#subtle lore

[thescarletnargacuga]

BLOODED SKIES

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

AU credit @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

A/N: created in tandem with Ziku's incredible poster!

WARNING: nightmare imagery

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The music box was wound back. The key twisted until it could go no more. The music box sat open and played its beautiful melancholy tune. The music carried softly through silent halls.

Pomni opened her eyes. She stood in the center ring of an empty circus tent. Like the one we met Caine in but...it looked new. The tent was vibrant and the lights glowed bright. The only thing that seemed out of place was a single small golden sprig growing out of the ground. A single glowing leaf broke free and drifted away on unfelt wind.

Pomni watched the leaf fly towards the tent entrance, beyond which was darkness. She felt compelled to follow. Before she stepped beyond, she heard a whisper. Someone distant, yet familiar. "Don't go...please..."

She turned, but the circus was still empty. If a bit more dilapidated than the last time she looked. The colors were faded. The lights were dim.

After one more look around, she went beyond the threshold. Deep in the shadows she heard more whispers she did not know. A music box mixed with a long single tone sounded before silence.

Darkness gave way to pinks and violets. She stood on the surface of glass calm water. Pomni felt at peace here. At rest. The golden leaf flew around her, joined by a few others. They danced around like fireflies, illuminating her curious face.

The leaves moved faster, more erratically. The gold being juxtaposed with red veins. Suddenly, they shot up into the air out of sight. Pomni stared straight up, watching the leaves vanish into the ether above. After a moment of silence, the sky fractured.

The deep purple hues broke away to reveal a deep blood orange that burned into her. The water beneath her feet dried to cracked earth. Buildings and machines of war erupted from the ground around her. They emerged, rusted and fell apart rabidly. Some of these machines looked like people. Mannequins that could walk and talk. Their bodies disintegrated before her, reaching out in vain.

Pomni tried to back away, but something held her. A thin, near invisible string was around her wrist. She tried to pull away but her other wrist was restrained. Then her neck. Her legs. The bell around her neck felt heavy. Looking up, a ghostly hand marionettes her movements.

Her body moved without her say, no matter how hard she fought it. As she struggled, she heard more incoherent voices. Commands and questions and guesses. One word stood out to her. "Directive." Then thunder rolled through the sky. The sounds of machinery breaking. The strings loosened

She felt in control again, but barely. She tried to keep moving, nearly stumbling over a large broken crown. A soft squeak of a child's teddy bear toy came from underfoot, as she tried to avoid the hammer half buried in the ground. A broken blue charm laid to the side with the fragments of a porcelain mask and the ruined remnants of multiple arms.

Pomni couldn't speak, she could hardly breathe. She was being controlled and condemned and confused.

The broken and scorched earth floated apart like pieces of debris and space. She was isolated with the multitude of items at her feet. From the items, oozed a gelatinous black substance. It coagulated and crawled across the ground like vines.

Pomni had nowhere to go, and she was afraid. The black veins stuck to her and climbed her body. Simultaneously, she began to sink into the ground. The items around her closing in. The black veins restrained her more than the strings ever did. Her legs were immobile as she sunk to her knees. She could not lift her arms as the black veins connected her wrists to the heavy items.

The ghostly hand above her tried to pull her back. She felt its resistance but the veins were stronger as she continued to sink. The veins climbed her neck, making their way to her bright hazel eye. She gasped, seeing flashes of faces and places of a time gone by. A city not ravaged by time or war. A warm hand to hold. A man's whispered love.

She sank up to her chest. Her eyes stared wide at the sky, invaded by it. Consumed by it. Body and soul. Only her head remained above the swallowing earth. The ghostly hand never gave up, choking her. She was pressed in on all sides by the littered items mixed with the black veins.

As the world around her went black, she jolted awake. Her legs kicked out at open air as she oriented herself. She was in her room, sitting in a sofa chair. It was near sundown, the sky a rich mix of violets, reds and oranges. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She had no words for what just happened, not even an expletive.

A gentle knock at her door broke the silence. "Pomni..? You in there?" Caine's voice gently asked. "Haven't seen you in a few hours, been awfully quiet. May I come in?"

When he didn't receive an immediate "Fuck off," he entered. Seeing her so still, worried him. "Hey...something wrong?" He moved over to her, sitting on the ottoman in front of her.

"I...don't know..." Pomni slowly answered, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Caine wanted nothing more than to pull her into him. Tell her everything was alright. He leaned forward, matching her pose. His hands lightly clasped together. "Is there anything I can do?" His fingers twitched towards hers as she moved.

Pomni sat upright and ran her hand through her hair, taking out her ponytail. Her longer back hair draped over her shoulders. "I don't know." She gazed into his concerned eyes. She really didn't know if he could help her or even understand what she was feeling. Not that she was ready to share. She had to think on things more.

Caine couldn't resist anymore. Pomni was in some sort of distress, even if she wasn't outwardly showing it. He carefully reached out and took her hand. "Whatever you need, I'm right here."

She felt it. The warmth. Still so new to her. She closed her hand around his to feel more of it. It was rather nice. She was looking so closely into his eyes she completely missed the fact that the key crank on the back of his head was missing.

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Carry me home

[kaninekodiak]

"Zhis is unacceptable - cavities!! Not in MY ranks!!"

Dr. E. L. Clemens, RED medic and certified freakazoid bird. he's been my brainworm for two weeks.

his playlist:

some more fun facts which couldn't fit on the sheet:

- gay (:

- "he/him" but sometimes prefers "it."

- probably autistic, probably self-diagnosed.

- i cannot overstate how obsessed this man is with teeth. it's borderline fetishistic. if any of his mammalian colleages don't take proper care of their teeth he will often force them into "emergency" dental procedures. usually just a cleaning, which he's shockingly good at, but he will spend the entire time frantically chastising the patient for "squandering their gift." he takes great pride in his dental work, far moreso than his surgical ventures. it's his passion vs. his job. (most definitely a hyperfixation.)

- he prefers travelling by car to flying after a traumatic experience when he was a youngster - when he was fledging, he was hit out of the sky by something and broke one of his wings. he can still fly, but avoids it unless absolutely possible. he's developed very strong legs as a result.

- bit of a motor enthusiast. he owns a red-and-cream 1933 Duesenberg SJ which he has nicknamed "Imogene." she is his pride and joy. he always dresses up in old-timey driving gear whenever he takes her for a spin.

- pretty much still lives in the 50s.

- did NOT lose his medical license, he just likes to joke about it to scare his patients. (whether he'll retain it after the Gravel Wars is another story, but RED does a good job of covering up his breaches of the hippocratic oath.)

- always has classical music and jazz playing in the infirmary.

- gave his Sniper (the only other avian on his team) a set of teeth just like his. less out of necessity and just because he thinks more birds should have them.

- LOVES crime novels, reads every night before bed. has a large collection of pulp krimi magazines from the 50s in their little plastic dust covers.

- also collects wet specimens of animals with birth defects. he collects a lot of things.

- least favourite medical procedure is anything involving broken bones - reminds him of bad things.

- he can spit his stomach acid as a defense mechanism. he doesn't like to do this since it's painful, but he absolutely will as a last resort.

- sadistic streak, naturally. switches from docile to dangerous in a moment's notice, usually on the battlefield.

- actually treats his team pretty well and with a level of professionalism - saves (most of) his crazy experiments for enemy prisoners and cadavers.

- knows too much.

he's part of a furry AU of mine, so expect more animal mercs soon (:

[comically-blu]

edited: bruises TW!!

cycle of leaving the nest

[cotrieu]

hi vamily i have vtm brain rot again sooo this is my oh see fiammetta ciriaco anastasia palaiologina my lasombra ventrue who's totally not a sabbat emissary she was originally for the vtmb storyline but i decided to make her a stand off character so :) yayyyy

[shepscapades]

A break from our regularly scheduled programming: a DBHC Docm77 reference sheet!

This is something I’d like to do for all of the androids as I get more familiar with their designs and story, so I don’t know how long it’ll be until all of the androids are done, but for now, here’s a little bit of a peek into my thought process behind doc’s design! His never-before-seen Pre-Deviancy design was both incredibly fun and incredibly disorienting bc for real who is that man DBJCGHK but he’s also kinda fun to draw =w= So I may do some Beginning of S8 doodles or comics at some point for fun :3

[ofbardsandmen]

tHE collection of the ragbros birthday arts.

[quiddie]

Here's the audio I sent Will that played at 2:31:35 [YT] since it was a little hard to parse in-stream.

“I think often about our game. It’s all one game in the end, I think. The only one that matters, at least.

But in the penthouse, my blunder - I prefer fianchettoed bishops, flanking to disrupt the center of the board. I know you know that. But, for whatever reason, I opened this time with my knight - a knight instead, and all of my play thereafter was changed. I let you make me risky, and I lost. But I only bring this up here, because I’m still feeling risky. Or maybe I owe you a better prize for your victory last night.

Garavellir, I...nevermind."

[mace-of-hearts]

Blocktales demo 4 spoilers + blood!!

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WE SHALL BE REUNITED IN THE ARMS OF THE ANCIENTS ONCE MORE. ONE DAY.

[enderwoah]

correct me if i'm wrong but i think martyn has been implying that fantasy martyn (f!martyn?) was kicked out of dragon land for getting on the nerves of his kin and was unceremoniously flung to the ground, which begs the question- is that how he lost his wings??? they violently took away his ability to fly and dropkicked him off of cloudsdale??? hello??? i am never getting over the hope in his voice when sausage said that they could maybe find out a way to get his wings back with magic, nor am i forgetting how. like. genuinely nervous he sounded when approaching sausage's dragon like AUGHHHH WHAT HAPPENED TO HIMMM

[olessan]

[justabeewithapen]

Just a quick question related to your AU but have Doey ever befriend any of the ex employees?

If I am understanding you correctly (and please feel free to let me know through asks!) but I think you are asking if he was ever actually friends with the employees who showed him sympathy before they got reassigned/fired. I don't think anyone was left with him long enough for a proper friendship to develop. The first few times (before they started really cracking down on it) he did get somewhat comfortable around a few scientists, but his outbursts often caused injury so even the most sympathetic worker kept an amount of distance. After an incident where a scientist didn't fully shut the door before coming in while Doey was having a break down (they were worried for him) and he made a break for it out the door, Playtime Co. decided it was a liability. Doey was too independent to train like Yarnaby through "affection" anyway, and his instability meant even if an emotional connection was established, he might accidentally kill his handler anyway. By the time he had himself in control enough that theoretically a human handler would work, he already had a reputation and the occasional pity toy or blanket or meal is all he gets and he is generally wary of those because basically any adult who was nice to him would disappear.

[lorelune]

roommate fem ness tries to seduce you for months btw. cute pajama sets (really more like lingerie). silky short robes. offers to do your nails, and later your skincare for you. she invites you for a movie night then confesses she has a projector in her room and it would be sooooo much comfier watching in her bed then on the couch, right?

[officialoddswapau]

hello Vanessa I was wondering what you favorite hobbies are if your parents allow you two have some? also who is your favorite drone?

and also serial designation T what was your job at Vanessa’s manor before the gala slaughter happened? Also what do you think about cyn are you friends with her or do you not get along with her?

hope you have a great day Vanessa and Serial designation T.also I hope you both enjoy the questions.

Vanessa’s answer:

T’s answer below cut (eyestrain warning.)

…

Have a nice day/night : )

[canisalbus]

do their tails wag when they're happy to see each other?

Of course! It'd be such a waste to have dog people with perfectly good tails and not have them reflect their emotions.

The way I see it, tail wagging is a lot like smiling or laughing, it's innate to the species, even babies know how to do it and it's meaning is the same across cultures. When it's genuine it happens instinctually, but if you really need to, you can try to force or supress it. Whether or not it's proper etiquette to wag your tail depends on the situation, it's a normal part of socialization between friends for example, but on formal surroundings you're expected to show modesty and have enough restraint to control your emotions.

[nothin-purrsonal]

World’s worst nuclear family except I made them cats because I can