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nerdraging4point0 · 1 year ago

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Mad Hearts and Temptations // Chapter One //

Wonderland Romance AU. Mad Hatter Noah

by @ladyveronikawrites

Tropes and Tags: Wonderland romance, instalove, too much sex, destiny, fated lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. dark themes, gore themes, gothic themes, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, angst.

Taglist (click to be added):

@cookiesupplier @badomensls @concreteemo @mysticdoodlez @viofcrows @srorgana1 @in-another-life @broken0mens @itsafullmoon @ladyveronikawrites @somewhere-diamond @celestineveil @meliferafaerie @poisongirl616 @littlefoxkota @darling-millicent-aubrey @th0ughts-pr4yers @silentglassbreak @shilohrosechicken @hayleylatour @sundamariis @lma1986 @thatchickwiththecamera @lilhobgobbler @missduffsblog @asilentsiren @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @latenightmusiclover

The work below contains fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

My heart pounds as I sprint down the endless corridor, the dizzying checkered tiles seeming to swirl beneath my feet and tilt the walls at odd angles. Doors of all shapes and sizes line the hall - some tall as giants that I can't even reach the knobs of, others no bigger than mouseholes, just large enough to slide my hand through. I rush past them desperately, knowing exactly which one I seek. The same door I always seek, the one that will lead me out of this maddening maze. It's made of dark, worn wood, the brass of its hinges tarnished with age, its yawning keyhole gaping open like a mouth, just waiting to swallow the right key. As I race toward that familiar door, freedom seeming so close I can taste it, her voice echoes through the empty passageway, stopping me dead in my tracks. The voice I know so well, now twisted with bitterness as she calls out, "It was supposed to be you."

It’s been the same dream since I was a kid, ever since my cousin Alice came to stay with us that fateful summer. I never liked my cousin Alice. To be honest, I never really knew her, but after her brief visit with my family, I begged my mom to never invite her again. She was always greedy and whined incessantly about everything. She would snatch my toys without asking and hide them around the house, intentionally breaking things and then blaming me for the damage. I still vividly remember that evening after dinner when we were supposed to play hide and seek outside.

Alice hid herself so well that night that I eventually gave up looking for her as the sun began to set and the sky faded to a pale blue. I was playing alone on the front lawn when Alice suddenly emerged from the shadows. Her Mary Jane shoes were scuffed and filthy, her dress was stained and disheveled, and her normally tidy blonde curls were matted and caked with some type of dark, viscous fluid. Her fingernails were also covered in what appeared to be red paint. She looked completely deranged and insane. Her eyes were bulging out of her skull as she stared directly at me and uttered in a haunting tone: "It was supposed to be you." Even now, years later, that bizarre encounter is seared into my memory, and Alice's crazed voice still appears in my nightmares.

My cousin had always been troubled, even when we were young. There was a darkness in her that I didn't understand, a swirling chaos behind her eyes that frightened me. As we grew older, her mental state deteriorated. She became unpredictable, prone to violent outbursts and deranged ranting. My family did their best to help her, but it was no use. The day she was finally taken away, restrained and sedated, came almost as a relief. I felt guilty for feeling that way, but I could not deny the lightness in my chest when I knew I wouldn't have to face her manic presence anymore.

That relief was short-lived. Though she was gone from my daily life, her memory continued to torment my dreams. I would find myself wandering endless hallways, hearing her sing-song voice taunting me from the shadows. Her eyes would appear around corners - wild, darting, devoid of reason. No matter how far I ran, she was always there. I would wake with a start, heart pounding, soaked in sweat. Sometimes I awoke screaming.

It's been years now since I left that house, since I got away from the ghost of my cousin. But still she haunts me. In the dead of night she comes creeping back, seeping into my subconscious to wreak havoc in my dreams. I wake gasping for breath, blinking into the darkness. I check the time on my phone - 4am again.

I don't bother with more sleep, tossing the blankets off my body as I stumble my way out of the bed to the bathroom. The light blinds me momentarily before my eyes adjust, taking in my sleepy form in the mirror. My amber locks are braided and resting over my shoulder, with some strands falling out of the tight coils I made the night before. The silver ring in my left nostril catches the light, as does my septum piercing and medusa lip ring, sparkling briefly as I groggily search the messy vanity for my toothpaste.

My fingers fumble over tubes and bottles, knocking a few things aside before finally grasping the minty toothpaste. I pop open the cap and squeeze some onto my toothbrush, the sharp mint helping to wake me up slightly as I begin scrubbing the night's sleep from my mouth. My eyes are still bleary, barely open as I brush and rinse.

As the fog of sleep lifts, I mentally revisit the bizarre dreamscape that moments ago had felt so real and tangible. The stark black and white checkerboard floor spins dizzily beneath me, its sharp diamond tiles swirling together into a dizzying optical illusion. All around me are doors - doors of every shape and size imaginable. Circular portals, square wooden doors, even sideways slanted doors that defy logic and gravity. Most peculiar of all is a breathing door that slowly inhales and exhales, its wooden surface magically undulating in and out of the wall itself. Of course, in the rational light of wakefulness, such an animate door seems patently absurd. But in the illogical realm of dreams, where the mind is unbounded by natural laws, anything is possible.

I walk down the narrowing hallway, the walls seem to close in around me, making the space tighter and more claustrophobic with each step. Ahead is a door that has become very familiar to me, though I've never entered it. I can't help feeling a sense of belonging when I see the door, like it is a lost part of me I'm destined to reclaim. The door itself is quite elegant, despite the dilapidated state of the hallway around it. It has a shiny brass doorknob and ornate brass hinges that gleam like gold in the dim light. The dark wooden door contrasts with the cracked and weathered plaster walls, standing out like a jewel in a dusty setting.

When I reach my hand out to open it at last, I am filled with longing and excitement to see what awaits on the other side. But each time, just before I turn the knob, a chilling, disembodied voice whispers, "It was supposed to be you," and I am shocked awake from the recurring dream.

I spit out the foamy residue, watching the minty bubbles swirl down the drain as I turn the faucet off with a squeak. My studio apartment descends into silence, the calm only broken by the ticking of the clock on the wall. While the confined space may seem claustrophobic to some, to me it's cozy - a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. After growing up in a sprawling suburban home cluttered with dusty tchotchkes and my parents' eclectic art collection, I find comfort in the simplicity of my minimalist apartment. I don't need much - just a bed, a couch, and a small kitchen. The lack of clutter soothes my mind. I enjoy the openness, how there's no visual noise competing for my attention. The blank walls and empty surfaces allow me to think clearly and focus on what's important.

The stillness of the air is broken only by the faint murmur of my name emanating from an unseen presence. At first I strain to make out the hushed utterance, unsure if it's real or just my imagination playing tricks. But the more I focus, the clearer the gentle tenor becomes, beckoning me from the shadows. Though no physical form manifests, I feel the voice resonate within my core, igniting a warmth and calm I've never known. My pulse quickens at the thought of this disembodied visitor serenading my spirit, his cherubic tones blanketing me in an otherworldly embrace. I dare not move or speak for fear of severing this ethereal connection. I close my eyes, bathing in the velvety notes that seem to stroke my soul, stirring sensations and emotions I can't articulate.

I shake it off.

Hearing voices was never a good sign. That’s how it all started with Alice, I was not Alice, I would never be like Alice.

Alice had been sent away years ago, but just a few months back I’d gone home to visit my parents and saw Alice’s sister and father over for a visit. They said something about how Alice was released and after several months back home she told them she no longer felt like they were family and she was going somewhere she belonged. At first, I was confused, Alice had always been close with her family when we were younger. However, it seems that after being sent away, something had changed within her. Her father's eyes seemed dull and defeated while her sister looked on the verge of tears as they explained how Alice had rejected them and renounced their family ties.

After their visit, my mother confided that Alice had stopped taking her psychiatric medications and severed all ties to society, essentially vanishing completely off the grid by her own choice. When I returned home I double bolted my locks, an unsettling fear in my chest that Alice was one day going to come back for me.

The dull repetition of my daily morning routine is painfully familiar. I mechanically go through the motions of getting ready - carefully applying just enough makeup to look presentable, loosely pulling my hair back into a ponytail, and throwing on whatever clean clothes I can find. I feel like I could get ready with my eyes closed at this point. Once dressed, I grab my oversized work bag and shuffle out the door of my tiny apartment building.

The refreshing spring air hits my face as I begin the brief five block walk to the coffee shop where I work. It's mid April, so the weather is finally warm enough that I don't need a heavy coat, but still cool enough that I'm not breaking a sweat on my short commute. The temperatures are perfect for walking. I breathe in the crisp morning air, taking in the sights and sounds of the city coming to life - birds chirping, early morning commuters hustling by.

The coffee shop is its typical whirlwind of activity in the middle of a hectic Wednesday workday, with customers streaming in and out grabbing their caffeine fix on the way to their next appointment. Behind the counter, I'm immersed in the controlled chaos - filling orders as fast as my hands can move, hearing the hypnotic hiss of steaming milk from the espresso machine competing with the insistent beeps of microwaves. Voices layered upon voices create a steady din that reaches all the way up to the exposed pipework ceilings. It's a symphony I know well after years in the food service industry.

As I go about my normal routine, filling orders and handing out drinks to the steady stream of patrons, I've become adept at tuning out the more eccentric customers that pass through. But today, as I prepare a lavender tea and call out the order, I find myself momentarily transfixed by the young woman who steps up to claim it. Her long, straight platinum hair cascades down her back like corn silk, with a few strands elegantly pulled up into neat buns on either side of her delicate face. Dressed in white high-waisted skinny jeans and beige heels, she cuts a stylish figure. But it's the antique pocket watch attached to her belt loop that catches my attention. As I hand over her tea, she tilts her head quizzically while consulting the watch, as if carefully calculating the passage of time. After a pause, she looks up, fixing me with an intense gaze.

"You're late," she says simply, causing me to stammer an apology before she turns abruptly, her long hair trailing behind her like a cape billowing in the wind.

I shuffle through the day, walking through the lobby to clean up the drinks people have rudely left on their tables. Wiping them down as I clean up. I pick up a paper cup about to throw away the half full liquid. But as I turn the paper cup in my hands, I see someone has written under the lid in sharpie the words, ‘Drink Me’. I bring the open mouthpiece to my nose taking a quick sniff. Lavender and Chamomile and something else-something spicy.

As I inhale the floral aroma rising from the mysterious concoction, I pause, transfixed by the cryptic message and alluring scent. Curiosity battles with apprehension as I contemplate the unknown contents. I toss the cup in the trash anyway, wiping down the last of the tables before heading behind the bar again.

Typically, I thrive on the pace and the social interaction with customers and coworkers alike, but today the commotion is too much. The constant demands have drained my mental energy. I feel the weight of exhaustion seeping into my bones.

As soon as the clock hits the end of my shift, I make a beeline for the door into the blissful quiet of the outside world. Wolfing down a quick lunch, I start the familiar walk home, already dreaming of my cozy bed. By the time I've unlocked my apartment door and stepped inside, I can barely keep my eyes open. I don't even bother changing clothes before I collapse onto the mattress, surrendering instantly to a deep sleep.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #wonderland!au #alice in wonderland retelling #bad omens smut #bad omens au #wonderland!omens #madhatter!noah #twisted wonderland #mad hearts and temptations

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wordsmithic · 6 months ago

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Greek words for Magic – Part 2

Please note that the full and/or root words mentioned here, like most Greek words, are still in use since antiquity. As a Greek speaker, I love sharing my interesting language with people like you! ღ

1. φίλτρο (fíltro, n)

Lit. "Filter". It means "magic potion or mixture", often one with healing or transformative properties.

From φυλτράω (to filter, to purify)

Since φίλτρο literally translates to “filter” (in fact, that’s where the English word comes from), we use φίλτρο as “(purifying) filter”. To clarify that we are referring to a magic potion, we specify it like “μαγικό φίλτρο” (maghikó fíltro) = magic potion.

2. ελιξίριο (elixírio, n)

Another interesting anti-loan. It comes from the Arab (al-iksīr), which likely comes from the Greek ἐξέρειν ("to purify" or "to dissolve"). An al-iksīr / elixirio was a substance believed to have the power to transform base metals into gold or grant eternal life.

3. μύηση (míisi, n)

Lit. "to close the eyes/lips". It means "initiation", introducing someone into a secret or sacred group, order, or tradition. In a mystical or spiritual context, it signifies the process of being introduced to esoteric teachings or practices, often with ceremonial or ritualistic elements.

This term was widely used in ancient Greek religious practices, particularly in the context of the Ελευσίνια Μυστήρια (Eleusinian Mysteries), where initiates underwent a process of spiritual enlightenment and secrecy. It continues to hold similar connotations in modern mystical and spiritual traditions in the Greek vocabulary.

from μύω, meaning "to close" (particularly the eyes or lips). This reflects the act of secrecy or exclusivity, as mystical initiation often involves revealing hidden knowledge to the initiate. (same root with μύωψ/μύωπας.) From personal research, perhaps the meaning of μύω to “close” derives from the mousehole, or the blind condition of the mice.

4. μύστης (místis, n)

Lit. "the one with closed eyes/mouth". Used for "the initiate" – someone who has been initiated into secret or mystical knowledge, especially in religious or spiritual contexts.

Figuratively, it can mean someone deeply knowledgeable in a specific, often esoteric, subject.

From μύω, the same verb as above.

5. μυστικό (mistikó, n)

Lit. “The thing you get initiated into”. Secret – something hidden or confidential. It can also carry a mystical or esoteric connotation in certain contexts.

From μύω

6. ξόρκι (ksórki, n)

Lit. “invocation”. Ritual or magical practice, incantation, casted spell.

from ἐξορκίζω ("to swear an oath", "to invoke.") which is composed of ἐξ (out) + ὄρκος (oath).

7. εξορκισμός (exorkismós, n)

Lit. "to make a solemn vow." Exorcism, the ritual or practice of driving out demons, evil spirits, or malevolent forces. In a broader sense, it refers to any act meant to purify or rid something of harmful supernatural influences. It is also used to make someone swear an oath for something, otherwise something bad will happen to them. (“σε ξορκίζω”)

from ἐξορκίζω

8. ευλογία (evloghía, n)

Literally, "good speech". Metaphorically it means "praise," or "blessing." In modern times it’s used as “blessing”, often in a religious or spiritual context. In Christian contexts, ευλογία often refers to a prayer or act of blessing bestowed by a priest or spiritual leader.

Older people give their blessings/good wishes to the younger for a good life, or for good luck on a new endeavor.

From ευ- ("good" or "well") + λόγος ("speech" or "word")

▣ ━ Find part 1 here ▣ ━ My masterpost with similar posts on Greek Language ━ ▣

#please reblog - I tried a lot for this o.o #it took me more than it should #hellenic language #hellas #hellenic history #hellenismos #greek language #linguistics #languages #language #history #greece #writing #greek mythology #helpol #greek words #books #withcraft #witch

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lilithsterrarium · 24 days ago

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well i guess if you don't want uppies-- oh, oops, sorry, i mean help, you can hang out on the ground level for a little while. on another note i have to vacuum today - oh wait where'd you go? hm, probably got stuck in a mouse hole again…

BDHFHFHFJFJFJFFJIZCXJ!!!!!!!!

... I still havent recovered from the LAST time I got stuck in a mousehole... those rodents are unrelenting!!! And surprisingly kind of hung....

BBBUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT!!!! I- I can't just stay on the floor!!!! Standing at your foot level, unable to get anywhere by myself, having to crane my neck just to get a glimpse of anything higher than your legs... all my little squeaks practically inaudible... forced to watch my betters move around me, not knowing if I need to scamper out of the way of their footfalls....

... i- if I call it uppies will you carry me again...? Please?

#ask tag

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lostcausegeneralart · 9 months ago

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Introduction to Tumbal !

Hello to all of my fellow ghouls and welcome to the first post on this new blog of mine! I, once before, that attempted to post of Tumblr yet I fell out of it and eventually quit, but today is indeed where that changes! And, for my grand entrance, I've decided to. . . Talk about one of my original characters for a long while. I admit that it is a tad cliché but context is important, especially with the characters I want to get to talking about in the hopefully near future. However, before I can get to the name sake of this blog, I will first explain one of my favorite characters within my collection of Deltarune ocs. So please, if you may be so inclined to go on this journey with me, I shall inquire about this character.

Tumbal is my idea for a Secret Boss for my take on Chapter Three of Deltarune. He, as his design might suggest, is based on the infamous Woody Theory based on Toby's remixes of the song You've Got a Friend in Me. Tumbal is not a skrunkly fellow and nor is he a chaotic critter, instead he is a horrific, compassionless beast who actively lures people into his abandoned set to kill them and use their bodies as puppets. To find Tumbal, you'll first need to find his Friends. Around Homewood, you'll be able to find NPCs that seem a little bit. . . off. They seem to be made of trash, people comment on their strangeness, and there seen to be vines growing around them. You'd find the first one very early on, and you'd need to find all four of them to get the OldReel. This reel can be given to one of the shopkeepers, Barley!

Barley's Light World object is an unopened wine bottle that Toriel left in the cupboard. He's a bit of an older gent but there's a reason he still gets roles in Rook's productions. He's chipper and runs a bar near the end of the journey. Once you find him and talk to him about his past roles, you can give him the OldReel, which will allow you to get his secret dialogue about Tumbal, after which he'll give you the TrashKey.

". . . sigh. . . So y' found out about it. . . Alright kid, pull up a seat, it's been. . . A while since I had to think about this. . . Look, everyone has their start. For some, it's a small production that shows their future strengths. For Rook, it was a small little show. A pretty low budget, dinky sets, an amateur filmmaker's playground. Tenna was the first to join, and then a casting call was put out and I got hired to do some work for it. . . But there was this one kid. . . He was full of hopes. . . And so many dreams of grandeur. Yeah, the show wasn't the best, but we all eventually grew to love our cast members and crew. It was great. . . sigh . . . Until the accident. The time for the finale had come around. We'd all been waiting for this day, all of us excited for what was to come. . . But then. . . Disaster struck. . . I don't even remember what happened, all I remember was a gunshot and then violent screams of agony. Everyone was running for the door, everyone was panicking and rushing out. . . Except that kid. He was nowhere to be seen. . . And I knew. I knew that Tenna. . . Tenna unintentionally. . . You can fill in the blanks. Some would say it was only up from there, I'd say that it's gotten so much worse. Tenna never really recovered from that, nor did Rook. It never felt like any of us were close or. . . Even friends anymore. . . Sometimes I think about that kid. . . And I start to notice things I hadn't before. . . Vines growing from mouseholes, trash appearing out of nowhere, random people disappearing. . . All I could think about after that was that leaving that kid there was the worst mistake any of us had ever made. . . . . . Maybe you could stop it for good and give us some closure on that, kid. . . Or maybe it's better to let the dead rot. . ."

You'd find the abandoned set in a lower level of Rook Tower. On of the only things visible once you'd get down there would be a fogged up piece of glass in the wall, like a forgotten window. . . But in the basement of all places? The place would be dark, filles with cobwebs, broken props, loose scripts, and vines galore. One you inspect the glass. . . You finally see the person you've been working your way towards this entire time. . .

* . . .

* {Come on, Kris! Just this way and-}

* {Just this way and-}

* { JUST THIS WAY AND-}

* . . .KRIS. . .IT'S ME. . .

* {Your Ol' Pal!}

* . . .DON'TCHA REMEMBER YOUR OWN {Pal!} , FRIEND. . ?

* FRIEND. . .

* I HAVE LOTS OF FRIENDS. . .

* YOU'VE MET THEM. . .HAVEN'T Y'. . ?

* ALL OF MY BESTEST FRIENDS. . .

* WOULDN'TCHA LIKE TO SEE 'EM

* {This isn't going back on air, Rook! Not after that god forsaken acci-}

* I SEE. . .

* YOU WANT TO. . .{Exit}. . ?

* FRIEND. . .

* YOU CAME ALL THIS WAY. . .

* Y' MADE SO MANY FRIENDS. . .

* WHY STOP HERE. . ?

* WHY STOP WHEN YOU'RE ALREADY {So far gone}?

* YOU DON'T NEED THE OTHERS. . .

* YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT. . .DON'TCHA?

* ALL OF THEIR FAILURES. . .ALL OF THE REASONS TO {shot.} THEM. . .

* {LITTLE KNIGHT! WHY DID YOU STOP THE SHOW ?}

* {I'm not cuttin' y' a DEAL, Kris. I'm not helping you steal all I've got.}

* {. . .What have I done. . ?}

* WHY DON'T Y' COME ON OVER TO MY SIDE. . .

* LET'S LET THEM FALL WHILE WE RISE. . .

* YOU CAN'T LET THOSE {Snake}S HOLD YOU DOWN. . .

* SO WHATDYA SAY. . .KRIS. . ?

Similar to Spamton's fight, you'd be alone for the first part of this encounter. Help would arrive only after you'd already used the TrashKey on the glass panel and entered into Tumbal's Domain. This location would be a whole 'nother level of dilapidated compared to the room before it. The life that used to permeate through this set, a place filled wall to wall with times of the good and the bad, is reduced to nothing but an ugly mess of decay and carcasses. . . Tumbal would monologue for a bit before grabbing Kris, throwing them to the floor and getting ready to tear into them, when Ralsei would burst in and restrain Tumbal with his scarf. The Fun Gang would stand in front of Tumbal, the first few notes of DEATH ANGEL blare out as he tries to shoot Kris dead. . . When a familiar green glow envelopes their soul and let's them, and by proxy you, block attacks. Unfortunately, Tumbal has a trick up his nonexistent sleeves, RED attacks. These attacks can't be blocked, but instead need to be blasted away by the Green Soul Mode's new ability, a beam that is charged by oncoming attacks and TP. Now the fight may truly commence!

Tumbal's fight would be a lot more difficult than the bosses before him due to his constant switching of the soul modes for certain attacks, even switching the mode mid-attack. Tumbal would throw everything he has at you, using bullets from his fingers, thorns, vines, signs from his speech quirk, trash, and anything else he could feasibly use to bash Kris's face in. To spare him, you'd need to shine light onto him, slowly causing his movements to become less erratic as he slowly but surely freezes in place. Once you are finally able to freeze him entirely, or beat him until he can't fight anymore. . .

A stage light would fall directly on top of Tumbal, killing him instantly.

Tumbal's end of fight dialogue would come from a recording that starts playing on a TV in the now darkened arena. It'd be the only surviving footage of Tumbal before the accident, and in it he'd talk with someone behind the camera about his hopes and dreams. Eventually, the recording would glitch and distort until Tumbal words would be stitched together to form one final statement, "let me be your strength." After this, you would be given the BanditsHonor if you spared him, the TwistedDagger if you killed him, and a ShadowCrystal. . .

So, that is Tumbal' entire quest line. I really wanted this to be dark and twisted because my take on Chapter Three is pretty light-hearted and it wod contrast well with the other two Canon Secret Bosses. For clarity's sake, I'd like to clear up a few things. Tumbal's speech quirk would have him replace phrases with signs in-game, but in-universe it would be him mimicking things he's heard before. This would be shown through other character's dialogue noises playing during these brief moments. I know this is very similar to Spamton. . . and I don't have much to add after that. Anyway, Tenna and Barley aren't the only ones affected by Tumbal. A minor character in the storyline, Chai Nelguid, would be manipulated by Tumbal to try to get The Fun Gang to him earlier. The rest of The Midnight Channel, the main villains of this chapter (Mike, Rook, and Tenna), would all be affected by his death. Rook would try to play it safe from now on due to Tumbal's death, Tenna would grieve and try to cover the entire thing up, and Mike. . . Mike has a few loose ends he needs to tie up for his master plan. . . Finally, here's a list of his tracks.

*flytrap.ogg - Tumbal's Friends' theme.

*corpselily.ogg - Abandoned Set theme.

*DEATH ANGEL - Tumbal's battle theme.

*foxglove.ogg - after-battle theme.

For making it this far, here's some art of him that I've made! Some of these may include other people's characters who I'll be sure to credit!

These three don't have anyone else in them besides characters that I made for my Chapter Three Take. And Kris. They're also there. So is Susie and Toriel.

All other characters mentioned or shown besides Tumbal are owned by @glitch-the-artist . Yes, even Sailor Moon. /j

That concludes my rant about Tumbal, if you'd like to know more, Tumbal has a Toyhouse that you can look through. There isn't much and it is a bit outdated but I think it's neat. Thank you so much for reading through this massive post and, to those who've awaited my return, I expect nothing, so shock me with something. That is all. Goodfright from me!

https://toyhou.se/28008045.tumbal

#deltarune secret boss #deltarune fanart #deltarune fan character #art #Grimmrune - Chapter Three #Tumbal #oc #oc art #oc rant #infodump #deltarune #deltarune chapter 3 #secret boss #friend inside me #woody theory #my grand return!#Didn't expect this. Didya?

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sleepyselkiesims · 1 month ago

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Part 35

Cinder knew how much Alexa loved her grill, though she usually left her food to rot on it... someone had to clean it, and Cinder considered it a fair trade for free rent.

Although, recently Cinder had been having some rather ungracious thoughts about his living arrangement... but it was hard to focus on the negativity when he had such a cute puppy to distract him with dancing! And Cinder would always rather daydream and dance than focus on his problems.

Bruno was also doing his part to fight negativity, herding it into a room and keeping a definitely wide open eye on it.

When Alexa eventually dodged Bruno to go to work, the loyal dog did his best to help out with chore time.

Unfortunately trying to help out just got Bruno all messy, leading to more chores. Poor lil guy felt so guilty about the whole thing.

Cinder was kept so busy cooking and cleaning, poor Jaq-Gus was also suffering the messy consequences.

Thankfully with the twins out of the house and busy, Cinder found a spare moment to save Jaq-Gus from the filth.

Cleaning + pet care had always been Cinder's favorite things, so between Bruno and the rat he was having the time of his life! Alexa shoving him into this room with the mousehole really did have it's upsides!

CINDER DO NOT PUT THE RECENTLY FILTHY RAT RIGHT NEAR YOUR FACE!!

Phew! Thankfully Cinder did stay movie-accurate insofar as having animals magically love him and not want to cause him harm. Jaq-Gus enjoyed rodent playtime just as much as Cinder!

Once all the chores for the day were done, Cinder had one last thing he needed to do in the kitchen...

Cinder's cooking skills had improved a lot since he'd moved in with the Barrera's, but uh.... baking still escaped him. Literally.

Bruno initially came over to lick up some spilled deliciousness, but found himself face to face with a familiar shape baking in the oven...

Bruno didn't know much about the ways of humans, but he knew when this particular food was made, it meant it was time for lots of people, celebrating, presents.... so where was everyone?

As Cinder pulled the cake out of the oven, he tried to reassure Bruno that it was ok, really. But Bruno knew the boy's smile was starting to wear thin.

Bonus

Still too soon for me, Selene. Too soon....

#sleepysims #sims 4 #disney princess legacy challenge #Cinderella

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immoralimmortals · 2 months ago

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A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 64: Interdimensional

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Chapter Summary: Happy anniversary of the worst day of your life. Though maybe it's not so bad…that's about when the performer met Hidan, after all.

Author's Note:

The song for this chapter is Interdimensional by Cosmo Sheldrake. CONTENT WARNINGS: This particular chapter is especially about the performer's suicide and what's happened since. Thank you @gorefemme for beta reading again <3

─── �� ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was interdimensional

It was only the moon and me

It was past pataphysical

It was what set the tune in G

It was long irresistible

Like a thorn in a blossom tree

All was lost, imperceptible

It was nothing if not serene

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Alright,” Deidara calls up, hands on his hips and nose pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “Final test. You get down on your own and Sasori says you’re good to go, un.”

The recovering patient peeks down from the attic entrance, feeling akin to a mouse glancing out of a mousehole. All of a sudden the ladder seems much longer, the steps between too far apart. When you’re injured, it makes you so much more aware of what you can and can’t do. She supposes that’s the reason this is the “final test”, even if she’s been able to walk on her own for a few days without so much as a limp. She never once rejected help for going up and down the faux doctor’s office; it never seemed to bother them anyway, how cleanly they can jump in and out even with her in their arms. And so it’s the one task left to observe the woman do herself.

Time to make sure the girl can be independent...at least as much as circumstances will allow.

“Takara-chan?”

She gives a questioning gasp, shaking her head out of the clouds. Seeing Deidara smirk up at her helps her recenter, firming her expression into a seriousness akin to a child’s when they’re going down a slide for the first time.

Okay.

She can do this.

Can’t let a face cute as his get let down.

One foot drops until it finds landing. Then the next. And again. And again. She only lets her breath go once her bare feet are on solid ground, floorboards warm from a sunny window under her toes. Lengthy blonde hair tilts along with Deidara’s head as he hums in approval.

“Good job, Takara!” the familiar voice congratulates. And then further away—

“Oi, Takara! Good job!”

—Another speaks.

The named woman opens her eyes and turns towards the end of the hallway to see...Hidan. His brow is rigid but there’s a big grin on his face; he really does seem excited for her. Who can blame him, with his only real friend locked away for days on end?

“Finally!” he cheers, a bit of an impatient tinge to his voice to suggest this should have happened forever ago. “Your leg all good?”

…

One eyebrow raises with the dead air he’s met with, and his upper lip curls. “Sasori didn’t poison ya, did he?”

…

...She just stares. Without an explanation to be had, the reaper is left increasingly confused and uneasy.

“What?” His head cocks, tilting where it’s hinged on his shoulders and exacerbating the stretch stitches make between layers of skin. It makes it all the more distracting, and therefore the problem gets worse. His gaze stays locked on as she walks, one foot, then the next.

Again.

And again.

Even so close, getting such a good view of her big, wide eyes, Hidan still doesn’t get it. “Hey. What’s wrong with you? Why so quiet?”

You can’t really say much about what really happened in front of Deidara’s listening ears, not about how horrible it is his neck looks like that. Thankfully, said blonde makes it easy to bypass the topic, interrupting the woman’s contemplation of a previous decapitation with his own suspicions.

“What are you doing here, Hidan?” the artist asks, crossing his arms.

“Eh? I live here, asshole! What are YOU doing?!”

“I also live here?” The title of ‘jackass’ is implied by the tone, insult itself saved for a more deserving time. “I mean...it’s not like you to show up and not want anything, un.”

“I could say the same of you!” Hidan retorts, his lip curling once again to snarl. Only Sasori was supposed to be involved in her recovery...so what the hell is blondie around for? It compounds a well-worn accusation: “Watterya doing, keeping her around every night?”

“Well, obviously it’s not because I want anything because I don’t get anything, un.”

“So you admit it!”

“Admit what?”

“You wanna fuck her!”

“Oh fuck you!” Deidara dismisses. And just as soon as his nose wrinkles in disgust...it relaxes. The shorter man hums questioningly. “Um…?”

“Um what! Don’t change the subje—…” But just as soon, Hidan’s expression does the same. A silver head of hair looks side by side, then behind. “...Where’d she go…?”

She went someplace to think.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was multidirectional

Wasn't there to determine why

It was plainly invisible

Like the depth of the blue sky

I was whole, indivisible

But you asked me if you could try

There was no individual

There was not even you or I

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Her winter clothes are soiled, soaked in Hidan’s blood and tattered from the tugging branches she ran against. She can’t wear her nightgown forever. The Halloween dress is too big and unnecessary, and the kimono is only supposed to be for formal wear. That really only leaves one choice, especially now that it is, with no use to deny...spring.

If you had told her she’d be alive a whole year later, she’d look up at you from her seat on the beach and figure that’s a threat. Only way she expected to make it was in some way medicated by force, either surviving her suicide and taken to hospital or otherwise removed before the rest of her dwindling supply of pills kicked in and knocked her out, waves dragging her to sea. But it didn’t happen like that. It worked.

...In a way.

She heard somewhere a theory, and she didn’t pay it much mind until now. Some people believe that when you die, the chemicals in your brain trick you into living the longest moment of your life. A spare few of said people wonder if that moment is another lifetime. Anecdotal evidence is usually not convincing, but perhaps the performer will wake up in a gurney, look up to a nurse in a surgical mask, and tell them of a world beyond their imagination.

The woman who died on the cusp of spring emerges like the flowers are from the ground, a stranger dressed in pink, blue, and white feeling the softness of the earth under her feet. Geosmin plants its strong, vibrant scent in her chest as she breathes in one...long...breath. The ocean of her death is drawn forward, louder.

In.

…

And out. The water fades and the birds are tweeting instead. Right here. For real.

For real.

She isn’t sure if she feels good or if she feels bad, but she certainly does feel a lot of it. A year. Exact or not to the day, either way: that’s how long it’s been! As she sinks little by little her toes into the mud, something else from a year ago gives a piece of his mind.

“Hey!”

The traveler looks over her shoulder; she shouldn’t be surprised Hidan came to follow. He looks so...vibrant. Not in demeanor, not even in personality, just in...himself. The world looks greener around him, the branches budding their mint-yellow leaves and buds, blades of grass near his shoes. It’s almost like the plants grow before her eyes as he begins to walk forward, like a memory repeating. It’s him again.

A whole year later. A spring, a summer, a fall, winter...and it’s still him.

Is she still her?

...Probably the same question crossing the yu-nin’s mind, too. He blinks, her stance strangely tall but her behavior numb like the days after she was kidnapped. “You...normal?”

Obviously not. He finishes walking till they’re both alongside, shoulder to shoulder. He glances her up and down, eyes narrowing more at what he finds.

“…Yer gonna get sick with your feet in the mud like that,” he comments, tapping the side of his sandal to her uncovered heel. “Trench foot, I think it’s called.”

Her mouth flickers a slight guilty grimace that only lasts as long as a jerky shrug. It's a movement cut short; Hidan’s action causes a real grimace.

“Hey, chemicals!” he chides, knocking into her side with enough weight to make her flail for balance. “Even up! My girl’s in there, you know?!”

Now with her back bent uncomfortably, Hidan pressed into her shoulder as he yells about the chemicals in her brain— something that without prior context would be nonsense—...the corners of her mouth pull, pull, pull...into a smile.

He’s so relieved to hear her laugh.

“Hidan, stop it!”

“Why should I?!” Hidan challenges. He gets his own shit-eating grin as she finally, finally, in her own little way fights back, bumping right back into him. There ain’t a lot of force to it, but he lets himself bounce back to her shove anyways as their shoulders war.

“Because!”

...And then her expression suddenly falls, a precursor to the rest of her self moving the same way. Hidan, fortunately, is in ripe position to catch her as she slides forward in the slick dirt, rescuing from a face full of dirt. Her arms dangle as he loops one of his own around her midsection. They swish, more and more slightly, back and forth...back and forth. And it isn’t until they stop that she finally has something to say:

“...Sorry," the woman squeaks.

Oh, not this shit again. Hidan wrinkles his nose. “Apologize again and I’ll drop ya.”

…

With difficulty, the silence is passed. “Good girl.” Satisfied, Hidan stands her up, giving one more look up and down. “Anyway. Everything go okay? Sasori helped, right?" Yet another anxious once-over, trying to trace any cause of her weirdness. "You’re obviously walking, so…”

She nods, once again trying and failing to ignore the injury on him that she caused. “Yeah. It took a while, but…”

…

It’s hard to stay cheerful looking her burden to others in the face.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “For...real. I got you hurt. I—”

“I’m fine,” he asserts in a snap, a sharp edge to it halfway between annoyed and heartbroken. “You’d rather be the one killed instead? If it’s between that and what happened, I’d do it again.”

…

“...I wouldn’t,” she murmurs, remembering the blood, the way he screamed in pain. Hidan’s disciple would never want something like that ever, ever again.

The sentiment, of course, isn't shared, Hidan watching her shrink and get sad in that way only she does with such terrible finesse. “Alright then…” he mutters back. There’s exactly one thing he’s learned from Kisame that’s worthwhile: when the girl feels helpless, it ain’t a bad idea to pick her up and start walking.

So exactly that’s what he does.

“H-Hidan—?!”

She's been plucked like a daisy from the mud. Sure is cute to get her to blush and stutter like that. The brief journey starts, and Hidan’s grateful he gets to carry her again— not because she’s weak, but because she looks so good when he does, angling above with those eyes all on him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Up above and barefoot

My feet were on the cold ground

I looked a little harder

Life was blooming all around

Undulating order

My ears were bathed in strange sounding tunes

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The lake.

It doesn’t have waves— not really. It doesn’t lap and it doesn’t crash and it doesn’t drag you away if you sit too close for too long. But even so, even so...there's something about it that makes the performer hears the sigh of an ocean in her ears.

It ends up being more distracting than she realizes. After a moment of blank staring and still standing, Hidan continues to walk...forward...and forward. What’s he doing? Wading into it…? It isn’t for a while that she notices the water level isn’t rising as he keeps going in.

Holy. Shit.

“You—” she finally speaks once marvel lets go of her tongue. The woman looks side to side in confirmation, but it's true. No way. No way! “You...walk on water…!?”

“Huh? What?" the man answers casually, though he soon remembers the advice he's gotten about how she's new to everything. "Oh. Yeah. Everyone can.” A pause and a small shrug. “Shinobi, that is. Not you civilians. But it's easy. They teach kids to do it.”

However juvenile and unimpressive it is to Hidan, however, it still makes a girl whisper her amazement. “I—...wow. Wow…!” Who is he to help but smirk at that?

“Shoulda taken you for a walk sooner, huh?" he comments. It's so weird, the way she looks at everything. It's like she's seeing it for the first time. Maybe she is. His expression drops into something closer to his usual, a bit bored and a bit disappointed. "Ain’t good for ya, acting like you gotta live in a corner all the time.” Does she have anything to say to that? The reaper waits a second, but no. With another exasperated sigh, his head tilts up. The stretch of water is a light blue as it reflects the sky and the bark of tree trunks; doesn't really strike him much, really. He's not much of one for the beauty of nature. “I heard we got a pond," he explains simply. "Never bothered to make it out here.”

But while it may not be Hidan’s sort of place, it certainly is hers, he quickly finds out.

“Eh?” he hums, catching the way her fingers stretch out. “What, you wanna touch it? It’s just shitty lake water. You sure?” But before she can apologize again, he abides by her clear wishes, kneeling down so the surface he so easily strides on is within reach. Shyly, her hand lifts— and she looks to him, halfway between amazed and guilty. Hidan feels no need to give his permission, just looking back neutrally...and so she finally chooses for herself to indulge. Indeed, her fingers seep through; it is no optical illusion. Stars glitter in her eyes. The same word as before repeats as there’s simply nothing else she can say:

“W...Wow...”

“You never told me what it was like to get here. What it was like when you first got here.”

A statement that makes sense with his inner monologue and hers. But still, out loud it's quite the non sequetor. “That’s...a lot to unpack.”

“I got all day.” And he does. After all, Hidan enjoys the way it feels to hold her, stooping over the water while an arm of hers can lazily reach down and scrape the surface with her knuckles. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“It’s been about a year, right? Since I met ya.”

That’s right.

She looks at herself in the water, the vision of herself drifting in and out, between herself, the sky, and the depths below. Where would she be if not here? It's hard to say. “...I’d be lost without you. Hidan,” she says, remembering. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

“Well, you can thank me by talkin’ about yourself for once.”

She thinks she does that plenty...but if there’s one person who’s owed this explanation, it’s him. “I just...suddenly found myself here," the disciple begins, as best as she can. "In a place totally not like where I was— where I’ve ever been...before.” Swish, go her fingertips on the water, still ice cold from the thaw. “I...well. I freaked out. ...Though not right away, I guess. I thought I was dreaming.”

Waves. Back, forth. In...out. Each step, each blink, like the world was receding and coming back in in rhythm with her breath. Brighter, brighter...darker, darker...

“I thought...I was just dreaming.”

Hidan's not much of one for dreams. He never got them much when he slept, and if you call someone "dreamy" it either means they're pitiably cute or zone out way too much. This girl's the epitome of both, especially right now. Hidan's not much of one for dreams, so the girl makes him think, and making him think makes him want to know. "'Member what you were doing...?" he prods, for once purposefully keeping his voice low, so as to not break her apparent trance.

“Wandering." A reach, her knuckles squeezing gradually into the water. Her eyes shift ever so slightly like she's searching something he can't see. "The world felt more...real than before.”

“Well that doesn’t make sense," the man interrupts. His reflection has a wispy cloud go over his eyes. "What the hell does that mean? Can you explain it?"

“It’s something about how my senses felt," she attempts, a furrow in her brow, "Like they were sharper… Everything was new.” A flicker of a smile. “I lived a lot of my old life...numb. I guess it’s the first time in a long time I felt...I felt...—“

...

The emptiness inside of her rings, but a hum from a man's lips drips in, giving her something to hold onto and pull back out. The traveler looks up to him. Old and big trees carve their bendy shapes behind his head like a frame. A bird flies by, brown-winged and happy to sing it's song. As she observes this, Hidan sees her eyes, and for the first time...he understands that some people fall asleep standing up and with their eyes open.

"Free," she whispers.

Numb where she was before...and feeling more here...? This gives something for Hidan to chew on, suspecting she’s from a holy place and all. What's that supposed to mean, then? It makes him have to ask: “Did you feel bad before?”

“For a while," is the answer, one that just makes him more perplexed. "For a while, I felt bad. But then it was just...numb.”

That word again. "Like when you are when you're sick?"

She doesn't have it in her to say yes to that.

…

“So," Hidan asks, diverting the subject despite his desire to know, "What then?” He almost regrets it, since it makes her look at the water again instead of him.

“After a while, I remember eyes looking at me." Might go without saying how easy it is to see him— not Hidan. The first him. How easy was she to manipulate, thrust into existence when her body in shock like it had prepared to die, just like her mind? It's a fuzzy memory, even if she did want to think about it more. "Someone took me by the wrist...and said they had a place for me to stay. At the time it still felt like part of the dream, you know?" the performer pleads, "But as time passed, I guess I started to feel that too. I didn’t get fed. I was thirsty. It was like...I needed to unthaw before I became real again. I don’t think it was until the day I met you that survival instincts actually started to kick in.”

Ah, yes...Hidan remembers that day with pride. His smile returns, a lot warmer and fond than most anyone else would be for bloodshed and gore. “You did good there, girlie.” But she doesn’t look happy about it; her brow knits more as she forces herself to relive her evil deed.

“...I see him sometimes when I sleep,” she admits, voice low and wondering if the water at her fingertips really does seem more red or if it's just the clouds on the reaper's cloak. “With his guts open...by my hand again...and the eye he punched c-collapsing in my socket." And then, she beseeches him, hallowed and desperate and lost:

"Do you think Jashin wants that for me?”

Hidan's said before, at least in writing, that he only knows what he knows. In a rare moment where he accepts his own lack of assurance, teeth briefly pull in his bottom lip— maybe an action that's contagious from being around the likes of her. “Dunno…” he eventually says. However, his focus shifts. Something about that makes him, deep down, feel a bit slighted. The stitches at his neck stretch again with yet another questioning tilt. “So you dream of that fucker and not me?”

…

“No," and it sounds more like an admission of guilt than an assurance of his importance to her inner life. "...I dream of you, too.”

“Good.”

He might be smiling anyways, if he knew exactly how bloody he looked in her sleep.

Hidan gradually lifts her back up, the face in the ripples drifting away as she and him meld into one shape across the moving liquid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Drop in the ocean

Oh, so benevolent

Plucked from the eyebrow

Of some resplenderment

Tongue tied eloquence

Dropped in the deeper end

Man overboard at sea in bewilderment

Over borders lost in the wilderness

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It wasn’t exactly what he meant, when she answered his question to coming from here or there and what he got was a nearly whimsical poem about consciousness. It's inevitable for him to prod again, even if he waits a while.

“Do you remember it?” he asks, as he holds her close to his chest, chin on her head in this nook of a tree. It reminds her of the place she ran away to when she was little, when she had hoped to die and never be found.

“Remember what?” She already knows the answer, but can't bear to speak it herself.

“What it was like, you know? To actually get here. Not just to me." He adds firmly: "Here.”

Here as in...yeah. Of course he wants to know that. So does she.

“I...fell asleep.” It isn’t a lie if she leaves out how she fell asleep— just an omission. Right? “I just..." an angel whispers in the dark, "...Fell asleep…”

One of her hands reaches inside of her mind to see if she actually remembers anything about it, about the actual transfer of Alice to the Wonderland. She can’t tell if it’s real or imagination when she sees gushes of dark water gliding past her face, so fast yet so gentle like it's cupping her cheeks— that as she seeps deeper into the ocean, the debris and particles become brighter as they swim by, that the water eventually stops moving and simply becomes space with stars twinkling in the sky. Maybe she just thinks of it that way because it'd be more beautiful than simply nothing.

Are they stars?

Where is she?

Where is she...in the stars...?

...

In his arms, like a tulip bulb resistant to breaking through topsoil just yet, the woman falls asleep. He grips her like dirt warming in the sun, tight and safe until she’s ready to leave the numb hibernation and pop her petals back up.

He knows what feels like, after all, and sometimes he wishes someone else was there for him leaving Yugakure like he gets to be for her leaving heaven. The light outside is distant but strong, bleeding its rays past the roots that surround like a cave until the last of dancing dust motes are lit just above their heads. So deep— yards and meters deep away from the rest of the world— the scent of wood moistened by melted snow permeates every breath in their lungs. Good girl she is, there’s the symbol of his lord back around her neck.

“Angel,” he whispers, hoping that maybe if he says it at just the right time, he can slip into her brain once again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I wasn't big

I wasn't small

I wasn't anyone at all

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#akatsuki x reader #akatsuki x oc #hidan x oc #hidan x reader #aswtn fic #songfic

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ceilingfan5 · 2 years ago

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thankpologies

(another @taznovembercelebration delight, for sick)

“I can do it,” Kravitz murmbles hoarsely from under about fifteen blankets. He stares blankly up at the dark ceiling. Taako wants to put him in his pocket and he isn’t even wearing pants yet.

“Yeah?” Taako shuts off their fourth alarm. And the fifth one, you know, preemptively. “You sure there, bud?”

“I can do it,” he insists, like he’s trying to convince himself, too. “I’m……………………….good.”

“You’re good?” Taako’s trying not to laugh, he promises. Kravitz looks miserable. He looks like a wet sack of marbles left behind in a dead mall. What were those marbles for? Why are they wet? Is someone going to miss the marbles? Who can say. But they’re going in Taako’s pocket.

“Sooooo good.” Kravitz tries to sit up, fails, and squinches his eyes shut, groaning. “I’m, good. I’m good. I’m good I’m good I’m good. I can do it.”

“What if,” Taako says, “Hear me out.”

“I’m not staying h— ome.” Kravitz swallows, once, twice, a third time, none of them looking less unpleasant. “Home,” he corrects. “No way. Got. Too much work to day. Do.”

“Hear me out though,” Taako says. “Perhaps, correct me if I’m wrong, the county coroner should maybe not look like a zombie.”

“I d- doh- hhh. Zombie.” Kravitz tries to sit up properly, and it makes Taako wince just to watch him. He unwraps another single cracker from the Freshstack ™ they were working through at two in the morning, and hands it to him. Kravitz nibbles on it like the world’s most pathetic mouse. Like if a mouse was divorced, and crying a little, and wet, like a sack of marbles. He gets about a third of the way through this monumental obstacle and then lets his hand flop down, and Taako is very normal and makes no crumb comments, because his boy is ailin’.

Ooooh, is he ailin’. So ailin’ he’s from another planet.

“Let’s write your boss an email, and then tuck you back in, buster.”

“Noooooo,” Kravitz whines.

“My guy, my handsome criminal empire cohost, you get that you are making Taako be the voice of reason, yeah?”

Kravitz considers this.

“Haven’t barfed yet,” he says, petulantly.

“Sit up and put on your tie,” Taako challenges.

There’s a long beat.

“No?”

“That’s what I thought, asshole.” Taako reaches over and squeezes Kravitz’s hand with affection. He hands him his phone. “Let’s just, be brief. Dear boss, can’t come in today, so sorry. Love you, bye.”

Kravitz drops his phone on his face.

“Fuck,” he says, delayed. Taako covers a snort. Poor beast. He takes the phone and can’t cover a second one. “Oh, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Kravitz blinks, and rubs his general face zone.

“Your beautiful schnozz hit send on this masterpiece?” Taako shows him, but not until after taking a screenshot and sending it to himself, for posterity and also social media crimes.

To: [email protected]

Subject: ow

DEAR HELLO Cannot’nt come to death today, I am maybe am not well enough to help bodies thankpologies K

–sent from my iPhone

“What’s wrong with it?” Kravitz says, grimacing.

“Yeah, you’re not goin’ fuckin’ anywhere, beloved,” Taako decides. He hands him his damaged little sadboy cracker and kisses his forehead and tucks him in, and starts doing the Get Ready Shimmy. “I’ll be checking in on you on my lunch hour, unless you think I need to call in too, and take your sorrowful mouse ass to the hopsicle.”

“Probaly not,” Kravitz cannot manage a whole lot of conviction. He nibbles the cracker. Wetly. “I’ll…watch the price is right?”

“You’ll sleep.”

“I’ll sleep,” Kravitz confirms, snuggling down, forgetting about the last third of the cracker right then and there. Given permission to burrow back into his pathetical little mousehole, his whole body relaxes, and somehow he manages to look even greyer. “I’ll sleep so many.”

“So many.” Taako pats something in the vicinity of his shoulder. “Poor bastard. If you get me sick, I am going to kill you.”

“No promises,” Kravitz sighs, almost immediately dozing right back off.

Shame Taako loves him so much.

[id: a space themed game board with 15 spaces and a cat, fish, and "good worker" sticker on 1, 2, and 3 respectively]

#sickfic #taakitz #taakitz fic #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #nausea #illness

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cerberusthenking3 · 1 year ago

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A Meal Fit for a King

Warning:This story contains soft,safe vore,accidental fearplay,mawplay,child prey,G/T,aftercare

I also(obviously)don't own Hazbin Hotel or any characters associated with it.Also, the borrowers in this AU aren't sinners but instead are hellborn who are commonly captured as snacks by sinners and bigger hellborn

Also, Lucifer has a crop because of shape-shifting abilities

I hope leviathanverse enjoys

May POV.

I sneakily slip by the guards at the door to the kitchen and between through the small slit under the door.I pop my head out of under the door and look around,taking a deep breath and giving a relieved sigh,no one's here.Its strange for the kitchen to be empty but I'm not one to miss an opportunity when it's offered to me so I slip in and run over towards one of the cupboards.My hand flicks into my belt and I pull my small hook and wire off the can top fashioned into a loop to hold my hook.My hand slides up the wire and I begin spinning it and take a second to calculate the angle and then I flick it up and silently celebrate as it perfectly wraps around the drawer handle and hooks to itself.My feet brace against the solid door and I quickly pull myself up the wooden pane and arrive at the handle before cautiously unfurling the wire off its anchor and pull myself up onto the counter.I dash across the pretty marble and arrive at a large platter of food and dig through it,choosing a few nice fruits like chunks of apple and pieces of grapes before smelling something more delicious than anything I've ever smelled before.I turn to were the smell is coming from and see a giant brown object covered in some sort of sweet smelling white liquid and cherries.I take a step towards is before stopping,this is definitely a trap so I need to leave,right now.I turn and begin back down the counter when another smell hits my nose.Okay,maybe one piece and then I'm gone,before anyone notices.

May POV.

I quickly scarf down a chunk of the delicious.....thing?Doesn't matter what it is,I tasted it, and now I have to leave.I turn to run off when a smell hits my nose,wait how did he get here?I should have smelled him long before"Why hello there,little borrower"I freeze as I slowly turn and see the king of hell,Lucifer,pulling himself out of a cabinet and he detransforms from a mouse into his real form,and I notice him licking the same sweet white liquid off his hand and his smell fully assaults my nose.He used the delicious snack as cover for his scent and covered his mouse dorm in it for extra measure.My heart begins banging against my chest as he steps towards me and says"You're not gonna leave withou-"I cut him off and sprint off as quickly as I can,leaping off the counter and throwing the hook out,watching it hook to the fridge handle before sliding down the wire and wrenching the hook away as I hear Lucifer finally chasing after me as I slide under the door and through the guards legs as one of them look down at me when the door is thrown open and lucifer runs out yelling"WAIT,I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU,COME BACK"I run into a small carved mousehole,which I use as a tunnel system to get around the mansion and collapse against the wall taking deep,gasping breaths before looking out the mousehole and seeing Lucifer on his knees looking in.He quickly says"I w got off on the wrong foot,I'm Lucifer,you are?"I step back and mutter."Not stupid enough to fall for this,bye"and sprint down the tunnel and back to my home.When I get back, I sigh and place my haul on the little table fashioned from a couple bottle caps and some toothpicks.Raising my hand up to my face I tightly squeeze the bridge of my nose and slam the bottom of my palm into my forehead,two years,I've gone two years here without being seen and I ruin it because of some random sweet food.I'm an idiot but I'm not stupid enough to stay here,this place was basically luxury but after tonight I'll have to find another place to stay.

May POV

My eyes snap open as I feel someone watching me, and I shoot up before feeling something, taking up most of the room.I look up, and my heart stops as I see a giant white snake wearing a tophat with a striped pink and red stomach is filling up most of my room.I scramble back and press my back against the wall as the snake.....talks?He anxiously says"Wait don't freak out,please,this probably isn't the best form for this,I now realize,but it's the first form I though of"My jaw drops and I pull the blanket closer to my mouth and softly say"P-please,don't e-eat m-m-me Me.L-Lucifer,i-im sorry for s-stealing from you,I'm g-gonna leave t-t-tommorow,I s-swear"He looks down at me and seems to start panicking before saying"Wait,I'm not mad at you,I've been trying to catc-meet you for a couple of months,that cake was actually made for you,which is why the kitchen was empty"I shiver as his head gets closer and use my free hand to push him away before saying"So,y-your not gonna e-e-eat me?"He avoids eye contact with me before saying certainly,"I swear I won't hurt or kill you in any way,"He let's me stand up as I act like I'm going towards my table before saying softly"Thats not what I asked,sir"He freezes which is enough of a hint to what he was planning for me to act.I leap over his coils as I sprint out of the room and dash down the hall but don't get very far as his tail wraps around my stomach and I just collapse as I'm pulled back into my room.I just sit there as I feel tears well up in my eyes and I hear him nervously ask"He-hey a-are you o-o-okay,oh wait,shit,you're crying,um,I swear I'm not gonna hurt you"He lifts me off the ground and I squeeze my eyes shut before I feel him begin moving.I slowly open my eyes and see that he's holding me while slithering through the tight corridor.I'm gonna die when he exits the wall,I give a dry sob before my body as close together as I can and try to imagine myself in my happy place.

May POV.

The ride gets bumpy after a couple of minutes, and then the tail dissapears off me.Instantly I try to run off before I feel a warm hand wrap around me and pull me up.My eyes flick around as I see that I'm being held at least three feet in the air,if I fall from here I'll break every bone in my body.I look around and see that I'm in a room I've never been in before with large shelves covered in..........rubber ducks?He laughs anxiously and says"sorry,I didn't have time to clean up but,Now presenting the magic-tasticle backflipping rubber duck!"He holds up a rubber duck, which promptly leaps up from his hand a flips over midair, and I just stare at him as he turns the duck before adding,"That also breaths fire!"And sure enough, the duck releases a burst of flame, and he sets it down before saying,"I know,it's kinda stupid. "I shake my head and say,"N-not really,I think it's pretty i-impressive."He smiles, and I grimace at the sharp teeth showing in his mouth. If I'm not careful, he's gonna be picking me out of them by tonight.He gently places me on the workshop table, and I notice a piece or what he called"cake."Sitting there when he pulls it over and leaves it in front of me.I sit there silently for a moment before he says."Dont worry,it's for you,"I quietly mutter. "T-thank you."It takes me thirty minutes to finish the piece of cake, but afterward, I notice that Lucifer is working on something.Slightly bored, I try to walk over to one of the ducks when he reaches out and picks me up.I whimper a little as he pulls me up and holds up a small toy,some kind of stuffed duck toy which feels very soft and huggable.I gently cuddle it to my chest and say"Thanks"He smiles and says"No problem......um,sorry I don't think you ever told me you're name?"I look him over looking for any reason not to tell him, but I guess that there's no point in not telling him,maybe it'll make him keep me as a pet over killing me"May,I'm May"He raises a finger to me and I put my hand out to shake it.

May POV.

I lay on Lucifers palm as he works on his newest invention before I hear his stomach growl,I notice his hand curling around me a bit and I give a smirk as I hear him say"Hey May-May......"I fake huff and say,"No, Luci,you can't. "He gives a groan and huffs at me before saying,"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease,May-May,I'll have another chocolate cake made for you. "I cross my arms and say,"A batch of brownies and you don't ask tomorrow. "He nods happily, and I sigh before grabbing Deuce,the stuffed duck that Luci gave me when we first met and walk up to him.He holds his hand out, and I step onto his palm of his hand where he pull me up to his mouth and opens his sharp teeth before laying his tongue over the bottom layer and I crawl into his mouth before he begins licking all over my body and gently gnawing on my arm.He gently suckles on me before pinning me to the roof of his mouth and swallowing excess saliva.He opens his mouth again before placing a small custom made pillow and blanket into his mouth with me and swallowing.It takes a minute or two to arrive in his crop where I cuddle to the wall as I hear him talking about his"Magic-tastical backflipping rubber duck"Before hearing his phone ring and he yells"DAUGHTER,DAUGHTER CALLING!"Oh, Satan,this'll go well.

#nonfatal vore #safe vore #soft vore #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #borrowers #accidental fearplay #mawplay #g/t #child prey

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tavolgisvist · 5 months ago

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In Liverpool, even conversation must work as entertainment: it isn’t twinkling or gentle, in the Irish way, but hard, competitive and cruel. But Liverpool art is always trying to turn rage into beauty. <…> The dominant fondness, as we’ll see, is for melody and a kind of populist Surrealism. It’s a place where everything and everyone has to have another name, as if vanilla reality were just too bland to bear.* (The Mersey Tunnel is, of course, the Mousehole.) So you come across pubs whose signs say one thing but which are called something else. <…> The KLF’s Bill Drummond,5 a Scot who’ll figure again in this tale, wrote of his time on Merseyside: ‘One of the things I always loved about living in Liverpool is that it never felt like you were living in England. The locals always considered themselves Liverpudlians above and beyond any nationality. Maybe this is because of the massive majority of its population being of Irish extraction and because, as a great seaport, the city had its sights set on the rest of the world and not on London, let alone such cultural backwaters as Manchester.’

Like Ireland - from where it acquired the habit, I think - Liverpool is notorious for the sentimentality of its exiles. Everyone knows of its celebrity sons and daughters, who’ll pay the place every compliment short of living there. But the people who stay here all their lives are usually just as passionate. Liverpool’s talent for self-mythologising is probably unequalled. A local brochure calls it ‘the Big Village at the Centre of the Universe’.

<...>

Actually, the widespread notion that the Beatles ‘turned their backs’ on Liverpool was a tribute to the magnificent insularity of Liverpudlians. They supposed that millionaire entertainers, with the world at their feet and every earthly delight to be sampled, would find the old place perfectly adequate for their needs. What did Belgravia, Manhattan and the Bahamas have that Allerton, Clayton Square and Seacombe didn’t?

(Liverpool - Wondrous Place by Paul Du Noyer, 2002)

Part (I), (II), (III), (IV), (V), (VI), (VII), (VIII), (IX), (X), (XI), (XII), (XIII), (XIV), (XV), (XVI), (XVII), (XVIII), (XIX), (XX), (XXI), (XXII)

*like this: "The club [Blue Angel], affectionately known as 'the Blue'…" (Bill Harry, Down At The Blue)

#paul du noyer #liverpool #bill harry #scouse

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theinstagrahame · 11 months ago

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It's been like 2 weeks? But I think the hiccup we had with the local Post Office kind of benefitted my collection here. That and a sale at Exalted Funeral...

Here's what's arrived in the last little bit:

The Slow Knife: I like Mousehole Press in general, but the pitch for this one in particular sticks out to me. You're a cabal of evil people who have deeply wronged someone, and they're coming for revenge. One by one, they kill each of you until their wrath is sated. I'm honestly always a little iffy on playing "Evil" characters, but this seems like a really neat way to tackle it.

Koriko: Also from Mousehole, this is meant to be a solo game in the vein of Kiki's Delivery Service and other quiet coming-of-age kinds of stories. It's also an absolutely beautiful book (and it came with the most adorable fat wizard cat patch...)

Star Crossed & Love Letters: I've heard stories and APs of Star Crossed, but never played it. Then there was an expansion coming, and it seemed like the right time to get myself a copy. The box is huge, I assume so I can store a Falling Tower game inside? I also often think about the creator, Alex Roberts, saying that the awards for this game have been nice, but that a couple who broke a chair after playing it is the real reward...

I Have the High Ground: I initially got this game from its crowdfund run after listening to the Party of One episode, but I spaced when it shipped and had it sent to my old Boston apartment. I never went back for it, but it was offered as a bonus on the Star Crossed expansion, so I decided it was time. (Also, there's a great Party of One episode that's a Star Crossed X IHTHG crossover, which is extremely worth checking out)

The Wildsea & The Wildsea - Storm and Root: I'd missed the original game, but the expansion caught my eye. The art and the vibe are weird and fun, but it's loosely a FitD engine under there. I skimmed through the Quickstart, and it felt really gripping. Weird guys sailing weird boats on the trees of a weird Earth future. The forest as a sea metaphor? I'm intrigued.

Nest: Spencer Campbell makes bangers. This is a long-time opinion of this blog, so Nest was a quick pick-up. It's set in his Destiny-like (I think?) Nova-verse, but it follows the bad guys. It's got Heist-y vibes, and I really like the idea of fleshing out the "Evil" team. It's too easy to assume the bad guys aren't people, and humanizing them does a lot.

Dusk, Vol1: Spencer Campbell makes Bange--oh, right. Already established. But still! Also a Nova-verse book, and one that I sorta missed. If I've read the pitch, it's about community within the Nova universe, and I like that that's a focus. People coming together to build communities is a theme I really enjoy, and when the sun explodes (yeah, that's what the Nova in Nova-verse means), I think we'll need people more than ever.

Eco Mofos: I really loved the universe created in Lost Eons, and this promised to be a loose prequel. It's a "weird-hope" game, which is loosely a description of why I love post-apocalyptic fiction. The idea that even in the worst possible outcome for the world (y'know, it ending), people come together to protect and help each other. That's what makes apocalyptica appealing.

Monster of the Week - Codex of Worlds Apocrypha: MotW is a well-established and really nicely designed game. I think I've only ever played it, but I honestly feel comfortable running it, because I've listened to so many APs and read so many of the materials. Apocrypha was the stretch goal collection for the Codex of Worlds expansion, which itself put a little of the best bits from FitD into the PbtA classic.

FIST: I backed the Kickstarter edition, but this was in Exalted Funeral's damaged section (I think for a slight creas on the cover?), so I wanted to grab it and see what the hype was about. Paranormal Mercenary action, is the game. I've heard nothing but good things, so it was an easy investment for me.

Haunted Almanac: Nate Treme is a name I've heard around the scene for a while, but hadn't really checked out until recently. In part because of the RTFM podcast episode about Tunnel Goons, which is included in this book. I don't want to admit that I'll just get anything that Max and Aaron tell me to get, but like... this book is great.

The Last Caravan: Backed this at the height of my FitD interest, and I'm really curious to see what's inside. Survivors of an alien attack in the titular caravan, traveling to survive and maybe fight back a little? Yeah. That sounds dope.

All Growed Up: Another EF impulse purchase, but partly because Reilly Qyote is a designer I've had really lovely interactions with and respect a lot. I hacked their game Cast Away into a Subnautica-themed survival crafting RPG. Kids playing as grown-ups seemed cute, so I wanted to check it out.

Heroes of Cerulea: I stumbled on this by accident back when I had some extra cash to spend, and it was 100% up my alley. The original Legend of Zelda is such a formative game for me that the nostalgia alone made me pick it up. It uses D4 and the pixel art throughout is impeccable. It feels a lot like skimming the manual of the original NES and SNES titles.

Details of Our Escape: Possible Worlds Games is one of those design outfits that's gotten the benefit of the doubt from me, so I had to pick this one up. Weird, artistic, and a neat backstory: It started asart pieces swapped by the artists, and later attached to a game by Tyler Crumrine. I think it's got heist energy, but I'm not sure so I'm curious to find out!

GoGoGolf!: An impulse add-on for the Details of Our Escape campaign, which looks like it's got that weird energy of some recent multiplayer golf games. I'm sold, and I'm checking it out.

Secutors of the Soundstage Sphere (for Troika!): This was a freebie for the recent EF sale, so I grabbed it. It's not really in my usual interests, but Free.99 is a great price!

Two Summers & Other Summers: I like games about people growing up, I'm realizing about myself. On a personal level, the idea that people can become different people, but remain the same intrigues me. Two Summers is about that, and I think Other Summers makes it weirder. So, excited to dive in.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #indie ttrpgs #RPG mail call

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