#(sin-ged)

[theseekeroftruth]

The forest around them fell silent, absorbing the sounds of their voices, as if the sky and earth were holding their breath, listening to what was about to happen. Claire stood before Jamie, feeling the cold seep into her fingers, but he, as always, was the first to embrace her hands with his, wrapping her in his warm palms as if to block the fear and despair that had taken hold of her heart. He looked at her as though he was trying to memorize every line, every feature of her face, to carry her image with him into eternity.

"Ye must go, Sassenach," he said softly, his voice holding such strength that the mountains themselves might tremble. "Feumaidh tu falbh, a’ bhana-choigreach. You must return to yer own time. Here, there's naught left for ye but darkness and war."

Claire looked at him, struggling with despair, with the force that seemed to draw her back to the stones. She did not want to leave him; she could not bear the thought of abandoning him to face a battle that would erase his presence from this world.

"I can't leave you, Jamie," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You are my life, my love, my light. I want to stay with you, even if it means the end."

He touched her cheek, running his warm hand over her face as if trying to wipe away her tears and at the same time remember the feel of her skin. Sadness flashed in his eyes, deep as the very ocean that would separate them. But Jamie would not allow himself to show weakness, understanding that his strength was her only anchor now.

"Ye must live for both of us, Claire," he said, his voice quiet but as firm as granite. "Fiù ged a tha sin a’ ciallachadh gum feum thu falbh. I need to ken that ye’ll be safe, that ye’ll live, breathe, despite all that lies ahead for me here. Air ar son fhèin, airson ar pàiste."

Her soul resisted. She tried to hold back, but tears rolled down her cheeks anyway. Claire reached for him as if lost in a desert, yearning for the last drop of water. But he continued to warm her hands, his fingers like an anchor, holding her in the moment, keeping her steady.

"I'll wait for you," she whispered, almost soundlessly, like a prayer sent to him and to fate. "In every moment, in every life. We will meet again. Come back to me, soldier."

Jamie released her hands but then embraced her shoulders one last time, pulling her close, as though his embrace could tear through the very fabric of time and space, saving them both from the inevitable. Then, slowly, carefully, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a final kiss, full of despair, love, and forgiveness that would not die, even in the face of death.

"I will find ye, Sassenach," he said, letting her go, his voice steady and strong as the mountains surrounding them. "Ann an saoghal sam bith, ann an àm sam bith. Bidh mi gad shireadh gus an ruig mi ort a-rithist. Gus am faigh sinn a chèile."

[qoldenskies]

poverty au alternate names:

Empty Pockets

Sleep is for those with money

Fuck Coffee is expensive

giggles cause i got a name idea (thank you for the crane wives and thank you specifically that person who recommended mad dog to me. ive taken to calling it the kickback universe in my head so i guess that's what its called now) but that is definitely a vibe. i bet they splurged on that coffee machine soooo hard but they have like dollar store grounds and it tastes like shit and no creamer could save it. donnie drinks it black anyway which is a sin

its not like i could call it the "donnie is the only one with college opportunities because mikey is barely skirting by with Cs, leo had to drop out because unmedicated adhd, and raph skipped most opportunities for higher education especially with sports to focus on providing for the family, so donnie's doing running start while also working a job because his father's dercums progressed to a point where he cant even really go outside without being in immense pain because they dont have enough money or insurance to afford any real care (and no extended family to fall back on because splinter was cut off from them, other than a cousin across the country) and rely on april to drive them around, and then the landlord unexpectedly raises rent in an attempt to get them out and donnie because he's taken on the job of managing their finances decides to hide this from them and start working a SECOND job under the table that includes the fucking graveyard shift with a boss that barely pays him enough under the table and its partially because he's blasian AND trans, and this is also while he's going to running start college, while having a job to go to right after running start college, and also he has to worry about tutoring mikey and helping leo get a GED and groceries and like everything because he doesn't want to put more undue stress on raph who is the only line of support he would normally have here" au. although maybe it would be funny if i did?

i got carried away when making the joke. there's the premise i guess. i'll probably just write one big oneshot but because all of them have Prablems maybe i'll expand a little, right now im keeping the scope small so dont expect anything for a while since i have so much to do atm, i'll talk about if people want to hear more though! .... i did not expect to get as invested as i did. CANARY CONTINUITY FIRST

[landslided]

we're leaving the earth (and you're not coming) by evanaissante for @sinful-karateka

Tory doesn’t care about university, she really doesn’t and Sam knows this because she was there when Tory refused the GED course and college scholarship in Minnesota post Sekai Taikai victory. Tory was right too, university isn’t right for her, it’s not what she wants or what she needs and maybe people need to stop caring so much about furthering education on the only basis of validating their intelligence. Tory’s smarter than half of the people Sam meets every day in class, she’s got more drive, a quicker wit, and she’s just so smart. Sam, on the other hand, has never felt more herself than making stuff with her hands and the absolute joy she’d felt when her mini propeller plane had lifted off the ground at MIT's first-day demonstration had erased any doubt she had left of her place there. With all of that in mind, there is not a single reason why she and Tory are on opposite debate teams.

here is a post high school fanfic full of messy lesbian feelings, awkward conversations between friends and nerds falling in love! happy christmas, sinful-karateka!

[ @cksecretsanta ]

[sleepyhouse2art]

its so fucking crazy that orderlies wear badges that say 'mental health tech' when most of those jobs only require a fucking high school diploma or a 1 to 2 year certificate. this is who theyre comfortable entrusting SICK VULNERABLE TRAPPED HURTING PEOPLE TO. these stupid, cruel, disgusting FUCKS!

this is not an educational thing so preemptively shut the fuck up please, i got my ged at 21 and passed retroactively by 1 point because they lowered the math score requirement. i think the us education system is pathetic and college is a scam. but i also think its SO FUCKING RIDICULOUS THAT THEY LET THESE BRAINLESS FUCKING MONSTERS ABUSE US DAY IN DAY OUT WITHOUT RESPITE AND TREAT US LIKE FUCKING ANIMALS. no sympathy, no empathy, zero calm, zero understanding, negative kindness. just power trips and cruelty and you are trapped there in that building with them. every. fucking. day.

and thats not even talking about the staggering number of more educated mental health professionals like therapists, psychs, fucking NURSE PRACTITIONERS WHO HAVE NO BUSINESS PRESCRIBING PEOPLE SHIT, ETC ETC ETC. THE WHOLE SYSTEM IS FUCKED, INCOMPETENT, ABUSIVE AND MONSTROUS. i hate that i am forced to submit to it. i hate that i need it to keep myself out of the hospital more often than in. if i didnt take medicine i would lose my family and my everything. i wouldnt be able to function. i know that. i know that. i know that. i know that. im sick. i know that im sick. I FUCKING KNOW.

FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKERS. FUCK ALL OF YOU. THE THINGS YOU DO ARE SINFUL AND UNFORGIVABLE AND YOU ARE AN IRREDEEMABLE ANIMAL ONLY SATAN COULD FUCKING CREATE.

i dont believe in a hell but if there is one YOU WILL ALL ROT THERE YOU MISERABLE FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. YOU FUCKED ME UP. I STILL HAVE BRUISES FROM YOU HOLDING ME DOWN. IM STILL FUCKED UP. I GOT HOME A WEEK AGO AND IM HAVING FLASHBACKS EVERY DAY BECAUSE OF YOU. BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME. BECAUSE YOU TREATED ME LIKE I WASNT HUMAN AND NOW I DONT FEEL LIKE ONE ANYMORE.

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!!!!!

[fluoresensitives]

👋🏼 re: book recommendations- What are 3-5 books you’ve read in the past few years that you find yourself still thinking about and mentally coming back to? Ones that linger

Oooh! Good question! So, just from 2023 to now, I'd say:

Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, for all the obvious reasons. It's just so timely.

Tehanu by Ursula K. Le Guin: if I think too much about Tenar and Tehanu and Ged, my brain starts fizzing. In a good way.

Go Tell it On the Mountain by James Baldwin: Story about Black Christianity and gayness and desire And sin and oh. He wrote this one for me, he just didn't know it.

[comicalarchitect]

Samantha Reads Comics: Digressions on David #70

Time to wrap up this season's coverage of Young Justice by going through the issues leading up to, and then comprising, the Sins of Youth crossover.

I like that Tim can take notes well!

it's so weird that this was the status quo for so long

DC already had a specific setup about the Aztec gods--I wonder if PAD was making this character with Aztek, the Ultimate Man and Mah-Ged-Dun in mind?

...oof. Like i said, Secret is all rough chuckles.

lmao

owned

I really love that Cassie is the one who gets this moment--very much feels like her coming into her own as a character.

fuckin love this asshole

please don't tell me I'm going to have to spend any amount of time at all thinking about, or looking at, the DC character Anarky. Oy.

get his ASS, Red

yeah, this is really bringing to the fore the school-shooter anxiety that's been on the back burner of this whole series to date, huh? (The character Harm is also very much an expression of that anxiety, I think.)

this is the exact level of respect that this era of the Titans should be receiving, yes.

Todd Nauck signed on to the series just on the promise that he could draw THIS specific spread, I bet.

WHY DO COMICS WRITERS THINK THIS IS HOW CHILDREN TALK

gonna just skim the tie-in issues unless one really grabs me, since this is a post series about Peter David and they're not by him.

lmao

hey, classic Bob Haney Titans story retold, neat!

love the Nick Cardy tribute!

wholesome!

grody!

lmao

biggest possible oof!

[gallavich-gunk]

List of time fiona cries in Shameless(US):

Season 1 episode 8 "its time to kill the turtle" fiona is forced to work at a sports bar where she is objectified

Season 1 episode 9 "but at last came a knock" fiona is confronted with the first return of Monica and makes the point she was left to mother her children when she needed a mother herself

Season 2 episode 4 "a beautiful mess" goes to toilet after Craig heissener and wife come to the Gallaghers, not fully clear why she cries maybe as she's sad she let Debbie down with her party or she feels bad about sleeping with a married man

Season 2 episode 10 "a great cause"

She was relying on Monica to help with the family while she got her GED and started doing things for herself but realising after Monica crashed a car and stole the squirrel fund this wasn't going to work

Season 2 episode 12 "fiona interrupted" the fallout of Monica trying to kill herself

Season 3 episode 5 "the sins of my caretaker" Jimmy and fiona got into a fight because Jimmy got so upset his dad was gay and kept complaining while fiona had to dig up a body and then Jimmy left

Season 3 episode 6 "cascading failures"

The kids have been taken by dcfs

Season 3 episode 12 "survival of the fittest" Steve has left her and she just had to tell Frank he was dying because of alcohol and needs to keep himself alive for his kids

Season 4 episode 5 "there's the rub"

Fiona was just arrested after Liam got into her coke

Season 4 episode 6 "iron city"

Fiona is checked in at prison and again when on phone to lip about how Liam was harmed in the overdose

Season 4 episode 8 "hope springs paternal" everyone has left fiona alone in the house as she pissed everyone off especially lip who blames her for what happened to liam

Season 4 episode 9 "legend of bonnie and carl" fiona struggles to get a job and after being rejected by the cuppers goes and blames that dickhead brother guy

Season 4 episode 10 "Liver I hardly know her" fiona got stuck in sheboiagain and feels bad for fucking things up

Season 5 episode 6 "crazy love" had a long run of no tears but then Jimmy Steve returns and she cheats on husband gus with him

Season 6 episode 3 "the F word" fiona cries several times due to hormones but also dealing with a lot of family drama, dealing with the fallout of her marriage and navigating shawn having come off the wagon

Season 6 episode 9 "a yurt of ones own" after Shawn's son finds Carl's gun and he potentially loses custody he blames it on fiona and they temporarily break up

Season 6 episode 12 "familia supra gallegorious omnia!" Frank reveals shawn is still using heroine at fiona and Shawn's wedding and then shawn walks out on her

Season 7 episode 8 "you sold me the laundromat, remember?" Fiona has a hysterical breakdown whilst trying to fix the laundromat and everything going wrong at once

Season 7 episode 11 "happily ever after" fiona has to put etta in assisted living (honestly RIP Etta so was such a great character)

Season 7 episode 12 "requiem for a slut" She tears up a bit at Monica's funeral

Season 8 episode 6/7 "face it youre gorgeous"/"going down like the titanic" probably one of fionas biggest breakdowns of the whole series, she doesn't have lunch money, basically ford's a dickhead she looses all her money, her car and her apartment building and misses Ian going into prison

Then she leaves in the next few episodes and probably cries then too? If she does I missed it lol

Also please appreciate this data I gathered for no reason other than I wanted to✨️

[jellhound]

put ur bear on the phone i wanna ask a question!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sin(42069)2 + cos(42069)2

unfortunately i cannot do this bit because i dont even know how i would put that into a calculator to find the answer ajgdsjkgsj

she knows it, though! i am just not familiar with sins and coses (did they cover that in highschool or something, i got my GED instead lmao)

[sarasade]

Part of me almost hopes that Viren's story arc will end in a disproportionately cruel way, you know.

I'm just so tired of seeing a character doing one good thing before they die or trying to change before they die and instead of the audience taking that as purposeful ambiguity the discussion will center around if the character was "Redeemed".

But imagine if he was punished so harshly that even the Viren haters would feel bad for him. Now that would be interesting! I've seen some dark speculation around season 5 so I'm looking forward to seeing how the show will contextualise his arc.

I don't understand why "Redemption" is such a popular talking point when centering villains (ok I actually do. I'm looking at you, Zuko).

"Sin and Atonement" and "Redemption" are deeply Christian themes. I don't think those should be a universal frame of reference to all stories.

Yes, yes, this is more of a fandom problem, not a show problem. But if people want to see a bad character harshly punished for their crimes maybe they should get that for once. I don't really mind because I think Viren, while unlikeable, is a sympathetic character already. Of course I feel for a character even if they are "irredeemable". That's what stories are for.

I don't mean it's a completely useless way to look at art but it's just- I don't know- I'm bored? Especially YouTube commentators talk about redemption constantly instead of engaging with the themes that actually are there.

Sometimes villains can't even really make up for everything they have done, just like some people in real life. Viren has committed so many crimes- like how do you even fix that? However it'd still be interesting if he tried to change. That's what I'm here for. Like Viren and Claudia are not just an antagonistic counterforce to our heros but they have a lot of going on as unique characters.

Viren has his saviour complex and values domination over cooperation. Claudia is interesting because she's both the victim and the perpetrator. It's interesting how self-sufficient she is while being deeply emotionally codependent on Viren. She has a ton of agency as a physically (magically?) strong person but not a ton of agency as an independent, emotionally strong individual. Viren and Claudia love each other but it's isolating kind of love where they don't really have anyone else but each other (Terry is really trying to get in there. Like sorry Terry you don't know how fucked up these two are lmao).

No wonder it was so easy to Aaravos take Viren's place as an authority figure in Claudia's life after Viren died. Or at least that's what I took away from Lost Child short and TDP season 4 in general.

I still think about the first information we got outside Viren and Claudia's POV about Aaravos's mirror: Runaan's warning about "A Fate Worse Than Death".

This framing device sounds really important. I've been wondering how it'll play out eventually. Is it something about Viren losing his old life he worked so hard to build, or will he lose Claudia in some metaphorical or literal way? Is it something even more personal?

Personally, I'd love to see Viren live and change as a person. There are plenty of high-fantasy male characters like him who go through that kind of transformation: Guts from Berserk, Geralt of Rivia, Jaime from GoT, Ged the Wizard... You know, characters who realise that the things they value are unsustainable or even harmful to themselves and to people around them and even to the world as a whole. Or they realise that superficial things like status and power are unfulfilling and only serve status quo. There are some parallels to toxic masculinity/ hegemonic masculinity, too.

However, I think it'd be interesting if Viren's story will be a deeply tragic one. Anyway I'm here for this.

[mitchiecohen]

"I GET TOO CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT"

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Michelle Lorraine Cohen

NICKNAME(S): Mitchie

LABEL: The Phoenix

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis Female {She/Her}

HERITAGE: Polish, Russian, German, Lithuanian, Jewish, Scottish and Irish

AGE: 26

BIRTHDAY: March 17, 1999

ZODIAC: Pisces Sun, Aries Moon, Virgo Rising

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

OCCUPATION: Psychiatric Nurse @ Lexington University Hospital | Co-Host of Off-Script

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Mikey Madison HEIGHT: 5'3" WEIGHT: 114 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Left HAIR COLOR: Black w/ pink tinsel EYE COLOR: Brown SCARS: None notable TATTOOS: Leg garter tattoo on left thigh, fine line butterfly on her right wrist

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Clever, Independent, Free-Spirited NEGATIVE TRAITS: Brash, Cut-throat, Detached LIKES: Last minute trips, skinny dipping with strangers, mochi donuts, Sunday matinees DISLIKES: Being talked-down to, Being bumped into on the street, people who don't dance at a club, when people cut her off in traffic

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: None DISORDERS: BPD, Bipolar II (medically managed - inconsistent) ALLERGIES: None

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Edison, NJ CURRENT RESIDENCE: Brooklyn, NY. EDUCATION LEVEL: GED; BA in Nursing from Hunter College FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Mabel Cohn, 55, mother, not-in-contact - Bryant Cohen, 65, father, not-in-contact

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Pan-seared scallops DRINK: White Wine MOVIE: The Hangover TV SHOW: Queen's Gambit BAND/ARTIST: Halsey, The1975, Arctic Monkeys SONG: Lilith - Halsey

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: ESFP ENNEAGRAM: The Nonconformist (8w7) TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral SIN: Lust VIRTUE: Diligence ELEMENT: Fire CHARACTER PLAYLIST

UP NEXT: “LILITH” BY HALSEY

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: death, exotic dancing

With a smirk that can charm or challenge and a voice that cuts through silence like truth in a crowded room, Michelle “Mitchie” Cohen has always lived in the in-between - between polish and grit, survival and success, secrecy and defiance. She doesn't just bend expectations - she snaps them clean in half. Born and raised in Edison, New Jersey, Mitchie grew up knowing how to navigate contradiction. She was the daughter of a sharp-witted single mother who worked long hours and gave her fire in the blood. But Mitchie’s eyes were always turned toward the skyline - she'd hop the train into Manhattan whenever she could (against her mother's wishes), chasing noise, lights, and freedom before she even fully understood what she was looking for. When her mother passed away unexpectedly during Mitchie’s early teens, she was taken in by her biological father - a man she barely knew, who lived in the pristine wealth of Sunnyview Valley, North Carolina. Suddenly, she was surrounded by generational privilege, hushed expectations, and an entirely unfamiliar kind of control. Raised in luxury but born of survival, Mitchie learned to walk a line between good manners and sharp rebellion. While her father wanted a polished heiress, Mitchie had other plans - plans that involved back exits, scraped knuckles, and a fierce loyalty to the parts of herself no one could buy. After high school, she bolted back north with a suitcase, a chip on her shoulder, and a dream of forging her own path. She tried acting, bartending, waiting tables - anything to stay afloat in Brooklyn. When rent stacked up and the world felt too heavy, she took a job as an exotic dancer - a choice made out of necessity, but also autonomy. The stage gave her something nothing else had: control of her body, her image, and her power. It was under neon lights that she found her voice - and her calling. Alongside her best friend, she co-created the podcast Off Script - a smart, unfiltered, and often hilarious chronicle of life behind the stage lights. The show took off, gaining a loyal following and cementing Mitchie as more than just another small-town girl with big dreams - she was a storyteller with bite. Through sleepless nights and stacked shifts, laughter and nostalgic stories, Mitchie put herself through nursing school, graduating with honors from Hunter College. Now, she’s a psychiatric nurse at Lexington University Hospital in Manhattan, specializing in psychiatric care and crisis stabilization. Her patients trust her because she doesn’t pretend - because she sees people exactly where they are and doesn’t flinch. She brings street-smarts and science, compassion and steel. She knows how to de-escalate a manic episode just as easily as she used to deconstruct a man’s assumptions with a look.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HER!

At first glance, Mitchie Cohen is the embodiment of chaotic charm. She's that girl in the bar with the tight dress, tinsel in her hair, and a grin that says she knows something you don’t - and she probably does. Her laugh is loud, her heels are high, and her confidence is palpable. Whether she’s tossing out zingers on her podcast or holding court behind the bar, Mitchie draws people in like a flame. She’s incredibly clever, quick-witted, and always has a line ready - be it flirtatious, cutting, or deeply insightful. There’s a natural magnetism to her, fueled not just by looks or style, but by the sense that she’s real in a world full of pretense. Beneath the glitter and bravado lies someone deeply layered. Mitchie is courageous, not just in the way she stands up to people or breaks the rules, but in how she owns her past. She’s not afraid to talk about her time as an exotic dancer, her struggles in Hollywood, or her complicated upbringing. Vulnerability doesn’t scare her - it’s another form of power. That said, Mitchie doesn't like being boxed in, and she especially hates being underestimated. Her rebelliousness stems from a long history of people trying to tell her who she should be - from wealthy relatives grooming her for high society, to talent agents trying to make her palatable for casting calls. Every rule she breaks, every norm she defies, is a quiet act of self-definition. Mitchie is brazenly social, thrives on connection, and loves a good conversation - especially if it’s inappropriate, unexpected, or slightly dangerous. She’s flirtatious, but not in a way that seeks validation - it’s more a game, a dance, and a method of control. She can be a little bit of a provocateur, not because she wants attention, but because she wants reaction. She’s testing the world constantly, seeing where the cracks are. Despite her edge, she’s loyal to the bone. If she lets you in, you’re in for life. She will ride or die for her people, even if she shows it by roasting you until you cry or threatening your ex with a flaming shot glass. Her love is fierce, messy, and unconditional. Mitchie is emotionally intelligent but sometimes emotionally impulsive. She feels deeply but doesn’t always process those feelings before acting. Her brashness can come across as hot-headedness, especially when her accent starts slipping back in- a dead giveaway that she’s about to raise hell. She’s self-aware, but not always self-forgiving. Mitchie can be her own harshest critic, especially when she thinks she’s let someone down. Her tough exterior hides old wounds - of loss, rejection, and never quite belonging. But she refuses to play the victim. Instead, she’s channeled those scars into resilience, humor, and rebellion. Mitchie struggles with authority and hypocrisy. She’s quick to call out injustice, but sometimes slow to consider how her own reactions might escalate a situation. Her instinct to fight first and process later can get her into trouble - but it also makes her an incredible protector of the underdog and her patients. She’s learning - slowly - that not every battle is hers to fight, and not every fight needs to be won with fists (literal or metaphorical). Her growth lies in softening without losing her strength, in letting people support her without feeling like she’s giving up control.

HEADCANONS

She twirls her rings when she’s thinking.

Carries a small pocketknife even though she insists she’s “too pretty to stab someone.”

Keeps her mother’s old locket on her at all times, hidden under her shirt.

Often speaks in metaphor, usually involving fire, storms, or gambling.

Gets annoyed when people assume she’s all style and no substance - though she’ll never admit it hurts.

She always keeps hot sauce in her purse.

She gives her houseplants names based on dead soap opera characters.

She owns a cursed tiara from a thrift store in Flushing.

She has a “burn book” for all her hook-ups/dates, but it’s written like Yelp reviews.

[outlcws]

𝖎'𝖒 𝖆 𝖜𝖆𝐤𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖉𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉. pinterest ♡ stats

trigger warnings: abuse, neglect, suicide attempt / psychotic break, mental illness

HEY, i think i just saw ATTICUS PALLAS-DEXICOS walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the THIRTY-ONE YEAR OLD is working as a FIRST CHAIR CELLOIST OF THE PARIS PHILHARMONIC AND SOMMELIER AT A LOCAL VINEYARD AND WINERY and lives in THE MIRAGE HOTEL. given they are PLACID but MISANTHROPIC, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to TEETH BY DEAD AND DIVINE and you’ll know why they’re called THE MIRABILIS LIBER.  ☾ .⭒˚ emerson barrett. cis man + he/him. demisexual grayromantic + aquarius. 

the second-oldest of a family of seven siblings in a single mother household with an off-again on-again with his stepfather (unmarried). he was the same age as a set of triplets, annaki, freya, and aourora

when child protective services were called, they relocated the kids to manchester, england to go into foster care. the timid, shy kid with little to say that always hid behind his brother and played with imaginary friends, the bookworm fostered concerning signs of psychosis at a young age that fraught cyrek with worry

he was taken in by a loving foster family, the moschettis, at twelve years of age and moved from england to new york city with his sisters, freya and annaki

a timid kid who floundered to focus on classes and struggled with english was a prime target for bullying in school, especially by unkind jocks. the fine arts always enticed him more than higher education. he took band after school and frequently flunked testing grades because he was too preoccupied with doodling on the papers

over time, other issues cropped up, like episodes where his brain felt as if it were uncontrollably on fire and distracted by voices and sounds that weren't really there. though it was the short list in a long book, he had a doting family who sent him to therapy, where he was given a diagnosis for schizophrenia comorbid with catatonia

when he was sixteen, he made the decision to drop out of high school legally and leave nyc to travel a few places in europe alongside his brother. while he was on his travels, he fell in love with france, and he decided to stay behind and finish the equivalent of a GED

with hard work, practice, and a slew of odd jobs, he earned himself a place on the philharmonie de paris, as he always dreamed, and climbed the ladder to first chair cello with prodigy that his peers were envious of

the arduous work of proving himself was a welcome distraction from the rock bottom he'd found in his mental health, or the lowest at the time, saddled with a mutism episode that lasted for two years where he didn't speak a word to anyone verbally and had to learn french sign language to communicate

at the beginning of 2016, he suffered a severe psychotic break after putting her to rest with his family. following a suicide attempt where he was unaware of the gravitas of his actions, he triggered an underlying heart condition that led to congestive heart failure. after a psychiatric eval recommended that he should no longer live alone, and the need for a place to stay under intensive supervision following his heart transplant for the next six months, he was sent home to his family in nyc on medical leave

the news of his mother eliana's death brought him back to nyc to settle matters with the funeral, and agreed to stay in las vegas for a while to help annaki's move from the city. his earnings between that and what he'd saved in the philharmonic helped him to put down money on his first house in mont saint-michel, france, a little townhouse in a commune that sequesters itself from the mainland, but he plans to split his time between france and sin city

he owns a collection of knives for self-defense, has an extremely high IQ and an exceptionally advanced syntax to overcompensate for his language barrier, and his favorite medium of art is pottery. although cello is his primary instrument, he can also play the violin and the harp. he is extremely germaphobic since his heart transplant and does not, and has never, liked children all that much.

really kind of a hippie type who wears flowers in his hair and a wardrobe of eccentric hats, laidback and introverted. loves being in nature and going on hikes, setting up canvases at scenic spots and painting everything. he'd probably go to woodstock if there wasn't so many people, or burning man

[amonrawya]

2nd of October: Light / An dàrna latha dhen Dàmhair: Solas

English Translation:

Thorin knew beauty, perfection, could recognise the mark of true craftsmanship with ease. Though still young in the years of Dwarves, he studied at the side of their greatest smiths, deep in the halls of Erebor before the dragon came, and learnt the true meaning of creation.

The forges of Men lacked skill and care; working on them brought him no satisfaction, only a pittance in his hand and scorn on the road. Reaching the Blue Mountains was a relief to his people and to Thorin but they did not relish to live on the charity of others.

Their prince would not forget the glory and honour they came from. They established halls of their own in the west and raised themselves out of ruin, enough that many among Thorin's folk lost all desire to seek for their lost homeland again.

For their sake, and the sake of his siblings, Thorin spoke little of it - choosing to look ahead rather than live looking back. It did not stop the dreams or the memories, nor quell his anger. Never again will we be beggars, turned from the door like animals.

Oft did Thorin go among their smiths, seeking the familiarity of a hammer in the hand and the heat of the fire on his face.

But eyes the light of the Arkenstone had seen could not easily forget its radiance, nor find equal in dull and dusty gems. In his dreams, it lay buried beneath the dragon's paws, forever in the dark within walls once strewn with firelight.

The Arkenstone. The heart of the mountain, they called it. He held its light closely, tightly, and allowed his hope to live on in its glow.

(Sorry this one is shorter, I'm working tonight and don't have a lot of time to translate it!)

Scottish Gaelic Translation:

Bha Thòrin eòlach air àlainneachd, snas. Dh’fhaodadh e ag aithneachadh comharra fhìor cheàirde gu furasta. Ged a bha e òg fhathast ann am beatha nan troichean, dh’ionnsaich e ri taobh na goibhnean as motha a bh’ aca, anns na h-uaimhean ìsle, aosmhoire Erebor mus tàinig an nathair-sgiathach, agus dh’ionnsaich e am fior ciall chruitheachd.

Bha na ceàrdaichean gun sgil is nàistinn. Cha tug e toileachadh dha a bhith ag obair orra idir. Cha d’fhuair e dad ach priobaid na làimh agus tàir bhuapa air an rathad. Nuair a ràinig iad na Beanntan Ghuirm, b’ e faochadh don t-sluaigh aige agus ris fhèin, ach cha robhar measail air a bhith a’ fuirich air carantas.

Cha dhìochuimhneach am prionnsa a’ ghlòir is onaraich a bh’ aca. Thog iad tallachan dhaibh fhèin anns an Iar agus thog iad fhèin a-mach à lom-sgrios. B’ e sin gu leòr dha tòrr dhen t-sluaigh Thòrin a bhith gan caill am miann a bhith a’ sireach an tìr-dhàimh aca a-rithist.

Air an son, agus air a phiuthar is a bhràthair, cha bhruidhinn Thòrin mu dheidhinn gu tric. Choimhead e air adhart seach a bhith beò a’ coimhead air ais. Cha do stad sin na h-aislingean, na chuimhneachain, no chuir mùch air a fhuath. Cha bhith sinn nar dìolachan-dèirce a-riamh a-rithist, feumach air taic mar gun robh beathaichean a bh’ annainn.

Chaidh Thòrin gu tric a-measg na goibhnean aca, a’ sireach cinnt dhen t-òrd na làimh is teas an teine air an t-aodann. Ach cha b’ urrainn sùilean a chunnaic solas an Arkenstone dhìochuimhneachadh an deàrrsaidh no lorg an aon rud ann an leugan luaireanta, ràsanaiche. Anns na aislingean bha i adhlaicte fon smàg an nathair-sgiathach, anns an dorchadas, ann an tallachan a bha air lìonadh aon uair le solas an teine, gu sìorraidh brath.

An Arkenstone. Cridhe na Beinn, chuir iad oirre. Ghlèidh e an solas faisg, gu daingean, agus leig a dhòchas a bhith beò anns a deàrrsadh.

(Duilich gu bheil am fear seo nas beaga, tha mi air a bhith ag obair a-nochd agus cha robh àm gu leòr agam airson eadar-theangachadh a dhèanamh! Bidh mearachdan ann a sheo agus bheir mi sùil a-màireach air haha)

[phychohex]

I met a vampire down in Santa Carla (chapter one)

I pulled up the driveway dread seeping its way into my pours. I managed to get here in just one day only stopping for gas and food. I sit trying to gather the courage to face them again, especially after seeing them last. When I spoke to my mother on the phone asking if she could please help me and was immediately allowed; it took me by surprise. My stepdad and I never really saw eye to eye on just about everything. From religion to people who were different from us. My mom wasn't that way though. She just happened to be trapped in marriage something I never realized until being in the same boat. Stuck with a man who claims to love you only to show the opposite. I finally get the gull to walk up to the door knocking three times.

When the door opened I could barely recognize the woman in front of me the once youthful face now wrinkled with stress and the sad fake smile. Her hair was put up in a tight bun and her clothes resembled those of an old woman. Even though she was only in her early fifties. "Aurora my love come in you're just in time for supper" She stands aside letting me in and I see Steve sitting on his throne watching a football game. The brown leather recliner laid out as he looked up wearing what can only be Sunday best even if it was Monday. 'never know when we will meet god, so we always need to look our best' is what he always told me. He stands up a groan leaving him how he looked the same. From the tall lean figure that seemed to loom over you like a predator looking down on his prey. His hair greying and kept in a slick back appearance with those dull dark eyes pricing through my soul, judging me.

"Aroura" he nods I couldn't do it. My eyes hit the floor as a mix of fear and shame came over me. The last thing I told him was I would never come back to this hell hole and that I would never need his help. Now I hate that I was wrong this was the part I knew I would hate the most. The look in those cold dead eyes saying I told you so. "Is Dinner ready?" he asks my mom leading us to the dining room where a nice roast was all prepared for us. We sit down back in our spots. It was like I never left. He held his hand out to me so we could pray over our food. I was not religious I was the opposite I hated it. I know not everyone is that way but with what I had to go through because of god, because I was 'sinful' I couldn't help but despise it. The thought of religion sent chills up my spine and yet I joined hands and pretended to pray along with them.

As we say our amen and start eating he pipes up "So how was John" he asks the tone in his voice screaming that he was eating this up.

"Steve" Mom tries but he holds his hand up.

"you know this is my house Aruroa so I have rules," he starts

"Rory" I mutter "I go by Rory" I look up nervous. "that's what my friends call me," Having never told them before I just couldn't take not at least trying to be myself.

"Okay then, Rory. I have rules; now I know you are a woman now, all grown up. All I ask is you cover your tattoos inside the house and especially outside. I am a well-known member of society as you may know" That was true he was friends with a bunch of politically rich people. "I don't want you to be an embarrassment, you understand. Modesty is what I expect this means no crop tops, shorts or skirts must be at least knee length and no tight-fitting clothing it's unbecoming. Lastly, I want you to contribute help with chores and such." he smiles I look over to Mom as she smiles.

"It will be nice. A good change of pace to have help right" she asks

"Mom what about you, you work right"

"oh no" she shakes her head "I gave it up a few years ago" I was stunned. She was an amazing Veterinarian surgeon and loved what she did.

"well, that's good." I smile "But I think I will try to get a job if that's alright"

"With what education" Steve pipes up "Last I checked you never finished school"

"I didn't but I did get my GED, and then I went into a trade" The shock on his face was everything. After being told I couldn't do it and then to prove him wrong. "may I be excused I have some unpacking to do" I ask and they let me. I go out to the car grabbing my bags before going up to my childhood bedroom. The door opens with an eerie creek. The room was just as I left it. The full-sized bed with a creme-colored blanket. The frame has four long points with old fairy lights hanging from them. One light brown nightstand with a simple lamp and then a dresser across from the bed. All the neutral colors. If you told someone a sixteen-year-old used to live in this room I'd tell you that it was sad. Sitting on the old mattress and opening the drawer of the nightstand looking at the unused bible just collecting dust. Gazing to meet the Jesus painting that hung right above my bed. I hear a knock as Steve opens the door.

"gosh, so many memories." he shakes his head smiling "I remember that day, the rush you had as you got into that car cursing our names. Your mother she would lay in here for days sulking. You put that woman through hell you know," he sits next to me the numbness was back all I could do was nod. "she has asked me to not be so harsh on you, and for her sake, I plan to so do what you want with the room all I ask is you not deface god, show respect." he puts his hand on my back "I'm glad your back, no matter what you may think of me I am glad to have raised you, and that you have come to your senses" he stands up. Looking at the Jeues painting. "remember he is always watching over us."

"take it" I mutter "I don't want it in here" Tears peek up again. he lets out a disappointed sigh taking it down. As he is walking out the door he turns back to look at me.

"keep this door closed at all times, I don't want guests coming in" he shuts the door with more force than needed. I lay down in my bed trying to get over the feeling of entrapment. Telling myself over and over this was better than what I came back from. With the thought playing over and over I found myself falling asleep.

I wake up looking at the time. It's almost noon and I have to rush out. when I told my friends I was coming back we made plans to go out for lunch and meet back at the shack. The shack is an old hideout we made when we were younger. It was a trailer out in the woods just outside town. It used to be my friend's uncle's trailer and once it was paid off he didn't want it and agreed to give it to us as a clubhouse while he built his dream place just a mile down the road. I brush my hair looking in the mirror the bruise on my arm still dark. Using what makeup I had I covered it to the best of my ability before taking a glance over. Wearing a long-sleeve navy blue sweatshirt and then a skirt that went to my ankles which was black with navy blue flowers and black dock martins. I try to ignore the tired look and puffiness in my eyes. The light peeking its way through the curtains. Focusing on the dark auburn hair that was in a sloppy ponytail and the freckles that went along my cheeks like scattered stars. I grab my bag before heading out for lunch.

Sitting at the small little shop waiting. I hear a squeal and see Kayla rushing over. I stand up and she practically throws herself at me. She was gorgeous as ever, with honey-brown eyes long dark hair, and caramel skin. Not far behind her was Lilly a once light blonde now neon pink and fully decked with piercings. We sit down and start catching up. "okay, okay so I just started at this little nail salon down at the boardwalk and I'm meeting up with this guy who is a college professor he is so cute you have to meet him. Oh and guess who finally got together" I give Lilly a bright smile.

"Really?" I exclaim. Lilly used to have a huge crush on our friend Josh and everyone knew he liked her back but both of them were so deep in teenage awkwardness. They never would admit it to each other or anyone else. "since when"

"When we first started college. I'm studying for my nursing and he is going into film" Lilly smiles sheepishly "But what about you, why are you back so suddenly? I mean don't get me wrong we are all beyond happy but when you left it was because your stepdad pushed the last straw, I mean what he said I don't blame you and what he put you through so why move back in."

"Well, long story short I took off with an even worse person" I glance down adjusting my sleeve hoping they don't notice. Kayla reaches over and holds my hand her eyes filled with sorrow. I nod laughing as I wipe a tear. "I guess I should've seen that one coming huh, I mean what nineteen-year-old runs off with a sixteen-year-old."

"a fucked up one, I knew I never liked him" Kayla rolls her eyes "What happened, do I have to go and kill his ass."

"no, that would be too merciful" I laugh. "don't worry it's not like he knows I'm here.

"You're strong you know, getting away from it. Not many can" Lilly agrees "But seriously what a fucked up dude didn't he start trying to get you when you were like fourteen, he was a senior that just wrong." Lilly nods, "hey you know what we should all stop by the shack"

"yes that's perfect get the hell out of here and to a real comfort place." having finished our food we all go and meet up at the shack. Pulling in brought so many memories, all the weed we smoked the karaoke nights the game nights all the worst and fucked up movies we would sneak past the guys at the video store. it was a safe haven for us, no adults, just some dumb high schoolers with either nothing to do or escaping the reality of our own lives. It was our fortress, no one could tell us what to do. No one could take away the joys of being young and stupid and a place where we all looked out for each other. I get out seeing Will on the front porch smoking a blunt. He changed so much once a scrawny kid with messed up hair now in shape his big poofy hair held back with a ponytail holder. He looked good, especially for how he was brought up. He was one of us who was escaping.

While Lilly was the one who got us the shack cause of her Uncle she was also the den mother. The one who always cared and never had shit to do. Kayla was the same that is unless she had to watch her younger siblings. The three of us have been friends since the third grade when I first moved here. But for me and Will it was the safe zone. I was getting away from my stepdad who forced me to believe and who punished me if I didn't, but I felt he had it worse. His mom was a druggie and always had men coming and going which ended him in some trouble. Dealing drugs and having gotten addicted to heroin. It changed once he almost died and we freaked out. It was harsh but it needed to be said and if it hadn't he would probably be doped up. Kayla screamed at him saying he was no better than his mother. He went to rehab for a long time and I left before he came back. He looks up putting the blunt out and waves.

As I make my way up the stairs we clap our hands together and pull into a hug. "oh shit, they told me you was back, how you been" he smiles

"I've been" I shrug

"Felt you there, so hows that dipshit you were dating"

"don't know don't care how is your mom"

"dead" he laugh "fucking good riddance" We go inside the place was different probably cause we'd aged. the once dimly lighted room now has lights along the walls and a bright light and funky fan. With a wrap-around couch instead of bean bags which now sit in the corner. The TV was updated along with the gaming system and two bookshelves filled with games and movies. Down the hall, the game room is completely decked out with the table in the middle and shelves almost covering every wall with all the things a DND player could ask for. I see Josh in his natural habitat snapping pictures of some figures. He looks up smiling.

"awe shit," he makes his way around "bout time you stopped by, it's been what like six years? You look good" he complements

"you too" he nods the lanky figure and beanie giving hipster vibes. "what are you doing"

"oh well I'm working on stop motion so I take a photo and then move everything slightly and repeat the process until eventually I have a video of these guys moving. it's for an assignment, come on let's go sit down." everyone sitting in the living room music blasting as we hot box. It has been years and to say it was hitting hard was an understatement. Sitting with a big bag of barbecue chips listening to what everyone has been up to.

"You know what I was just telling my co-worker that I used to be in a band." Kayla announces "We should do that again now that Rory's back" I sit up shaking my head.

"hell no" I laugh "It's been years"

"exactly that's why we should, not for fame or money just for shits and giggles plus you used to sound like a literal siren" she pushes "Come'on what do you got to lose we can put it in with our DND sessions"

"Yeah we could" Josh nods "Every Wednesday we are all here anyway might be a good time Lilly still has all our old stuff we can set up here"

"where in here" Lilly scuffs "You giving your dnd room up?"

"hell no" Josh sits back. "we will figure it out but if we do you have to agree to at least try" he points passing me the joint. I take a quick puff and let out a long sigh,

"fine" Kayla jumped up in excitement before hugging me again. "hey I said try if it doesn't work out then that's not on me"

"Don't be a party pooper" Kayla pouts "I mean what are you going to do anyways"

"look for a job that's for starters there is no way I'm going to play housewife and be cooped up with sir I told you so, no way"

"Well, what are you looking for" Josh asks as I pass the joint.

"tattoo, I'm a tattoo artist and have been for three years now" I smile "I love it I wouldn't trade it for anything"

"I know a guy who is looking for an artist he is trying to do an almost twenty-four-hour opening. he is looking for the night shift from six to three. I can recommend you if you'd like." Will offers.

"yes that would be amazing" excitement filled as hope of actually being able to save up enough money to move out looking more and more possible, "where is it at"

"the boardwalk, its called Pop's Ink my guy Oscar is the owner pops was his old gang name I can have him give you a call" After a few more hours of talking and catching up it was time to finally head back home.

It wasn't even a whole week later when I got the call for a job interview. Like Will said he was looking for the night shift and seemed to be desperate. I make sure I'm in one of my nicer outfits with my hair in a messy bun and light makeup. Wearing winged eyeliner and a red lip along with nude eyeshadow. I grab my work bag that carries my portfolio of all the tattoos I have done and am the most proud of, my resume, and references. I walk down the stairs and as I am heading out the door I notice Steve eyeing me.

"where you heading to kiddo" he interrogates.

"I have a job interview" with my hand on the doorknob ready to leave.

"at six pm?"

"yep it's for a night shift and the owner is there right now for the interview so I have to go."

"what job interview happens this late anyways." he scuffs shaking his head "You know I let you back into my home and if you are trying to go off and do a job that is ungodly I swear. Besides, I provide enough to care for you and your mother there isn't any need for you to get one"

"look" I turn with what courage I have. "I understand your views on the matter and I don't agree okay. this way I can prove I'm responsible and it's not a sinful job like you may think. I'm not going out to be a stripper or prostitute if that's what you're concerned with. I'm going to use the trade that I told you about. I would love to stand here and explain but I don't want to be late I'll most likely not get home till later so tell mom not to wait up for me for dinner" With that I leave rushing to my car before letting out a sigh of relief. I drive the fifteen minutes to the boardwalk. even though I lived here the majority of my life I was never allowed in this area. With all the murders my mom thought it be best I stay clear. I make my way into the shop with late 90s rock lightly playing and the red walls with black printouts of pinup girls and then the counter. I look around not sure what to do. That's when I noticed a tall big burly man with a sleeve tat and a long beard. Reminded me of Santa Clause, well if Santa Clause was in a biker gang which I think this guy was. "hey are you Oscar" I pipe up. he turns and makes his way over his aura very dark and intimidating which quickly fades once he smiles.

"you must be Rory it's nice to meet you" I was taken back nodding and giving him a firm handshake. "Will told me you would be by" he was Santa, what the fuck.

"p-pops," I ask he sighs laughing.

"told you I was a gang member I told him not to do that, no that's my trucker name I was one for almost twenty years before tattooing. We meet in rehab used to do coke in my youth and I help run the support group where everyone calls me pops there too" he lets out a deep laugh and ushers me to sit down. "so you're looking for a tattoo gig right, well came to the right place let me take a look at what you got." with a startle I got through my bag and hand him my portfolio. he flips to the first page which was an eagle and American flag in full color. slowly flipping the pages no real reaction.

from the pinups to full color, and realism he closes it and nods. "that's fucking impressive what you'd say you are the weakest in"

"well to be honest it would be realism it takes me the longest and I'm not used to doing them a lot, but specifically doing photo realism of a human, if it was an animal or object I can do that pretty well. "

"Where do you think you are the best in"

"in my lining and color taking my time and getting it done right has always been really important to me"

"so would you say your time management skills aren't top quality"

"Well, I would rather take my time and get it right than have someone leave with a bad tattoo. The Bride of Frankenstein bust I did took about ten hours. same with Frank himself. I usually charge per hour and when I do start I can't finish cause it would bug me a bit so I don't take many breaks unless the client needs them if I do then it's just to get a drink or use the bathroom no longer then ten minutes and I stop the clock for the client so unless I am tattooing then the clock will be going."

"how much do you usually charge"

"depends on the type but I range between twenty-five to fifty an hour for them I did thirty, if need be I can do a flat rate of twenty-five"

"and twenty percent going to the shop is fine with you," he asks writing things down.

"yeah that's fine"

"Okay um, who trained you"

"Katie Fitz, here is her number" I hand him the number he looks over and stands up.

"well I am impressed I of course want to call her first but I can call you within the next couple of days and tell you what I decide but your chances are pretty good." he walks me out "It was a pleasure to meet you" I shake his hand.

"same here " I make my way to my car and when the beauty of the boardwalk takes my breath away. from the smell of cotton candy and restaurants to the screaming of joy from the people at the small fair ground-like area with the lights illuminated by the Ferris wheel and the doors of all the shops wide open. I noticed the sun was setting and even though I knew I should head home I couldn't stop that little devil in my ear telling me a look around wouldn't hurt. I make my way looking at the shops. There was the nail salon, then a soap shop with bath bombs and perfume, go further and you will find a bar that leads you to a tourist-like shop. I notice a quiet little bookstore that has a coffee shop at the front. As the smell of coffee invades my lungs and the large maze-like rows of books call to me I soon found myself going up and down the isles.

I come to the horror area which was ironically placed at the very back in a corner. I look up trying to see what would catch my eye first. I stumbled upon a new Stephan King novel that I have yet to read. Just as I was reaching up the sound of the bell that was to alert people entering the shop dings and blaring hard rock music filled the once quiet and peaceful space. I go to the end of the aisle and peer to see a group of four guys have come barreling in. Looking like they just stepped out of the 80's and gave off a menacing vibe. Not anything like what I felt when first meeting Oscar. This was true don't fuck with me energy that chilled me to the core. The tallest with long dark hair and brooding nature walks to the mystery section making it clear whose idea it was to stop by. The youngest and shorts with curly hair cut into a mullet ran around holding the boom box that was playing harsh music. He reminded me of a kid who forgot his ADHD meds. As he ran past another member of the group who was leaning against the table pulling all his best moves to get with one of the girls who sat peacefully at their table. His long blond hair which also was cut into a mullet seemed to be succeeding making the girls lean into whatever it was he said. My eyes go over not even two feet and are met with bright blue hues. The light blue reminded me of the light hitting the ocean just right. They made my skin bump up with anxiety and set my mind on high alert.

Going back to the area I was just trying to think of a way out. Away out where I wouldn't be interrupted by any of them. This all went right down the drain when I glanced over to see he was looking at the books with me. He must've made a straight beam over. I look back up at the book that I once debated on getting. He leans over being very close. I look over our eyes meeting and he holds the book above my head. I look to see if it was the last one that I would be able to reach. I wasn't short these bookshelves were just insanely tall. At least that's what I like to tell myself, Im average height 5'5 isn't abnormal and yet at this moment it seemed not tall enough as he loomed over me egging me on with the book over my head as if we were two school children.

He sports a cheeky grin knowing he was getting on my nerves. "what's your name, princess" his voice had a mocking tone to it. Not daring to answer I just turn to grab my things. "awe come on" he holds the book out. Unsure whether to try and grab it or not I stretch my hand out which causes him to pull back "Your name, doll" I officially am now fed up. "I'll give it to you all I want is your name" We hear the chick at the front finally lose her cool.

"Dwayne get your skank ass friend out of here" He rolls his eyes clearly annoyed by the demand,

"Last chance" he backs away tempting me with the book. I don't know why but it was like I couldn't stop myself,

"Rory" I mutter "My name is Rory" he smiles handing me the book before waving.

"I'll see you around" he turns and they all leave being just as loud as they were when they first entered the shop. What the fuck was that and why did I give him a total stranger my name for a fucking book. I checked out and went home laying down to read but they just kept playing in my mind on repeat. I lay awake trying to understand what the hell happened. What pissed me off is the book was not worth telling a strange man in a trench coat looking like he would shoot up the joint for.

[violettesiren]

And when we are finished, I ask if she thinks us grotesque, two plain monsters basking in our blood—our liquid plaque.

We celebrate the art of our unmaking. She spirals my body into a single drop, ambrosia spoiled by the Gods. I copy

the signature of her sin- ged moan, grind it down until it becomes my own dim map. Even the Gods fuck. Crown

themselves in gardens pastored by snakes. I am crying. Not out of shame but out of tradition. To have mastered this want, only to carve for it a lock, a name

as queer as unholy. How queer it fits inside the mouth, how queer is my woman and the sweat she makes of me, a sweet trick of her tongue. Don’t we deserve a hand-

made altar. Don’t we deserve a crowd of worshipers to carry our bed. And yes please to the beads, the sacred wars, the body ornaments, the vain-eyed

statues pulsing deep with our flood. Yes to the orchestrated violence, a quiver licked down my spine. May our love blood the skies like a storm of Gods high off terror.

O Zeus. O Oshun. O Ra. O Kali. O Me. O Her. O Gods—God? Yes. Gods. Don’t act like you don’t know our names’ roar. Whispered. Sweet and savage inside your temples. Preserved behind velvet doors.

Blood Sex by Crystal Valentine

[redemptioninchaos]

Sergio

art by @xxx-ashhazard-xxx

"I don't know you, and you don't know me. Let's keep it that way fa both our sakes."

Name: Sergio Salvadora

Age: 25

Height: 5'2"

Weight: 120 lbs

Species: Cat

Physical description: Short, wiry, very mild definition in his upper arms, over two dozen cut marks around his torso with patchy fur around them, predominantly orange fur with dark stripes from the top of his head down to his tail; white fur from his snout down to his inner thighs, pinkish-red "beans" on his hands and feet

Background from Mason's perspective: Born and raised in Harlem, New York, to Demetrius and Geraldine Salvadora. Geraldine was a nurse in a large Manhattan hospital, while Demetrius struggled to hold down any one job. Records indicate a conjugal visit between the Salvadoras roughly nine months before Sergio was born.

Demetrius was killed in a bout of gang violence the day Sergio turned 7 years old. Agent Bonita Salvadora of SIN claimed that Geraldine didn't want anyone from Demetrius's side of the family to contact her or her son.

Between the ages of 12 to 15, Sergio had scattered reports of delinquency and truancy on his record, from alleged pickpocketing and shoplifting to vandalism. His teachers in middle school noted that he had developed a brash streak, a few even saying he was "incorrigible." Despite this, he showed promise in mathematics and economics classes.

There are hazy reports of Sergio having joined a street gang known as the Sixth Street Clique, who notably initiated a gunfight with rival gang South Side Vipers. Everyone in the latter gang was reported dead, whereas the Sixth Street Clique was all either gunned down or arrested...save for one, who managed to escape the police. Surviving gang members mentioned Sergio's name during interrogations, but the case had gone cold before anything could stick.

Sergio was made a ward of the state and got his GED through private tutoring. When he was 18, he signed on with the Specialized Laborers of New York, a local worker's union that provided aid to myriad professions, blue- and white-collar. He started working for Olin's Repossession at 18 and stayed for three years, then became a taxi driver after the owner of Olin's Reposession had died under unknown circumstances. He then went on to drive for Chariot, a ride-sharing company that quickly took cities like New York by storm.

Rumors have spread about the Laborers being more than a workers' union, with scattered reports of kidnapping, extortion, and murder. The police haven't found anything that could stick, but there is also no telling if the Laborers have some officers in their pocket. We have found no connections between the Laborers and the aetherial, so we are currently leaving any issues regarding them to the mundane law enforcement. Sergio doesn't seem to be aware of his family's vampire hunting business due to his father's separation from the rest of his family, according to Agent Salvadora. We will allow her to keep tabs on him and to give SIN, and by extension us, updates on his whereabouts and exploits.

Human AU:

(art by @birdy-the-artist)

[moth-feeet]

hi besties!!! this next monday will be my exam in mr.k’s class. that means after monday i won’t be returning to his class again :((((

despite despite despite

we have what was, and today i have more to talk about.

okay so i think i already talked about how he checks in on me when i miss a day of school, which is frequent due to disabilities of mine. but he’s also very, shall i say, forgiving. he has told me, because i only have two classes and won’t be coming on friday for first period exams, that he isn’t going to mark an absence for the time post-exam for studying. which sounds dumb but the conversation went something like

me: so i don’t have a first period so i just don’t come in on friday?

k: mhm, but if you don’t come in i’ll have to mark you absent…

me: oh…so do i have to come in?

k: we’ll im telling you i’ll just mark you absent

me: …okay…i don’t think i’m picking up the subtext

k: whispering im not marking it as an absence!

then it clicked!

a little while later, i didn’t have work to do, (which btw he never stops telling me how remarkable and amazing my grade is :3) i was reading. and with zero shame i’ll admit i’m a kindle reader. something about it is so motivating to actually read. i’m currently reading black ties and white lies im nearly 50% in and so far it’s alright. mr.k walks up, literally from no where like a fucking ghoul, and starts asking what i’m reading, boarder-line interrogation. (important to note, i was wearing noise canceling headphones, and actively reading a page with filthy filthy words. ) this man is a science teacher, who has admitted to having dropped out of school in his 9th grade and taking a GED course. he HATES reading. and king won’t stop asking about my damn book.

in hindsight i think he must’ve caught a few words from over my shoulder, it is a jarring catch when you pass by a book full of the most sinful snippets. any how, he inevitably gives up as i avoid questions because, y’know, im reading p0rn. he just ends up asking if it’s good, and if he should give it a read.

face, completely beet red. god the thought of him sitting down and reading the words my eyes glaze over and get addicted to is mortifying.

i obviously said “meh, kinda boring” !!!!!!! i lower my eyes to words like “throbbing”, “whine”, and much worse. BORING IS THE LAST WORD ID USE!!!!!!

he makes me dizzy.