

“Your fucking teeth out, your fucking teeth out!” Hyena continues to exclaim. God bless a loose cannon, god fucking bless a loose cannon.

Ring leader lets go of you, approaching Hyena, “Give me the fucking plyers, ok? Her teeth, her teeth ok?”

Big man is turned towards the other two now, his gun hanging over his shoulder. Yes. Yes. Yes. Now!

You rip your wrists free, grabbing hold of the gun to slip off of his arm. “Hey,” he says, but before any of them are even fully turned around, you get a grip and open fire, and they all drop to the floor. 

You have to stop yourself from continuing to fire once they’re down, sitting with it held in your hands, breathing hard. Chills run unrelentingly up and down your body. A groan sounds from your side then, and you look at Tess trying to lift her head up. 

“Tess!”

“Wh—hh–” she groans, finally getting her head to turn to you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. Her left eye is swollen shut, eyebrow and lip both split, the skin of her cheeks all red. “It’s ok, Tess, hold on, they’re dead, I just gotta get out of this chair, and then I’ll get you out of here,” you rattle, dropping the gun to start pulling at the ropes around your ankles. 

A harsh banging from the very back of the shop snaps your head up. “Shit,” Tess hisses as another bang sounds, and your heart squeezes fast beats in your chest. Please be Joel. Please be Joel. Please be Joel. 

The metal door in the back swings open, you can see a silhouette that is, in fact, Joel. 

“Joel!” You cry out, surprised at the desperation coming out of your throat. He rushes in, wide eyes on the bodies as he comes into the shop. 

“Get Tess! Get Tess!” You tell him as you continue to untie yourself, watching his wide eyes flip from you to her. He stares with frantic eyes, lips parted, before rushing to her. He kneels in front of Tess, looking between the ropes tying her ankles to her face wordlessly. As soon as you free yourself, you stumble over to work at her bound wrists. 

“What the fuck happened?” She rasps out, audibly drained. You have no idea what happened while you were out. 

“You got knocked out,” you tell her, heart still drumming, “they woke me up, I don’t know, I just fucking, I handled it, they’re dead.”

“Where the fuck did you come from?” She asks Joel. 

“Broke in through the back. I had to find a way through the fence, the top was barbed.” He explains, obviously trying to hide how distraught he is, seeing the state that Tess is in, and maybe you, too.

“Fucking took you long enough. Oh, Jesus,” she groans as the two of you bring her to her feet. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she assures the both of you, shrugging off your assistance. 

“I’m, I’m sorry, I—” Joel attempts, but Tess cuts him off.

“Save it for once we’re fucking out of here.”

You all rush out the back, Joel leading while you trail behind a struggling Tess. Thankfully, you catch sight of the weapons that were removed from you, grabbing them up with one arm as you leave. The back lot is mostly empty, the fence, as Joel said, lined by large, circled barbed wire. Too big to climb over. 

“How the fuck did you get in here?” You ask Joel as you hand Tess her gun and knife. He looks back at you still with those panicked eyes, then motions to a spot near the edge, where the barbed wire is ripped aside. You look back to Joel and notice that the back of his jacket is shredded. He must have used his jacket to rip it away. He ripped the barbed wire apart. 

As you come to it, Joel looks at you and cocks his head up at it. “You first.” You climb the fence and drop down, Tess coming over after, followed by Joel. 

“Where the fuck do we go?” Tess asks, trying to cover up her flustered state. 

“This way.” Joel answers, then starts with quick steps down the road. He leads you to a church just across the street, slipping through both sets of open doors, then shutting them behind you. You all have your guns raised and ready, but the tiny church is empty. You move through to the back room, also empty. Once the building is cleared, you all come back to the safety of the open chancel, setting yourself down on the short steps at its edge. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, finally looking at your wrists, still streaming tight trails of blood from the scratches left by the ropes. 

“Damn, you tore yourself up,” Tess comments, looking down at them as you hold yourself back from rubbing the injuries. 

“Well, it worked.”

“I am curious about how the fuck you did what you did. I was out cold, I have no fucking clue how you took them all out alone.”

“What can I say,” you shrug, “I’ve got a silver tongue.”

“What, you convinced them to hand their guns overor something?” Tess probes, brow furrowed up with a perplexed smirk. Joel’s face is almost the same. You forgot that you really haven’t known each other that long, they have yet to see you in real action. About time you’ve proved the extent of your worth. 

“No, I got them to fight each other, then snatched the big fucker’s gun. Just got lucky that the ropes on my wrists weren’t tight enough.”

“Damn, golden girl. You impress me more every day.” Tess chuckles, rubbing her ankles as she sits. “Your face doesn’t look too bad either. I guess I got a little cocky about my way with words. Only got them pissed enough to want to knock me the fuck out. Try out the other toy.”

“What’d they do to you?” Joel says, hard voice startling you. He looks at you with his eyes slightly squinted, looking like he’s ready to go kill the already dead bodies. 

“Not much,” you respond, unsure of how to look under his gaze, “slapped me around a little, threatened me, that’s it.”

Joel huffs a breath. He looks like he wants to ask, but at the same time, knows he doesn’t want to know exactly what they threatened to do.

“I don’t know about you two,” Tess cuts in, “but I am about done for the day. Seeing as this place’s clear, let’s just… rest here for a minute.”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” You agree. Joel nods. 

“Alright.” She sighs, looking around, “I’m gonna go dig around in the back and see if there’s any blood of Christ left behind.” She stands, looking around again before heading towards the back room, leaving you and Joel alone on the steps. 

You’re too tired to even worry about the awkward silence, simply sitting in the stillness, hoping Tess does find something in the back that could help calm your still running nerves. 

“You alright?” Joel eventually asks.

“Yeah.” You reply without looking up. You’re alive and intact, so, alright enough. 

“Are y’… are y’ sure?” His tone is unsure, and you look up. His brow is furrowed, puppy dog eyes digging into you, fingers fidgeting where they rest over bent knees. 

You pause. Suddenly, the whole thing between you and Joel comes back to you—what he said last night, the private conversation that Joel doesn’t know you heard. 

“If you uh…” he speaks again, though you’re only half listening, caught up with his face and the words from last night swirling around it. “Wanna, uh…” he scratched his eyebrow, eyes flicking down and then back, “talk ‘bout it, or somethin’…” he trails off, gaze timid.

“That was scary.” You answer unthinkingly. 

Joel shifts. “Yeah, I bet.” 

Something flushes through you then, what must be the adrenaline, leaving only the fear behind. You begin to shake. Those bright blue eyes are in front of you again, that snake’s grin.  

“…I want to have some fun…”

“…Anyways, then we take out the teeth… Makes the rest much easier on us…”

“…Your fucking teeth out, your fucking teeth out!”

“You’re shakin’,” Joel says. 

“I am?” Dazed, your voice is much quieter than you expected.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” Your voice shakes as you look down at your equally discomposed hands. Sticky blood colors them, wiped from the jagged, shallow slices covering your wrists. “Shit.”

“We better get those cleaned up.” Joel says, standing, but you don’t move. He rests his hand gently on your shoulder, and you look up to meet an expression so soft it catches you off guard. He still looks unsure, but genuine sympathy paints his features. “Come on, lemme help you.” Slowly, you stand, eyes locked on him. Gentle. “Come on,” he urges quietly. You nod. He keeps his eyes on you for a moment as he leads you back down the nave. You try to blink yourself securely into the present, shaking the echoing threats out of your head.

They’re dead. Gone. No longer a danger. You are in a church, following Joel, who wants to help you. Tess is in the back. She is safe. Everything is ok. It’s over. 

For now.

“Here,” Joel says, stopping at the font at the back of the pews, a large bowl resting on a plain wood pedestal. You peer into the water, staring at your reflection. 

“Probably not that clean, but, it’s somethin’.” Joel speaks, and you look at his reflection next to yours. He catches your eyes within the pool and then holds the gaze. “Here.” He says, and you look down as he gently takes your wrist in his hands, lowering it into the water. It stings, but you don’t move. Joel softly rubs his fingers over your wrist, then over the palm of your hand, clearing away the blood. Light orange blooms over the water. He lets that hand go to take your other into the water, doing the same to wash them clean. The soft sounds of the water echo around the walls. 

This is the most gentle you’ve ever been handled in maybe the entirety of your life. Despite the size and strength of his hands, Joel’s touch is farther light as he smooths his thumb along the creases in your palms. His breath is in your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, standing so close. His arm brushes against yours and as you watch him clean your wounds in the shallow pool. 

“Alright,” he nearly whispers, letting your hands go. You raise them from the water, using your shirt to dry them slowly. Joel stands before you, lips parted as if he’s meaning to say something. You consider telling him right now, that you heard what he said last night. That he’s not just ‘some old man’, that Tess is right, and that the feelings aren’t unrequited. That there was something about him since the moment you saw him, even with the way he looked at you then. Tell him about that spark you felt the first time you touched. That you want to follow him just as much as you want to follow Tess. That you wished you knew him before, and that you want to know him now. That you hope you know him for a long time. 

“Hey,” Tess cuts through your thoughts, and you both turn to her at the other end of the church, calling out, “No luck, the blood of Christ has turned to vinegar. I say we stay here and eat, then we go back out, find somewhere to stay the night. Dusk’s gotta be close by now.”

“Alright.” Joel says, turning his feet away from you and looking down. 

“Yeah.” You reply, now getting a good look at Tess as she comes in front of you. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah I bet I do. Is it as bad as it feels?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, moving closer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you as you gently use your finger to turn her face, checking over the damage. “Well, I’m sure you know that your eye is swollen shut. That’ll last a day or two. Split on your eyebrow and on your lip. Bruised as fuck. Anything feel broken?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Arlight, good. Mostly aesthetics, then.”

“Except for the temporary blindness, you mean?”

“Except for the temporary blindness.” You chuckle. 

“Well, you look much better than I do. Split lip, split bridge, but your nose isn’t broken.”

“Sorry.”

Her brow pinches, “Why are you sorry?” 

“That, you know, you got it worse than I did.”

Tess chuckles, “Well, you got us out of it while I was out, so no apology necessary.”

“You did a good job back there.” Joel says, and when you look back at him, you can tell he means it, not even a hint of sarcasm on his face. 

“Thanks.” You reply quietly, attempting a light smile. 

“Alright, I am fucking starving.” Tess announces, sitting down with a groan to unpack some food from her pack. 

You eat in silence, all much hungrier than you realized, though Tess eats slowly, chewing with obvious pain. 

“You know, I could chew that up for you, spit it back into your mouth like a bird, if you want.” You tell her. 

She looks confused for a moment as a smirk spreads over her lips, chuckling, which then erupts into full laughter. Joel reacts just about the same, and then you’re all guffawing, the sound echoing through the church. 

“That’s fuckin’ gross,” Joel laughs, feigning disgust.

“No it’s not,” you reply, “it’s utilitarian.” He just shakes his head, still laughing. You shrug, smiling, “Just offering.”

“You know,” Tess says then, “I’m really glad you’re here. And not just because of that shit you pulled back there.” She smiles at you, and you smile back. 

“Me too.”

You glance up at Joel, catching a soft, genuine smile, but once caught, he drops his gaze to the ground. The look on his face tells you he feels the same, but why hide it? You look down at your own food, submitting back into the silence. 

After you’ve eaten and caught your breath—more like felt like you could breathe and think straight again—you decide to walk along route 5 for a while until you find a residential area instead of forking off another way to find somewhere closer. 

After a while of walking, watching the day turn to dusk, you finally reach a string of houses. You stop at the first closest to you, all ready and hoping to be truly done for the day. The house is two stories of dark brick, ivy covering up nearly the entirety of the side of the house, with a row of long dead flowers lining the steps up to the porch. The front door is surprisingly unlocked, allowing you the privilege of having a door to lock behind you. You’re all stanced with your guns and flashlights at the ready as the door creaks open, Joel leading with you tailing. The inside is all dark wood and wallpaper, looking like it was furnished in the 70’s. It’s designed in a way that tells you that this was a two person household, black and white pictures of a couple aging from prom to a wedding day. The house is neat, not like many others which appear to have been torn through both by a fleeing household and ransackers later on. It makes you uneasy as you climb the second floor, expecting the worst in a bedroom, but you find it just as neat as the rest of the house. You let out a breath, lowering your gun as you check around the room. More black and white pictures, an open jewelry box on the dresser, and tall wooden wardrobe next to a large, square shaped window. 

“Clear,” you hear from somewhere else on the top floor, reminding you to respond with the same. You walk back into the hallway to meet Tess and Joel, all three of you reholstering your guns once in sight of each other.

“There's clothes in here,” you report, looking at Joel when you say, “you can replace that jacket.” He looks back at you, obviously having forgotten the state that its in, so you clarify, “The back is of yours is fucking shredded.”

Tess, looking confused, steps behind him to look, and ask, “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Oh, uh, the barbed wire.” He replies. 

“What do you mean, the barbed wire?” She questions. 

“I used it to tear a hole in it.”

“You tore a fucking hole in the barbed wire? That’s what that was?”

“Yeah.” Joel answers shyly.

“Jesus Christ, Joel.”

“Pretty hardcore.” You say to him, smirking. 

He tries not to hide a smile and weaves around you into the bedroom. 

“‘Hardcore’. I like that.” Tess smirks back at you as she follows Joel. 

The wardrobe is filled with clothes of an old couple, women’s options, to both you and Tess’s dismay, nothing but boxy, flowered dresses. The men’s clothes are much more practical, old but sturdy looking jeans, plain t-shirts, and a few different jackets. You choose a thick leather one, as does Joel, while Tess takes the tan suede jacket that suits her incredibly well. All the shirts are just about Joel’s size, but you and Tess can make due with them fine. All three of you keep your jeans, none of you fitting this man’s size. The clothes are dusty and old, but still an upgrade. 

Once you’re all changed, you join in the living room on the first floor. 

“Alright, I’m gonna call the watch order.” Tess announces, “Joel, you’re up first, then me, then you.”

“I don’t need—” you start, objecting to being able to sleep the longest.

“Save it.” She interrupts, “I may look the most fucked up, but however long you spent with those goons has earned you more hours. Alright?”

“Alright.” You submit, feeling like you are now one with Joel, leashed by Tess, though you have no qualms about it. She’s smart, has earned your trust, and you do want to protect her, even though you know she can handle herself fine without it. 

She turns to Joel, “Sound good?” He nods. “There’s a spare bedroom upstairs,” Tess continues, looking back at you, “both look good, so your pick.” You nod, very much liking this dynamic. It’s not like she’s ordering you around, you’re all looking out for each other. “Alright, let’s get some sleep,” she concludes as she stands, and you follow her upstairs. She chooses the spare, leaving you to the master bedroom. 

You plop down on the bed with a heavy sigh. Once alone, you let the day wash over you, grimacing and running your nails over your scalp. It’s been a long time since you’ve been confronted with something that intense, you can only find the kinds of people you ran into today outside of a QZ. Evil people with free range. You’re not sure whether Infected are worse. At least they aren’t fucking smart, just hungry, all they want is to infect you. Kill you, but primarily infect. People get all sorts of ideas, all kinds of twisted plans, people are creative. You lay back on the bed, then curl into the fetal position, hugging your knees to your chest, and close your eyes. You can’t tell whether you’ll be able to sleep this whole night through or if you won’t be able to get a wink, but you pray it’s the former. 

Tess is asleep in the next room over. Joel is downstairs with his gun ready. The house is clear. All the exits have been secured. If anything happens, you will be ready. Always ready. Until then, try to sleep, trying to shake off the horrors, just for a little while. 

#the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us joel #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x female reader #the last of us x f!reader #the last of us show #the last of us series #the last of us tess #the last of us x you #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou x female reader #tlou x reader #tlou x you #tlou tess #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you

[vivacissimx]

[ASOIAF 2024 Official Calendar Cover Art by Justin Sweet]

couple things: obviously i love this new art although i was very surprised to see it (yes everyone knows r+l=j but george you haven't gotten to this part in asoiaf yet!!), particularly as the cover art for the whole calendar. i know there are plans for the harrenhal play in 2023/2024, and that twow seems to be looming so a possible clue that the reveal of jon snow's parentage may very well be in this coming book?

regardless, about the actual art: justin sweet is certainly a conceptual artist from a quick overview of his website & that really shines through here, i mean the placements, the metaphors, the whole composition is soft as forest moss truly.

i love the interplay of light & dark given what we know of these characters: rhaegar with his sense of grief/doom is fully in the shade of the enormous heart tree while lyanna is in the half-light half-dark, perhaps representing her own more optimistic and less convoluted worldview. she's exploring, finding balance; he's watching & seeing something he admires that somehow exists in all the twists and inescapable turns of the forest engulfing them.

the third 'person' in the art is the heart tree itself, old/wise/frowning, but also cradling both lyanna and rhaegar. they're both connected to it, representing in a sense that their fates are sealed & known. this is a stolen moment they're having (it's a false spring!) but despite the simplicity it's still connected to the much larger world around them.

another point i like is the lack of sigil etc on their clothing—we know who they are but the interaction is not one of targaryen to stark on it's face. [there's also this other art by the same artist which parallels lyanna & jon's poses + rhaegar & jon's clothes WE GET IT OKAY]

LAST & MOST IMPORTANT THOUGH: the blue roses at the bottom that are firmly in the light! both rhaegar and lyanna are looking in that direction, the blue roses are of course deeply intertwined with their story but also are connected to their narrative successors in jon & daenerys. daenerys sees the blue rose in her vision in the house of the undying as part of the prophecy on her romantic relationships / jon is told the story of bael the bard & the blue winter rose as a nod to his own hidden identity. the flowers aren't connected to the heart tree directly, just in it's presence, perhaps because the upcoming fate of those two & the entire world is still in the air. at best: they find each other and spring blooms. a dream of spring. at worst: they're swallowed by the weight of history as the tree itself is.

only thing i would have liked to have seen is perhaps some of the deep gashes that daemon targaryen left on the heart tree of harrenhal while waiting there for aemond one-eye to surface. assumedly this is harrenhal as it's spring here & rhaegar/lyanna didn't see each other following harrenhal until winter had reasserted itself. the connection of the targaryen family to the god's eye/harrenhal/the rivers that make up the trident is an interesting and extensive one but! beggars can't be choosers!

all in all very much a treat, the gentle romantic setting of the calm in the storm is Such an ASOIAF vibe and this piece truly captured that

#text #rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #asoiaf #pre asoiaf

[noir-drabbles]

Dyrage 1

Summary: Long has Dyrage split off his attachments to the face you wore. As long as he is here, it must be kept that way. His job, at the current moment, is just to question you, to see if you have memories other than the one you have consumed.

(Ooof, been a while huh? Anyways, no clue if I want to make this character canon or not, but he's been on the brain so I wrote about him anyway. And also because these are literally my little brain creations, I can make anything or nothing canon as I wish. So... yeah!)

And in all your gross and pulsating meaty mass, you closed the distance, getting right into his face with the one that haunts his dreams. This part was human, but that's about as far as it goes. Only skin deep.

And yet, there was something in Dyrage that just… hopes that there was something else in there, that you didn't just copy the genetic and memorial make up of a person. That, somehow or another, you were the soul who's face you were. And that, if it's true, then surely there should be more. You were cut off from a bigger mass, from a red deeply red moss that grew on that divine tree.

A tree that made itself a forest out of Dyrage's own home.

"Does Serenity Hill seem familiar to you in any way."

All of this could've been done behind glass or even thousands of feet above, Dyrage knows that, but he, to an extent, also knows this creature. He knows you, and he knows that you have a particular diet. Or, rather, you know what it is he white coats want.

Stubborn. So stubborn that you would rather eat foods that disgust you. You're starving yourself and you don't care.

Dyrage want to pretend he doesn't know why he tries, but he hates lying to himself. Delusions were a color he'd much rather leave far behind him.

You tilted your head then leaned back, the membranes above his head twitching and turning with your every thought.

"Serenity Hill…" you reached both hands high above you, as though you were reaching up for the sun you're never allowed to see, "The village of white peaches and stagnation. The flavor was always stale upon the tongue, no matter how much effort was poured into the yield. And the texture… it was like biting into a ball of moss."

…The face that you wear and the voice that you speak with. He can't speak of purity, he can't say anything about tarnishing, but he wishes you were nothing more than a monstrosity. Back to that flesh being that was simply that, inhuman flesh in a tube. At least then you wouldn't be able to extract things from his most precious memories.

You speak of his home, of those white peaches as though you were actually there.

But that is all he can do. His thoughts are his alone. He can throw any number of insults within and not worry of what will happen outside.

"And where does this memory originate from?" Dyrage had to grip his pen just so nothing shows on his face. The things he has seen and done, he can't falter. He won't falter.

Your torso twisted around with rubber elasticity. You bowed and were back in front of his face once more.

"You should know well where the memory comes from," Bored. Dyrage allowed himself to entertain your request and already you were getting bored of him. Of course. Of course! "I didn't know you to be one to ask redundant questions. Is there something you're hoping for?"

"It's all standard procedure."

"Liar."

"Simply answer the question and I won't lie to you anymore."

"Hmm," you eased back and settled into the wall of flesh that consumes half the room, as though reclining on a sofa, "Well, it's not as though I truly hate lies."

Dyrage knows that. That man, your pet as he's been called, is still alive to this day. Resting from the strain of fusing a strand of yourself into his spine, but resting and alive nonetheless. He remembers the recordings, about how he was fine and that he’ll be back shortly.

That man, Ash, was also full of lies. No matter the face, no matter the authority, he will lie to them if it means he will not be thought about. Like he wants to disappear and not matter to anyone.

"Don't lie anymore for today," you said with a smile that simply didn't belong, "Tomorrow you can lie as much as you like. I want to see them all one day. There's only so many one can wrap themselves around in before they're nothing more than a suffocating bug."

"The question. I’m still waiting for an answer."

"From this one," you pointed to your face, "Serenity Hill comes from the memories of this one. Nothing more, nothing less."

"…are you sure? Nothing beyond… this?"

Was there truly nothing? Nothing within that collective memory? Nothing from when you were nothing more than a part of a red mass nesting in the bark groves? Was your head truly that empty of anything?

"Nothing beyond, you weird little seeker you. I don't hold any other origin point to draw from. I only have one well. A well that I can peek into to gather all your secrets. Though… well, that doesn't matter now does it? My words hold no power to anyone besides you."

Because you are a,

"Monster. You are right to know your position here. Your awareness makes you all the more precious. And as precious of a being you are, you will be kept safe in mind, body and soul."

A soul that belongs to no one else but you. A soul that Dyrage will not recognize. A soul with no hope in it.

"And for that safety, I'm glad," you snuggled in deeper, smiling wider, "surely this status will apply to my extensions, to my other precious limbs?"

To that man. To one who named himself Ash.

"Of course, we can't very well afford to lose such precious things."

"Who's to say what would happen if they were cut from me. I can't very well control the muscle memory within if that were to happen. After all, my priorities have evolved past instincts, but that's not to say they don't exist anymore."

There is a base and it must not be forgotten. Dyrage will never forget the bloody pedestal you built yourself upon. Your interests are odd, but your instincts remain.

"I will keep that in mind."

But such threats have never held power over him anyway. If you don’t have even a single secret regarding your true origins, about that white tree that has sprouted and laid its roots over the roofs and soil of his homeland, then you held little power.

Your words mean nothing. They have to mean nothing. They must continue to mean nothing.

#patchwork divinity labs #noir.pdl #noir-drabbles #noir-drabbles exclusive #drabble #dyrage #dyrage reed #original character #oc #reader insert

[thetallowman]

More side media - this time the girls' notes on the ritual. They covered a lot of the same ground as I did, but with a few more details. (Lucy wrote them, which makes sense - she seems like she would like having her thoughts out on paper, easier to review and reference.)

The trio really doesn't like Charles. Most of their criticisms reference his appearance/vibes, rather than concerns over the forsworn thing, so I'm still chalking this up to karma. (Has anyone explained karma to them? It's less of a concern when your family isn't ontologically evil, I guess.) They do point out that he can lie now, which is not something I had considered.

Matthew's last name is Moss, and he's a "Host." No real clues as to what the means - maybe some sort of inward-focused shamanism? Pulling in specific spirits, one at a time, and using them? Similar to Evan's firebird routine?

Edith's last name is James, and she's called the "Girl by Candlelight." Not much to go on here either. The specific title and the fact that she's "complex spirit" make me think she's a unique case, not falling neatly into any category - though the eyes and the hat remind me some of the Little Match Girl? Could be a ghost or ghost-adjacent along those lines.

Guttermuck girl is named Alpeana, and she's a "Mare" - a nightmare, presumably? I think there was one of those in Pact, in the interlude with the interview about master/familiar relationships. No clue what that shakes out as, theme-wise.

Big guy and winged woman are both Faeries, which I was not expecting. Winged woman is Maricica, of Dark Autumn, and big guy is Guilherme, of Summer Above. Those are presumably Courts? They sound pretentious enough. (Strange that they seem to get along, if so. Also, there's no mention of them being exiles - so why are they in nowheresville Kenneth?)

John (last name Stiles) is a "Dog of War." Gave Lucy bad vibes, but the other two seem less effected. Does he work for an Incarnation of War? (My gut says no, as that would be too similar to Conquest for Wildbow to want to retread that territory.) Is it a practice style, then? Conflict, battles, contests - victory and triumph feeding a ever-hungry fire? Magic war profiteering?

The singing kids are officially "The Hungry Choir," and they're a "Ritual Incarnate." Still no more details on their physical appearance, which makes me think it's not important - they're not zombies. All damage seems to be to the mouths and teeth, which would fit with them being "hungry." Are they like piranhas then, smelling blood and descending in a frenzy? The result of a successful ritual, or one interrupted, left unfinished?

Miss - unknown. Still the suspicion there is a red herring. Her unknown nature might indicate that she was around even before Matthew/Edith entered the scene?

Base on this information alone, my top suspects would be Guilherme (because Faeries suck, and he seems like he might be a Hunter) or John (if outsiders are drawn in by the murder, and bring conflict with them, he might stand to gain).

#Pale #Lost For Words 1.3

[marisramblings]

Here’s how I’d change The Owl House Finale(s)

(Because everyone cares what I think).

Thanks to Them

I actually like this episode for the most part. I think a slight reprieve from the previous season finale makes sense. I would focus more on developing Gus and Willow as characters. This would be a good time for Willow and Amity to truly talk and create a friendship outside of Luz.

King’s dad should start appearing periodically throughout the episode. Not visibly, but in little hints and glimpses to Luz. He’s trying to get them back home because they have the advantage of not being in the collector’s sights. He comes in her dreams, makes nudges to lead her and the squad to the remaining blood. Something along those lines.

We get a visual glimpse of the Wittebane backstory. Maybe Belos reminisces while possessing Hunter, during the hayride, and Hunter sees the flashback, confused and scared. Hell, for the Lunter shippers, when Hunter comes back to reality have the visage of Evelyn fade into Luz. Parallels ✨

I have no clue what to do with Vee. I love her though.

For the Future

This episode sucks.

King’s dad is still communicating with Luz

First, the Hexside detour should be completely removed.

The focus should be entirely on resolving the collector arc. Whether he’s a capricious cosmic entity or the equivalent of a child, end it here. There’s little time to delve into the archivists, so it can be skipped, I guess. We don’t know what the lore is so I can’t comment on if it could be condensed.

Willow, Amity, and Gus can still continue their arcs. Have Willow still crack and these two resolve it, not Hunter. Hunter doesn’t need to be with Luz but he needs focus on his new powers and discovering Caleb and Belos’ history. If there’s a connection between the Clawthorne’s and them, reveal it here, a little. Sprinkle a bit 🤏🏾

Belos is the devil on the collector’s ear. He sends them to fight Luz and Co. We get a battle which is Kikimora’s original + the games from Waking and Dreaming. We can even add Eda, Lilith, and King can go over to help. Regardless, our kids put up a fight and get thrashed.

At this point things seem grim. Depending on the characterization, the collector is gleeful over suffering or having a change of heart once he realizes his “games” are dangerous. Belos reappears, now reinvigorated/moss powered whatever, and kills the collector.

Waking and Dreaming

It can be here or the tail end of FtF, but Luz is killed by Belos trying to defend Hunter. This is not shipping fodder, I just think Belos really hates Caleb and by extension Hunter. There’s a lovely drama in him killing the parallel of his brother’s wife, if he didn’t kill her originally.

Now she’s in titan ville

We get the detailed and full version of the Wittebane story. If the Clawthorne’s are involved, bring it in. The titan wants Luz to know the full story so she can decide if she’s willing to kill Belos. We don’t get a handed down moral, but we see her earnestly think about this.

Meanwhile, Belos might let somethings slip about Hunter and Caleb. Everyone’s justifiably losing their shit and going ham. There’s no way they can beat him so they retreat.

Since the collector’s dead, everyone is freed from being dolls. Maybe bump brings everyone back to hexside and our group meets them there.

Belos is progressing slowly but he’s coming. This is the time for little character interactions like Amity and Boscha, Eda and her parents. Wrap up as much as possible swiftly. No high school politics.

Time doesn’t progress the same in the in between dimension. The titan and Luz talk. We truly close the collector’s arc. He explains what happened or gives a glimpse into their motives. There isn’t enough time to properly resolve it.

Luz talks about King

Eventually she agrees, gets her super awesome monster form.

Hexside peeps prepare for one final showdown. We have the coven heads including Raine, our main squad, the harpy sisters, and King and Hunter with their strange powers.

They fight and Luz returns

Battle, battle, battle. Little character interactions

Belos dies. I have mixed feeling on whether Hunter needs to confront him. So maybe he tells Belos to choke and Eda and Lilith stomp him out. It shouldn’t be played for laughs

The day is saved!…sigils are gone

Extended epilogue. Amity and Luz talk about things. Willow isn’t a sports player…wtf was that about?

Gus gets to travel the human realm or something besides being the same human club person.

If Hunter is carving palismen, can we learn why?

Eda being a teacher…is debatable at best. Raeda wedding though 😎

We see Luz finish out high school in the human realm while visiting the isles. There’s still the quinceañera.

I clearly didn’t hit every single detail of each episode. There are sections that are fine or not worth the effort to edit. I’m not a hardcore fan of any of the ships. I do like Lunter but I’m not going back to rewrite the whole show. My efforts are more focused on developing Amity as a character so the relationship feels more real. I do love my girls. Huntlow is not my thing. It feels hollow and a waste of Willow’s time.

These are my ideas for the finale episodes only. Some of these would be better if they started in earlier seasons but, like I said, I’m not here to rewrite the show. I hope it’s clear that my criticism come from a place of loving the show. Critical tags kind of annoy me because it seems to imply that this wouldn’t belong in the main tags. Opinions that aren’t attacking people should be able to stay in the main tags.

#mari’s rambles #tv review #the owl house #toh #toh season 3 #the owl house season finale #toh season 3 spoilers #luz noceda #edalyn clawthorne #king clawthorne #toh belos #hunter toh #amity blight #toh criticism #toh critical #the owl house criticism #the owl house critical

[momolady]

Monster Valentines: Part One

Want your own monster valentine, check out the info here.

Details wise just a slightly chubby guy looking for a beast like that from Disney movie (1991) if okay. If not a big orc with a love of reading.

Recently at work, you had been receiving letters and notes in your inbox. They were sweet and flirty, all from a secret admirer. The last one you received invited you out on a date. You were curious who was sending them and you constantly were watching people at work, hoping to spot the culprit. But so far, you had no clue.

The day of the date came, which was at a small bookstore and cafe near the park. It was one of your favorite places to go, so you were already impressed by what this secret admirer knew about you. As you walked in, you saw one of the cafe tables was set up with a bouquet of roses and a special tablecloth. 

Sitting at the table was a tall figure, his long fur pulled back away from his face. He stood from the table, a soft, nervous smile on his face. You recognized him, he worked in IT and had helped you set up your new computer when the old one broke. 

“Hello,” he said, smoothing down his nice shirt. 

“Hi,” you replied breathlessly. 

His toothy smile showed his sharp fangs and a lose curl came down from his neatly coiffed style. He then moved, offering you a chair and pulling it out. “I thought we could have a nice coffee, chat a bit, then maybe move on to a bigger date.”

You smiled at him over the roses. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Hello Miss Momo! I'd like the Build A Monster option please. I'm a short ambivert weirdo with curly hair, dark eyes and freckles. My hobbies are drawing and exploring. My fave things are true crime and forests. My faves of yours are Mask the Killer and Sin the tentacle plant.

The Pinewood Demon

For years, residents of the Pinewood area have been reporting sights of a creature in the area. Usually, it is sighted by campers who are enjoying the Pinewood Forest’s large campsite. The creature is said to be over seven feet tall, with glowing red eyes, and a body that looks to be made of woody vines or soft wood twisted around to look like cords making up the body. It is also said he is covered in vines and dark moss, and is often carrying a large blunt instrument in his hand. The Pinewood Demon seems to have a strong dislike of hunters, as most that have been reported missing in the Pinewood Forest are just in fact that, hunters. It is said if you offer items to the Pinewood Demon in a sign of peace, he will leave your campsite alone. The massive creature is said to like potatoes, berries, and occasionally a toy or two. Hikers who have gotten lost said that upon offering something for help, the Pinewood Demon often helps them find the correct path home. So is this creature friend or foe? Demon or guardian?

Hi Momo! I'm interested in a blind date! I'm a chubby 5'4 Mexican American from WNC, nonbinary (she/they), who is kinda witchy, brews beer for a living and loves to drink it too, loves the fine arts (painting, sketching), reading, playing relaxing farming sim games, loves dogs

Every so often you went into the woods, which was in any given direction where you lived. It didn’t matter what directions you went, it was the intent that showed you to your desired destination. You brought a small parcel with you, a sampling of the beers you made. But these were a special brew, ones you made just for this Red Riding Hood like journeys into the tall ambling woods of the Appalachia. 

Eventually you come upon the path you seek, following it as it winds, becomes covered in shining pebbles, and small flickering lanterns light your way. A low fog surrounds you and the flickering lights glow brighter, showing you through the smokey mist.

The path leads to an old gate, one you have traveled through many times before. The latch is worn and old, it takes merely a push to step into the bounds of the property you seek. The large house is always the same, though sometimes the placement of the windows is different. Sometimes they are stained glass, sometimes they are wide open and billowy curtains ripple in tune to your breathing. But the house itself, stately yet twisted, remains the same.

The mist lightly clears, showing your way to the front door, which opens without you even knocking. Inside the place is dark, save for a few lit candles. Looking around, you see the old hound dog resting in the bare space at the foot of the stares. He doesn’t lift his head, but his tail does begin wagging as you step inside. 

There’s a haze about the place, one that hangs upon the rafters of the ceiling, wafting as you walk down the hallway. The incense scent reminds you of old woods and childhood packages. Inside the next room there is a large couch with lots of pillows, and a strange man laid upon it. His long hair drapes down over his face and shoulders, which he pushes back as you step into the room. A crooked smile adorns his face, alighting his bright yellow eyes.

“You’ve come back,” he holds out of hand of long, thin fingers, beckoning you to come closer. His skin is dark, a sort of blueish garnet shade, his nails are painted dark red. Coiled horns jut out from his temples, curling towards the ceiling and catching the haze. 

“I thought it was time.” You held up the parcel to him, placing it in his hand.

He sat up from his lounged position and opened the brown paper. “Lets see what you;ve got for me this time.” He pulled out one of the bottles, looking over the hand written label. “A pumpkin ale? Isn’t this out of season?”

“I had some left over,” you said with a smirk.

He took out another bottle. “Chocolate brew, much more in season.” He took out another bottle. “Winter crisp,” his eyes flicked to you. “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s crisp and it’s winter.”

“Smart mouth,” he laughed and went back to rummaging through the bag. He pulled out the last bottle. “Demon’s Draught? For me?”

“Smart mouthed, remember?” You said, letting your smile grow.

The demon slinked from the couch and held his hand out to you. You took it, letting those long fingers curl around your palm. He tugged your hand forward, kissing your knuckles with a smirk upon his lips.

“I have the meal prepared already. I’ve been waiting on you.”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “That’s why I am here, Switch.”

#exophilia #momolady monsters

[gothamslostboy]

The Lost Boys

Favorite Colors

David

Black obviously

But he also enjoys a good forest green

The kind of guys who wants all of something when he likes it hence the full body outfit

At some point he dyed his hair black

Never did it again bc max said he liked it

Used to wear a forest green leaf lapel

Paul

Loves blue

Baby blue is his favorite

He wanted to make his jacket baby blue but didn’t want to look that different to the other boys

Sometimes he’ll wear a blue crop top though

Stole Gave laddie blue blankets when he first turned bc he was crying and blue makes Paul feel better

Marko

Like a jungle green

If he wants to feel smart he tells future victims it’s hunter green to see if they can pick up on his clues

They never do

In his human life his walls were painted green and it’s one of the only things he remembers about his house

Painted designs on one of the cave walls in green

He steals buys patches with a lot of green on them to save

He doesn’t use them most of the time

He thinks they need to be for something really good

Only time he ever used some was for his jacket

Dwayne

Likes black a lot & only Moss green beats it

It reminds him of the rocks from when in his human life he and his little sister would go to a river and play until the sun set

Sometimes if he takes laddie to the nearby river and scrapes moss to take home

Tells laddie how to identify the different bugs, fish, and animals around the river

Laddie

He wants to be like as many of his big brothers as possible so it’s green

Tends to go towards the lighter shades though

Lucy buys him a pale green teddy bear his first birthday after everything is over and he loves it

Named it D bc he was missing Dwayne that day

Star

Surprisingly it’s black

She just doesn’t like how it looks on her

Even though she’s stunning in it

Her second favorite is wisteria purple

Michael

He has 2 favorite colors

Wine red

Ocean blue

When he was 5 he got upset when he had to wear anything that wasn’t these colors, neutrals, black, or white

He and star probably name 2 daughters Wisteria & Ocean (fuck the sequels I don’t like em)

Lucy makes jokes with him about how she may be a hippie, but at least she didn’t go through with the names

Lucy

She’s a simple gal who loves pastel pink

It was her first and only favorite color

If she had a daughter she would name her Rose bc it reminders her of pink

Almost got to name Sam Jared but her ex refused when he learned it meant pink in Hebrew

Please someone give her a bouquet of pink roses she deserves it

Sam

He gives yellow vibes

I have no idea why but it’s yellow

Specifically sunflower yellow

Had a yellow stuffed dog he slept with every night until he was 12

Started sleeping w/ it again bc of nightmares after the attack on the house

He wouldn’t admit it but he really likes Marko’s jacket

Was half tempted to go back to the cave and look for it but chickened out

Edgar

He’d say some dumb shit like the blood of vampires

Last time I checked though vampire blood isn’t royal purple

His sheets are purple

Weirdly embarrassed about it?????

Alan uses this to get him to do his chores

“If you do the dishes I won’t tell Sam you wear lavender sleep pants”

Alan

Turquoise

If you ask he says teal but that’s just bc he can’t remember the difference

Buys people gifts and wraps it in turquoise wrapping paper bc he thinks it’s good luck

Somehow he’s gathered a large collection of turquoise socks

Will keep comics with a lot of turquoise on the cover even if he doesn’t like the book itself

Max

Blood red

He just says red if you ask bc he doesn’t want there to be any clues of his vampirism

Bought Thorn a red collar even though he barely uses it

Grandpa Emerson

Yellow

He doesn’t really care about specifics but Amber yellow always catches his eye

He got happy when he learned Sam also likes yellow bc barely anyone else he knows does

Buys Sam a yellow TV for his 16th birthday even though it just ended up in the living room

It reminds his of him wife & Lucy bc they were always so happy

He also likes orange a lot bc it reminds him of Lucy

#tlb 1987 #tlb #the lost boys paul #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys #the lost boys sam #glb tlb #the lost boys max #the lost boys star #the lost boys david #the lost boys hc #the lost boys 1987

[cryptidwritings]

Dark Water

Chapter 44 : The Liar

prev | next | masterlist

cw: forced to hurt, self sacrifice, restraints, mention of blood, two POV's.

a/n: I don't have the usual pngs with me, so take some dots as separators today :) sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it!

...

A cracking boom shook the ground, and Moss’ eyes snapped open, catching the tail-end of the rumble and a bright flash of light, followed by a clatter of drops on the roof. He relaxed with a sigh, then pulled the covers on top of him.

Wait. His eyes opened again. He was in a bedroom; the single bed where he lay was shoved into the corner. A trunk was in the other corner, opposite the door where the light of a fire flickered underneath; interrupted by a small shadow rocking back and forth with a groaning creak.

Moss sat up, sucking in a breath as his leg pulsed and twitched. On reflex, he bent his knee, registering the clink of metal, and something heavy around his ankle. He flipped the blanket off of him. A cuff with a few feet of chain length was now around his left ankle, the other end attached to a bed spoke. He could feel the slight tug of a clean dressing over his wound, and his jaw clenched, hating that he was grateful for it.

He froze as a shadow appeared under the door with quiet steps. It turned slowly, then opened, and Moss lowered his head as Reid stepped inside.

“Terrible storm tonight, might not pass for a few days.”

The memories were catching up.

“Where am I?” He finally asked.

“My home,” Reid answered from another room. Then he returned, and pushed a bowl to Moss.

It was soup; spicy, warm, and watery. It filled his belly, though. The chunks were some sort of fish he had never tasted. Reid watched him gulp it down, then wipe his chin with his sleeve as he offered the bowl back.

“Ye want another? There’s plenty.”

“Yes,” he looked up and hastily added, “please.”

While Reid served another bowl, Moss could hear a distant thump, like an untethered window shade. Then, the bowl was there again,

Reid leaned on the door jamb. “Caught a catfish the size of my arm,” he smiled, his gaze hitting the back wall as the thumps finally died down, “guess they liked the bait.”

Moss paused, mid-slurp, taking in Reid’s subtle smile. He gulped, then rest the half-full bowl on his lap.

Reid’s eyebrow raised. “Ye look worried.”

Waking up chained to a bed, no matter how much more comfortable than the floor, was more alarming than the howling wind and thunder. Moss reasoned that if he had went to sleep in a cell, then it only made sense that Isidro was somewhere worse.

“I want to know where he is.” Moss spoke softly.

“Why?” Reid took a deep breath, looking down as he massaged the back of his neck. “He wasn’t concerned for ye when he lied about being a sailor, now did he?”

Moss took another slurp of the soup, recalling Isidro’s attempted confession. “Where is he?”

“He’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked-” Moss flinched as Reid’s fist hit the wall.

“It’s the answer ye get!” Reid straightened his back. “Ye not in a position to be demanding anything, savvy?!”

“I’m not demanding. I’m not,” Moss shrunk as Reid approached. “I just- I want to know where he is.”

Reid stared down at him. “Are ye sure that’s all ye want to know? Ye aren’t curious about anything else?”

Moss’ averted his eyes. “No. Why would I be?”

The pirate stopped moving, then took a breath. “Oh, lad. Ye naive son of a gun.”

Moss’ jaw clenched.

“Ye don’t know what he is, do ye? Not even a clue?”

“I...I don’t care.”

Reid backed off his stare. “Well, I think it’s about time ye do.”

...

The pirate exit his house, mumbling, “damn stupid sod, making me come out here in the rain.”

He stomped his way through the mud and towards the cell where Isidro was huddled, pressed into the corner with his arms bent. The sight of what remained of his shivering hand, adorned with his bloodied shirt, was something to behold.

Ried grabbed his blade, and slapped the bars, yelling through the whistling wind. “Up!”

Isidro raised his head, blinking away the water cascading down his face. When he saw Reid, his body twitched like a cornered animal— too hurt to commit to running away. The pirate opened the cell door and dragged him out by the pant leg. He was heavier than Moss, but the change in weight from when he had lift him onto the back of his horse was obvious. He could push him around easily, now. It would only be a matter of time before he was just skin and bones; wasting away to nothing.

When he pulled Isidro toward the table again, the man screamed and jostled around, holding his hands close to his center in protection.

“Shut up! I don’t want ye finger!” Reid yelled, pulling a set of cuffs from the wall before straddling the sailor. He seemed to get the picture; falling still as Reid squeezed a cuff around his left wrist, encasing the edge of the shirt underneath, then stabbed his knife through the knot. The bloodied rope fell, and Reid shoved him to his stomach where he made quick work of the other cuff behind his back.

He grabbed the man’s biceps and pulled him to standing, noticing angry welts criss-crossing scars and tattoos. The sailor’s muscles folded with the strain of his shoulders as Reid pulled him along.

“Ye friend wants to see ye. Behave and I won’t take it with him watching, savvy?” He shoved Isidro forward, smiling as he stumbled down the stairs, then picked him up from the mud.

...

Not a minute later and Reid returned, dragging with him a sopping wet and shivering sailor. His brown hair was water-logged and dripping, sticking to his head over his eyes and all the way down to the nape of his neck where Reid’s hand shoved him into the room.

He shivered violently, looking around the room in a haze. Moss scrambled to toss the blanket to him.

“You had him out there in this?” Moss stared daggers at the pirate as Reid kicked the blanket away.

Reid ignored him, shaking Isidro. “Tell him who ye are.” He snapped.

When Isidro didn’t immediately comply, Reid swept at the back of his knees and folded him to the floor.

“O-okay! Okay...” Isidro’s breath shook. “M-Moss...I-” he swallowed, and closed his eyes, “I’m an assassin for-mmf!” he panted, “for the C-Cathal.”

Moss listened to the low timbre of Isidro's voice.

“An assassin?'” Moss questioned, softly, “with shit aim?”

“I’m an assassin, not a ma-marksman.”

Moss chuckled. “This is stupid. What kind of assassin isn’t a marksman?”

Isidro went quiet. His eyes hallowed out, then were brought back in a click as he again focused on Moss.

“That’s n-ot the point... listen-.”

“Why are you lying?”

“I'm not lying!” Isidro’s voice cracked with desperation as he jostled and sat up a bit more. Water dripped onto the floor. Moss stared at him; trying to figure out what was going on.

He sighed. “If that’s true, then why are you here?”

“To kill someone, obviously. Idiot,” Reid shook Isidro again. He responded with a groan. “Tell the lad why he's here.”

Isidro bit his tongue. The silence was as thick as the rain.

Moss watched the sailor—or whatever he was. It didn't take much for Moss to see the way Isidro’s shoulders slumped, or to hear the way his lungs wheezed and how his voice was stuffed up with blood. He was in pain, and yet he was staring back; his eyes shifting as if weighing the words.

“What is he talking about?”

Isidro shivered again. “I... had to...”

Moss’ brows stitched together. “What?”

“I had to save you.”

“Save me from what?” The question bit.

“Y-you asked me,” Isidro muttered. “You asked me why they’d waste the time to stitch you up, aye? They wouldn’t... not unless they wanted you.”

Moss shook his head, then chuckled. “Wanted me-? They accused me of being a spy.”

“A lie,” His voice wavered. “I knew... the m-moment Jacobsen called you out on deck. I saw the look in his eye. He wanted you, but first he had to hear you. How you beg and how you s-scream, what makes you angry... and what would make you spill your guts.”

“Reiss shot me.”

“I know. Reiss lost control,” Isidro looked at Moss, his eyebrows up in distress. “I tried to stop them-”

“Ha!” Moss leaned back as if laughing with contempt to the sky, “You’re the one who handed me over!”

The silence stretched.

“I... I ha-had to.”

Moss’ jaw clenched. “So none of this is your fault? You just had to?”

“I was trying to tell you before-”

“-and what good would it have done?!” Moss stood on his right leg, the chain rattled from his left, tethering him to the bed as his gut wrenched. "Why didn’t you just leave me!” He growled. “I've been surviving my whole life for nothing. At least then I'd be someone!”

“You'd be a ghost!” Isidro’s breath caught in the effort. “Yo-you were accused of being a spy on a g-overnment ship. There's a trial at sea, you're found guilty and sen-tenced to death. Mmf!” he took a breath and repositioned, “You become who they need, you do what they want, they plan it, they g-et you out!” he took a shaky breath, “until they don't.”

“Fine!” Moss threw his hands up. He rubbed his head, then froze with realization before looking at Isidro again. “They were going to kill you, weren’t they?”

Isidro's face fell, then he shook his head. Moss’ blood boiled up his chest.

“Really? Then why haven’t you killed him?!” Moss pointed to Reid. “Why haven’t you done anything to help us get out!”

The answer came as a whimper. “My family...”

Moss rolled his eyes, “Spare me.”

“They’re all I have, Moss!”

“Only a coward would use that as an excuse!"

Isidro’s lips curled as he looked up. “You don’t understand because you hate yours!”

The insult rung out. Moss squint his eyes, “what?”

“You heard me.”

Reid began to laugh, and pushed Isidro’s head down again until it kissed the floor. Moss’ eye was trained on the man while his own hands balled into tight fists as his chest rose and fell with the huff of his angry breath.

He could feel the reverb of Reid’s deep chuckle fall over his skin, breaking up Isidro’s whimper’s of pain as a red-stained cloth rose over the curve of his scarred back.

“Ye see, lad?” Reid looked down at Isidro, “what did I tell ye? He’s not worth the mud on ye feet.”

Moss’ mind was reeling, barely latching on to Reid’s words, until:

“I’ll make ye a deal,” Reid smiled as Moss looked at him, “I’ll let ye have free run of the place, if ye don’t try to run again.”

The lad scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I swear it,” Reid held up a hand, “on my brother’s grave, savvy? I swear.”

Moss grit his teeth. “What do you want?”

The gold teeth glimmered again as Reid stood, shoving Isidro recklessly to the ground in the center of them both.

“Beat him.”

“What? No... I can’t.”

“-of course you can’t,” Isidro said from the ground. He grunt as he got to his knees, and his bare foot slapped at the wooden floor. “You have to keep pretending, aye?” He pant, his face flushed as he stood.

“You want to call me a coward? Well the sad lad story won’t fool me!” He stepped forward, his teeth barred, catching Moss off-guard as he lowered his voice, “there’s something wrong in your head, isn’t there, Moss?”

Moss’ brow twitched.

Isidro took another step, stuttering a bit on the approach before he caught himself. The rattle of his chain followed his uneven gait until he was a few inches from Moss’ face.

“I was wrong before. To hate would mean you could feel anything at all. That’s why I had to explain it to you, isn’t it?” His face twisted in cruelty, “You can’t care for anyone but yourself. Is that why you ran? No one could love a selfish little brat?!”

Moss screamed as he tackled Isidro to the ground. The man landed on his back with a thud. He shrieked, craning his head back in anguish as the veins in his neck darkened.

“D-do it then!” Isidro growled as tears filled his eyes, “Do it you pathetic piece of SHIT! HIT ME! HIT-!"

Isidro’s face whipped to one side, then the other, his goading drowned in screams of pain when Moss’ fist connected to his left temple. His body twisted away, shoulders moving as if to try and shield himself. On the third strike is when Moss stopped, feeling a tightness in his chest that made him want to puke.

He scrambled away, pressing himself to the foot of the bed as Isidro rolled to his right side with a cough that sprayed dots of red onto the floor.

Moss’ whole body shook, staring at the singular, unfocused, orb in the man’s head before Reid dragged him out with a laugh.

“Deal’s a deal!” the pirate cackled. “I’ll be back.”

...

taglist: @sparrowsage @kixngiggles @honey-is-mesi @annablogsposts

#pirate whump #whump series #tw self sacrifice #forced to hurt #two whumpees #tw betrayal #tw blood mention #whump writing #dark water by jovi

[ventrue-in-control]

Think this may be relevantto your interests but apologies if it is one you already know! Natural dyes that do not require any additional substance to adhere tto the fibers of clothing are called substantive dyes !! Those requiring some thing added to them to stick are called mordant dyes! The mordant is what chemical is used to adhere the dye to the fibers a nd so what color you end with may depend on both the dye itself and your mordant used. An important distinction for color coherency.

I did infact know this~ But the dash likely didnt. so its good education either way!

I will be honest though tolya. I have no clue what you wear clothing wise. in my head. ure just naked in the woods like a creature. but if u showed up in a tiny box I would likely dress u up in something like this:

Which I think is mushroomy vibes. I dont know why. but it feels very rot and decay and moss and forest floor but fashion.

However you also have something much more. none human about you. so u also get some absolutely weird shape shit cuz I like that and itd look horrifyingly interesting on u

#qna #d-d-disgusting

[suddence]

08.07.2023 - Part 3 Again

Whoa hello! The other day I updated about being halfway through Part 3: Leave No Trace. Well, now I’m here to report that it’s done!

Stats! Part 3 is 17302 words long. Altogether, I’ve edited 40091 words of 53678. That’s 75% woop woop! AND! The total count has gone up about 3k words since the last update.

The seemingly huge increase in total word count is due to the fact a lot of details were glossed over in the previous draft (as I’ve said before, my goal was to finish the draft, so as long as I got the gist of the story across, I was okay with messiness).

The second half of Part 3 sees Dany and co. finally travelling to Suddence! But what will they find there? Certainly not what they were expecting......

Meanwhile (or I guess, in the past), Dany and Marisa take refuge in a school that’s under construction. Marisa is super sick, and Dany, who has spent their whole life being cared for by Marisa, is now in the caretaker role. But Dany is only eleven, so understandably, they are having a real hard time with the...everything.

The biggest thing that I changed is the last chapter. Originally it ends with this bombastic car crash, but I never really liked it, and I couldn’t make it make sense. Today though, while eating lunch, I thought of an alternative that works WAYYYY better. It’ll only require very minor tweaking in the rest of the story.

One thing I added is having Dany mourn the life they will never have. Dany spends a lot of time cooped up in motels watching TV about teenagers in school (Glee and High School Musical are vaguely mentioned 👀) so they’ve worked up this idea that going to high school must be so fun! So dramatic! So interesting! And you get to dissect frogs?? It’s been their goal that once this is all over, they’ll finally get to go to school and experience what they’ve only seen on TV. But in this part of the story, Dany is slowly coming to terms with the fact that, no, it is very unlikely this will be over soon, and they have to (very reluctantly) stamp out their hope for this future :^(

I’ve always liked to keep a level of vagueness in this story. What is Dany’s real name? What gender is Dany? (NONE OF YOUR BEESWAX) Where and when does this story take place? I’ve left a few clues here and there about the location, mentioning provinces instead of states, but for time, I didn’t really keep a specific year in mind. BUT in this draft, I decided to figure that out just for myself, and I DID decide on a year, and I DID make sure all the info dropped in the story is consistent with it. I think it would be fun for future readers to figure it out :^)

Part 4 is the lead-up to the climax!

And nowwwww here’s the excerpt! Transcript under the link.

THE ROAD TO SUDDENCE begins with a gate.

It’s so unimpressive that we drove right past it before rounding back. Aaron said he thought it was a maintenance side road. I can’t blame him. It really does look like one, the gate low and old and covered in rust and some kind of moss. It doesn’t help that the yellow sign on it says Authorized Access Only.

“You sure this is it?” Aaron says.

“Well,” Zahira says. “It says on the map.”

I stare up the road. We’ve been rumbling down a country road for the last thirty minutes. It’s so rural that there aren’t any streetlamps, and the big evergreen trees and the cracked asphalt only made the journey even creepier.

The road leading up to Suddence doesn’t ease up on the creep. It’s much narrower than the country road, and grass is growing through the pavement, and the trees are bending over it like they want to swallow it alive.

#suddence #writeblr #writing update

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Okay, this might get a bit long~

Honestly, i find it soooo adorable to have wr!jisung in a sunshine x grumpy with a transwoman 🥺🥺🥺 i will very much read it, for sure!!! I love how you write with inclusivity so much huhu

I think it will definitely be something new since i’ve never read something with a trans s/o just cuz i feel like a lot of them feels meh in representing them properly. They’re definitely women. 😤 

Truthfully, the only writing of yours that i felt a sort of prejudice to might be Of Apples And Moss Beds, since i’m not into polygamy and open relationships BUT i did read it. I think you wrote it sooo well too. The only reason why I haven’t said anything about it is because I feel like I still haven’t read it without my own bias against the topic making it look bad when it’s actually really nice. I looove your storytelling so reading thru that was so eye-opening in a way since it’s new to me. And it all made sense too. It wasn’t forced or awkward, and it was reaally really sweet to have them find each other.

Bringing it back to jisung, i’m definitely down to see his story evolve!! Everyone deserves to love and to be loved, so i’m excited to see who he finds for himself. ALSO IMAGINE GRUMPY READER BEING, LIKE, tsundere kinda taking care of this hyperactive jisung 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 jisung just giggling cuz he kNOWS that she/they like like him 😩

Again, no pressure to write it anytime too soon! Just letting you know that i’ll definitely be with 🥝 in waiting for that (or any) installment.

Side note also on how I actually love that kitten has two dads and, soon, seungmin’s s/o has two moms hehe. Looking forward to what your brain lizard has for seungmin tooo!!

As always, hugs for u, Raven, and anons!!! Hope you have a nice day/night!

ps. I think i forgot to reply to the last Raven pic but,, wHAT DID THE NACHIMBONG DO TO HER 😭

~🍓

totally understand the situation with "Of Apples and Moss Beds", i personally am also very monogamous, so it was a personal challenge to write it in a way that felt like it was something written by me, you know what i mean? glad you still gave it a shot and that you thought i wrote it well, though (:

when it comes to jisung and his s/o... i'm honestly excited to develop their dynamic.i hope it goes well sdjkfhskdjf will definitely try my best to do it decently! our boy deserves all the love in the world 😭

also, no clue why Raven was looking at the nachimbong like that SDJKFHSDJKF maybe it was because i was spinning it right before taking the picture lmao

thank you for your kind words, dear. they're certainly very encouraging~

#🍓 anon #ask #wereroomies ask

[burnwater13]

The more Grogu learned about Moff Gideon, the more he disliked the obviously power damaged Darth Vader wannabe. Yes, he was a war lord. That all by itself said ‘power damaged’. Who in their right mind wanted to be a lord of war? Not Grogu, that was for sure. 

Grogu also knew that Moff Gideon had an important role in the ISB. The same ISB that had worked pretty hard to destroy Mandalore, among other places. Just on that basis he felt very comfortable disliking the man dressed in black. Now he was saying, the Moff that is, that he knew everything. Ha!

That’s right. Ha! Grogu didn’t believe that for an instant. It was clear that the Moff had never known a kind a gesture, the voice of love, or a the satisfaction of helping someone other than himself. ‘Assume I know everything’. Ha!

Master Obi-Wan said that assuming a thing was a trick you played on yourself. You didn’t know a thing until you knew a thing. There were no short cuts. You had to do the work. It seemed pretty clear that Moff Gideon wanted people to trick themselves and to his advantage. Nope! Not gonna happen.

Peli Motto said that when you assume something ‘You make an ass out of you and me’. Grogu didn’t really understand that one but he agreed with Peli that people should never assume that she couldn’t draw to an Idiot’s Array any time she needed one playing Sabacc.

Grogu had laughed at that. He knew she was right. He’d watched her play a lot of Sabacc and the only person who ever beat her at the game happened to be small, green, and without credits. They played for dung worms. Grogu always won those games. 

Which is what Grogu was pretty sure that Moff Gideon had been trying to do. He wanted to trick people into letting him win the game before they even started playing it. And his statement was really a statement of fact in away. Assume he knew everything because what he did or didn’t know, didn’t matter. He was always going to cheat. He was never going to keep his word. He hadn’t gone to the trouble of accumulating power to let it sit around doing nothing. Nope. Not him. 

This lead Grogu to believe that the true statement about Moff Gideon was that as a person he had no honor, no loyalty, and no clue how to do the work that needed to be done. That’s why he had to trick you into defeating yourself. 

It made Grogu mad to think how the Moff had tricked him into wearing himself out playing ‘whack a stormtrooper’. He should have just been sitting there, meditating, biding his time, waiting for his best friend and dad to come get him. Din Djarin was never going to let someone as fake as Moff Gideon keep Grogu away from him. 

“A friendly piece of advice…” Ha!

Moff Gideon wouldn’t know a friend if they tripped over his cape and blew up the enemy’s ship by accident. He’d be too busy griping about that friend getting dirt on his cape and pulling it a tiny bit out of alignment. In this case those words translated to “I am threatening you and you should feel threatened because I said so.”

Grogu was unimpressed, even though he was still pretty angry. He knew all those war lords and Sith wannabes operated on the mystery is better than reality as a framing construct for threatening people. Make people come up with their own fears because as greedy fools, the war lords had no imagination and couldn’t think of what really might bug a person. 

Grogu almost wished that he’d practiced his Gal Basic more. He knew that the Moff was a proud man who wanted everyone to fear him. That’s why he just ended people willy nilly. To make the rest of his own people fear him more. But once you were doing that, what more could you do to them? It just incentivized your own people to avoid you. 

Grogu wished he could have tricked the stormtroopers into calling him “Moss Giddy-up”. He was pretty sure that sounded very funny in Gal Basic and as soon as people started laughing they’d share that over and over and Mr. Assume I know Everything would learn someone that he hadn’t known before. Laughing with you and laughing at you were not the same. Grogu was pretty sure that the boastful war lord would not like being laughed at.

Ha!

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #Moff Gideon