#AND also there’s like. nothing left. because after a decade of wear most of the stuff that WAS there has had to be removed

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

if my bank doesn’t contact me about abnormal payments from my account over the last two days i will be SHOCKED

[gabessquishytum]

In high school dream had such a crush on hob but always pretended he didn’t know. They ran in different circles. Dream was a weird kid and hob was prom king. Hob was never mean to him directly but he also never really stopped any of his friends from making fun of dream. The closest he ever got to acknowledging him was one time one of his friends stole Dream’s sketchbook and rifled through it…and found some drawings that were clearly of hob. Dream got beat up for that.

Hob didn’t call them off but after, he quietly took the sketchbook, wiped the mud off of it and handed it back to Dream. he didn’t quite meet his eye. He was embarassed that the school freak clearly had some kind of a thing for him.

Hob couldn’t admit it to himself but he admired Dream too. He wasn’t sure of his sexuality back then. He regrets it now. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

See after school things have changed. Hob’s family is gone and his business is struggling. It was his mom’s place and hob desperately wants to keep it open but there is a wealthy buyer and hob is deep in debt.

and that wealthy buyer is dream.

dream has totally transformed. He wears designer suits. He is elegant and cold and demanding and rich.

And when hob asks, Dream agrees to meet with him. Very quickly. In a hotel room.

For once, Dream has the upper hand and he’s got a decade’s worth of obsession and resentment to express. He makes hob a deal. He can keep his shabby little bar but in return, Dream is going to own him. Hob will be his pretty plaything. He will do whatever Dream says. He will come when he is called. He will serve Dream, and he’ll prove it right now by sucking Dream’s cock and begging for dream’s help. If dream doesn’t like it, hob is out on his ass and dream will take everything he owns.

As he gets on his knees, hob can’t help but think that maybe if he’d been nicer in school he could have been Dream’s loving partner. Instead he’s going to have to settle for being his eager slut.

Oooo, dark and spicy!!! Very nice indeed.

Hob accepts his new position with as much of a positive attitude as he can muster. He receives a whole contract from Dream which outlines their arrangement and all the things Dream expects from him. There’s even a list of things that Hob now has to wear everyday (lingerie), piercings that Dream wants him to get, and toys that he should start using on himself to prepare. The most humiliating item on the list is the cheerleaders outfit that Dream wants him to get. Hob was never a cheerleader at school, but the point Dream is making is still quite clear.

With Dream’s investment, Hob is able to hire new staff at the bar. So he’s available for Dream, 24/7. His phone is always on loud so he never misses a text. Sometimes Dream takes him to parties and events, but only rarely - he makes it quite clear that Hob is too much of a cheap slut to appear with Dream in public regularly. If they do go out, Dream tells all his posh friends that Hob is an escort he hired for the night. Hob hates how aroused it makes him to see Dream sneering at him so meanly.

And Dream really isn’t much nicer in the bedroom. He likes to have Hob face down, either bent over some furniture or on a bed. He says that Hob doesn’t even deserve to look at him. In fact, Hob is lucky that Dream will even put his dick inside such a worthless slutty hole. The humiliation makes Hob cum every damn time, although he always wants to cry afterwards. Not because Dream is being cold, but because he took the time to wipe Hob clean before he left the room.

It’s better than nothing. But Hob wishes he could turn back time, and earn Dream’s love.

[cherikdogfood]

title idea to save your bored mind: We'll dance again

@fleflafiefie Thank you so much! This was a lovely prompt and hopefully I did justice to your prompt!

P.S. I'm posting this here, but I plan to post it on ao3 later and tag you (or gift this to you, I dunno how it works), since you gave the prompt. Could you tell me your ao3 username? Thank you!

We'll Dance Again

Every time Charles and Erik part, he can't stop the ache in his chest from throbbing painfully. Charles knows, logically, that there's nothing he should be worried about.

After all, he and Erik are "enemies", their X-Men and Brotherhood fighting regularly. They will definitely meet at some point, so why worry so much?

But he can't stop worrying.

He's in his late seventies, and Erik is older than him. Putting aside the fact that humans hate Erik and want to kill him, Erik himself is getting old.

As much as Erik claims he is better than humans, Charles knows even Erik has his limits.

There will come a day when Erik dies.

And if Erik dies, what about him?

What does he have left?

Nothing.

It's painful -- excruciating, even, to think of a world without his Erik.

Other times, Charles thinks about himself. He knows he is getting old. His mind doesn't work like it used to, and no matter how strong his telepathy is, he won't be able to exist without a body, right?

Charles tries not to think about it, he really does, but thoughts of death and eternal parting does not cease to haunt his dreams.

And so he lies awake, at night, after Erik has tipped his hat off and said "Goodbye old friend" in that awfully fond tone of his, and wonders about their future.

Every time there's a large battle between the X-Men and the Brotherhood, he does his best to join the fight. Just so he can meet Erik.

"No offense, Professor, but you are getting old. I don't think you should be in the front lines with us," Storm reminds him.

"And I know your knees and back hurt a lot more these days," Jean adds, telepathically.

"I know," he says, out loud.

"But I want to be here," he tells Jean in her mind, and she knows why.

In the battlefield he will meet Erik, and although his beloved still wears that annoying helmet, Charles treasures the few glimpses he can have of him.

Their time is running out, he thinks. And he doesn't want to spend every waking moment fighting Erik like they did when they were younger.

And then one day, Charles' fears come true. One minute he's alright, and next he finds himself clutching his head in pain, whimpering as if someone is banging a hammer on his head.

He thinks he passes out, and when he opens his eyes and blink, he comes face to face with Hank.

"What happened?" He asks.

Hank tells him everything the doctors have said. He has a neurodegenerative disease, causing him to have seizures and making him forget.

But Charles' doesn't want to forget. He doesn't want to forget anything, but most of all, he doesn't want to forget Erik.

When the seizures happen again, once, twice, Charles realizes things won't get better. In fact, things were getting so much worse.

He didn't know who exactly did it (his bet was on Jean), but the fifth time his seizures happened and he woke up, he found Erik by his side.

Erik was by his side.

And he wasn't wearing the helmet.

Charles was tired -- the seizures had wrung his energy -- but seeing the love of his life by his bedside gave him so much happiness that he wanted to jump out of bed and embrace him.

He couldn't do that, of course, not only because he couldn't move his legs, but also because his body was too weak to even get up.

"Erik," he could only whisper.

"Hello, old friend," Erik replied, smiling fondly, albeit sadly too.

Charles wants to say something, ask Erik how long he'll be staying here, but Erik speaks first.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

If he were decades younger, maybe, he would answer with a playful quip that made Erik roll his eyes.

As it is now, he's too old and tired, so he just smiles weakly.

"I've been better, I suppose."

"Hank says it's in your best interests to lay down and rest," Erik says. "That means no more going out into the battlefield, Charles."

He groans and looks at Erik, letting his gaze wander over his beloved's wrinkles and memorizing his face.

"I know, but, you'll be there," he whispers.

I need to see you.

The words are left unsaid, but Erik knows.

Erik understands him, sometimes even better than he understands himself.

"You're afraid," Erik says, his gaze softening.

"I've noticed it before and I thought I was wrong, but... you really are afraid," Erik says, his tone filled with both confusion and understanding.

Understanding because Erik knows what Charles is afraid of, and confusion because he thinks Charles of all people would not be afraid.

"You're afraid we won't meet again," Erik says slowly. "You're afraid one of us dies, and our parting on the battlefield will be our last meeting."

Charles nods, because his voice has betrayed him and he's glad he doesn't have to say the words out loud -- he's not afraid of dying, no, he's afraid of losing Erik, of never meeting him again.

Erik moves slowly and grasps his hand gently, and Charles gives him a small squeeze. Erik squeezes back.

"You don't have to be afraid, Charles. This -- We... You and I -- " Erik's voice breaks and he visibly tries to fight the urge to cry. It's a battle he's losing very quickly, though, and Charles tries not to succumb to his own tears.

After a few moments of silence Erik finally speaks.

"It's alright, Charles. This isn't, this isn't our last dance," he whispers oh so gently. "We will dance again, Liebling," he chokes out, "You and I, it won't be over that quickly. And, even if, even if we die--"

"Of course we'll die at some point, Erik," Charles laughs, blinking away tears as one falls down his cheek.

Erik brings his other hand up and wipes the tear away, the tenderness in his gaze and the warmth in his mind flowing without restraint.

"I know, Liebling, and what I'm saying is, even if we die, who's to say it's the end?" Erik's grin is mischievous with a twinkle in his eye that Charles knows too well.

"All those stories of the afterlife, heaven and hell and everything in between... It doesn't matter to me. I'd chase you to the ends of the earth and drag you to heaven with me if that's what you want," he whispers, gentle but firm.

"Although," Erik laughs a choked, dry laugh, "considering what everyone says about me, I'm probably going to hell."

Charles scoffs, knowing he and Erik have had this argument several times.

"You are a good person, Erik. There's so much more to you than you know," he whispers, replaying the words he once said decades ago.

"And you know, you know that I would follow you to hell if I had to. It doesn't matter to me," he adds.

Erik smiles, gentle and warm. For a moment, the two of them stay silent, basking in each other's presence and content to be together.

"You should sleep," Erik whispers.

"I don't want to," Charles says telepathically.

And Erik -- god, Charles wants to hug him -- Erik knows what he means.

"Sleep, Charles. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not dying, not yet, and neither are you," Erik says firmly.

Charles sighs and closes his eyes, feeling Erik's mind wrap around his like a protective cocoon.

"As I've said, Charles. This isn't our last dance. So go to sleep, I'm here," Erik says in his mind.

That's all the reassurance he needs, and he goes to sleep, peaceful.

[made by cherikdogfood]

[thesharktanksdriver]

(I realize that all your resent asks have been about your determination series,, amazing series btw,, but imma bout to break that streak with a question about the magical girl 🤞)

So I was rereading basically every work you’ve written,, cause it’s my therapy,, and I saw that you made a post about magical girl y/n and that Justice League movie “Crisis on two earths” I was wondering what that would be like?

In an other universe where all the heroes are evil is the magical girl also evil? (<<<evil magical girls 😻)

I thought about how y/n is like on neutral grounds but leans towards the “good side” more. So is “evil” y/n the same she just leans towards the “bad side” more?

And I don’t know about you but I’d love to see others reaction to a y/n who is aggressive or is just wearing black,, lol.

A potential villain y/n as just been a brain rot for the past couple of decades.

But I’d like to hear your opinion about it! 😽🫶

I’m happy to be yalls therapists tho be warned u might need a second one after all my shit lol. I love me song angst and yall are the ones who pay the price.

But to answer your question it actually gets pretty interesting with crisis on two earths because something impossible happens. Cause, everyone in that universe has a parallel version of them. All of them for some reason except y/n.

It’s puzzling for them along with the other characters within the films because that shouldn’t be statistically possible.In every universe almost no matter the outcome there should be a version of you. Theoretically as you said an alternate version of y/n should be someone who maybe leans more towards the side of bad but retains some element of neutrality to them.

Something along the lines of maybe an informant or even some sort of back alley doctor of sorts. But there’s nothing.

While y/n knows that they can be the only magical girl (due to the fact Rigel can only pick one vassal per dimension/universe there should be a different version of herself. One she was actually quite excited to meet even if they were evil because she wanted to know if this life had been any different from her own.

But nothing

Not even Rigel seems to know why there is no different version of her. But to be fair it brings up another question for Rigel, what about the other girls? They’d never sought out to try and find any sort of alternate version of the other girls due to the guilt. But it now brings up the question that no matter the universe they had never seen a dopple.

But in that regard it catches the interest of the alternate justice league from this flipped world. Especially Owlman.

The entirety of the film is about his existential crisis that nothing matters because everything that could have possibly been done and said by you has been done before in a different universe. But here’s seemingly an outlier to this very idea, something that seemingly goes against multiversal theory in the form of a young girl of all things.

One that is moldable and malleable, something that in his eyes the entire multiverse deemed as important and literally one of a kind.

Someone with more power at her fingers tips than she could ever imagine with literal infinite potential.

Someone that could potentially shift any scale if she so deemed.

Someone they need on their side.

Yeah….his plan becomes less destroying every universe into first trying to manipulate y/n which failed and then into aight we doing this by force then.

Mind controlled y/n which I’ll call evil y/n for now is someone like you said that’s aggressive and most of all bitter. It kinda takes all of y/n stored away anger towards a society that left them to rot as well as the fact that they had to literally scrape by half the time and almost no one noticed nor cared. It kinda cuts off her memory at a certain point, the part where things got better for her, that she found a home and people who do care. As cliche as it is it’s that which is used to snap her out of it along with the general mental fog she has when not just focusing on her anger.

But anyway evil y/n is wholeheartedly destructive, using everything she can to essentially just destroy. Using that enhanced strength to good use, and while she can’t use her magical weapon on things that aren’t Shadowmites who’s to say she can’t find an actual weapon to do the job instead lol.

I feel like as well evil y/n would have a bit of not only a god complex but also simultaneously a lot of self-loathing. She uses being the only magical girl in the multiverse and being the only one to kill Shadowmites as a point of ultimate power, seeing it as things people should worship them for. But at the same time she hates herself, she so lonely and mad at everyone including herself.

Because why did the world abandon her? Why did it hate a little girl who dared to dream about helping people just like the girls in her shows?

Why did her parents leave her before she could even remember them? Was she not good enough? Is she good enough now for them?

Why did that little weasel who keeps telling her to “remember” choose her? Why did it place such a burden on her shoulders? Was it cause she’s expendable?

And lastly why does it tear her apart seeing people look at her in fear? Why does it hurt when those heroes go flying through walls when she hits them? Why do her eyes water when theirs do as well?

Her outfits would definitely be the typical evil magical girl wear black type of thing but I feel like hers would almost look in a way godly and ethereal. But then become more and more disheveled and dark as she mentally cracks more and more.

(Sorry this was a long response lol)

[vertigoed]

everything i wanted | gojo satoru

Summary: Your best friend had turned into a cold blooded killer overnight and your boyfriend had to be his executioner. You couldn’t cope with the horrors and insanity being a sorcerer entailed and fled to the other side of the world without a single goodbye.  A decade has passed and you find yourself being a teacher at Jujutsu high, along with your high school sweetheart that you abandoned when he needed you the most. 

Warning: mention of drugs and depression 

MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You step out of the car with your hands tightly gripping your handbag, the familiar school gates stood tall before you and the memories instantly started flooding back. It felt like yesterday when you were having lunch with Gojo, Shoko and Geto underneath that maple tree. 

You were only 17 when you left Japan, unable to handle the tragedy of losing your boyfriend and your best friend in a span of a month. Your teenage self felt like the longer you stayed, the deeper the blade dug into your wounds so you packed your suitcase and left without looking back. 

You wanted a fresh start, somewhere you could be invisible and live a quiet life without the painful reminders of the past and the burden of having to protect others. 

It’s been a decade since the incident and you would think time has healed you, but it didn’t. Time has been nothing but cruel to you, flying by within a blink of an eye, and of course that was your fault. You did spend every waking moment trying to numb the pain with all sorts of substances.

With a deep breath, you begun walking with your head held high but silently praying to the Gods that you wouldn’t run into you know who. 

The only reason why you had returned to your home country was because Yaga had personally contacted you to ask you to come back to Japan and start teaching at Jujutsu Tech. At first you declined, after all, why would you go back to the place you were running away from? 

But then Yaga opened up the real reason why he needed you to come back so badly. There had been influx of unclassified special grade curses and curse users specifically attacking Jujutsu students. Three students had already died and the faculty staff were busy fighting off these attacks and in dire need of more help. 

He mentioned on the phone multiple times that “they can’t do this without you” so you were left with no choice but to say yes. 

Jujutsu Tech looked exactly the same as you had remembered, it was like you never left. 

You reminisced the old times as you walked on the same cobblestone path that you always chased Satoru on because he either stolen your MP3 player or he had said something to piss you off.

You smile to yourself, remembering how you thought you were such an adult back then because you were saving lives and all. But, in reality, you guys were all just kids being forced to play grown ups.

You walked deeper into the school grounds, enjoying the beautiful autumn scenery. The trees were adorned with hues of gold, red, and orange leaves, which flutter gently in the crisp breeze. 

“Y/N?”

Your heart sinks, mind began racing and palms sweating at the recognition of that voice. You slowly turned around, trying to keep your composure to look calm and collected. 

You had practiced for this moment for weeks now. You planned exactly what you were going to say but the moment he came into your vision, everything went out the window. 

“Hi?” your voice came out shaky and already your face started to heat up. 

Satoru looked the same but different, maybe a bit taller and his shoulders had gotten even broader than it already was. His blonde hair was still unruly as ever but instead of his signature glasses that he use to wear, his eyes were covered by a thick black bandana that also kept his long fringe away from his head. 

“I heard you were coming,” Satoru begun walking over to yours with a toothy grin, “You look great.” 

You noticed his voice had gotten deeper. You had always remembered Gojo as that cheeky 17 year old boy who was your first love. But, as he got closer, you started to realise time has aged him like fine wine. You blushed harder and looked away.  Just being in his presence has turned your brain to mush, making you wish you could sink into the ground and hide. 

“How have you been?” Satoru continued, eyeing you up and down. You felt self conscious all of a sudden, aware you weren’t as dolled up like you use to back in high school. 

“Ah, good, I guess,” you replied with a shrug, running your fingers through your hair to soothe your nerves, “I was living in London, haven’t really done any jujutsu in a while so interesting to see how that goes...” you trail off, peering up at him through your eyelashes to see his reaction. 

He still had a smile on his face like you were just telling him what you had for lunch. Never mind the fact that you two dated for a year and you had pretty much ghosted him after he had to execute his best friend. You abandoned Satoru when he needed you the most, so the fact that he was smiling brightly at you as if all was good, was secretly killing you inside. 

You wanted him to be angry, to go off at you and be petty, just so you can rid of the guilt that’s been deteriorating you. 

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine, you’re y/n the ice queen,” he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You grimaced at the mention of your innate cursed technique, more specifically when you are most emotionally charged, your cursed technique subconsciously manipulated matter into acid snow. Snow that would freeze burn your enemies. The last time you had accidentally manifested this was when you saw Satoru be stabbed in the neck and you had thought he had died. You were in hysterics to put it lightly and as you sobbed on the ground, you didn’t even realise it was snowing during that hot humid day.

At that time you didn’t know how to control the technique and ended up freezing several innocent bystanders. Satoru noticed your discomfort and hastily changed the subject.

“You look tired, want me to get you a coffee?” 

You shook your head, looking down at your fingers as you nervously play with your rings. You took a deep breath, and looked up at him, “Satoru... I’m really fucking sorry-”

“It’s okay, it was 10 years ago,” he cut you off with a wave of his hands, he grabbed your shoulder and ushered you to start walking with him, “Besides, I get it, it must’ve been hard for you.” 

You broke down straight away at his words, a rush of emotions flooded through you. The weight of the guilt and shame that you carried for a decade broke apart.

You tried to talk through your sobs but no words could come out. As you cried into your hands, you feel Gojo’s long arms wrap around you and pull you into a warm, familiar embrace. This only made you cry harder. You had missed his touch, his voice, his smell. You missed Satoru so much that you wasted your 20s trying to forget him. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his hand cradled the back of your head and his hug tightened as you sobbed harder, the emotional pain was too much for you to handle. 

“I-I’m so, so, so sorry,” you choked out between your cries, “I was selfish, I didn’t know how to deal with anything. I should’ve been there for you when you needed me the most, I honestly deserve to be hit by you-”

“Hey don’t say that.. come on, look at me,” he pulled away and removed his blindfold, gently cupping your chin so you would raise your head. Your tear soaked eyes met his sky blue blue orbs. 

And it that moment, you could swear the time had stopped. You were mesmerised to be put it lightly. His hypnotic eyes glistened in their own light with bright hues that twinkled like stars. You quickly looked away, knowing you were staring like a fool. 

“I knew my eyes would stop you from crying,” he said playfully as he softly wiped your tears from your cheeks. 

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, he was still as cocky as he was in high school. You wiped your snotty nose with the back of your sweater, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Come on, I’ll take you somewhere more private,” he casually draped his arm over your shoulder and you tried to ignore the pang of nostalgia that hit you, knowing all too well that you shouldn’t get use to this. 

You hated that despite the many years that had passed, being in his arm still felt like home. 

_________________________________________________

like for part 2 

[dailycharacteroption]

Races Among the Stars 9: Elves

(art by RoninDude on DeviantArt)

And we’re back with more playable species in Starfinder, and today we’re looking at another holdover from Pathfinder, elves!

Elves in particular are perhaps one of the easiest transfers from Pathfinder to Starfinder lore-wise, because it’s already canon that elves were already starfarers even in the distant past!

Indeed, the elves were originally from the second planet of the Mataras (later named Pact Worlds) system: Castrovel, where they lives mostly on their own on the continent of Sovyrian, content to mostly ignore the continuous wars between their neighbors, the formians and lashunta. However, with the help of the aiudara, or “elf-gates”, they traveled between planets, including Golarion and beyond, though the art of creating these gates was lost to the Age of Darkness of Golarion, when most of elf-kind abandoned Golarion for Castrovel when the disaster of Earthfall came.

The fact that there were those that did not led to many social divisions in elven society back then, with mainline elven culture being distrustful of other species bordering on xenophobic, the dark elves (or I suppose cavern elves now) being transformed by the underground, and of course, the elves that chose to remain behind being referred to by other elves as Forlorn due to being surrounded by death constantly due to outlasting the shorter-lived friends they choose, a term which is tinged with pity and contempt.

In the far-future of Starfinder, not much has changed. Mainline elven culture believes they have found evidence that they were betrayed during The Gap by one of the shorter-lived peoples, driving them to become insular and xenophobic after that great universal fugue ended, even bringing back the tradition of wearing masks around non-elves (to absorb the taint and shame of dealing with outsiders). However, the Forlorn still exist as well, written off as dead by their kin for choosing friendship with the wondrously varied and diverse people of the galaxy.

Elf-kind is not entirely without reason for their insular behavior in the post-Gap world, since, as a slow to change long-lived people, they were also slow to recover from the confusion left in it’s wake. Imagine exiting a fugue to find that one of your major cities and aiudara hubs was under the control of a dragon despot who charges exorbitant prices to use them, for example! Even still, even if they don’t know who exactly betrayed them, their attitude towards other species is backwards and toxic, as if their own people can do no wrong while the shorter-lived species are the root of their problems.

The elves themselves are somewhat human-like in appearance, being like tall and slender humans that move with exceptional grace, however, their ears are long and pointed, and their eyes are very different structurally, being almost entirely consumed by the iris similar to the eyes of deer or other prey animals. However, elves are surprisingly adaptive in their appearance as well, with their bodies slowly changing and adapting to whatever environment they live in. While this process is slow, an elf from a jungle world may shift away from browns, greens, and other colors in terms of hair, skin, and eye color to pale blue and white if they live near the artic circle of a world for several decades. Additionally, elves age much slower than most other species, and live much longer, which often alienates them from other species simply because they have less need to emotionally mature at the same rate as other species, leading them to wrongly consider the adults of other species as children despite the breadth of their experiences being nothing to sneeze at.

Despite their distrust of other species, the elves are not inherently bad, and do tend to value the same common good as most others. They do, however, tend to take the long view of things, willing to wait out problems that others would expect immediate responses to. However, when they are roused to action, their action tends to be decisive and precise, demonstrating an aptitude for planning and much consideration.

The elves do show a great appreciation for both the natural world and for magic, and tend to favor spellcraft over technological advancement in most things, though naturally there are exceptions. Where they don’t show exception is in incorporating their advancements with nature, being low-impact creations that do no harm to the environment and may in fact be biotech in nature.

As stated before, elves tend to be xenophobic, but the existence of the Forlorn is proof that this isn’t set in stone. Plenty of elves can grow to appreciate the unique perspectives and companionship of other species, and while they may be slow to trust, they will fight fiercely for those who they’ve bonded with.

Elves are typically agile and clever, but a bit frail.

They also sport enhanced resistance to spells that attack their mind, and are completely immune to magically compelled sleep.

Conversely, they have a particular aptitude for piercing magical resistance, as well as a knack for learning and understanding magic as a whole.

They also demonstrate keenly honed senses, picking up small details, and their eyes function well in low light.

Of course, some elves are built differently, and oftentimes Forlorn elves prove to be agile, but more amiable to others, though they lack some of the discretion of other elves.

Going further, plenty of elves have developed other traits, true to their adaptive nature. Those elves that were raised on the contienent of Asana tend to develop the telepathic abilities of their lashunta neighbors, for example. Others that have dwelled underground or lived nocturnal lifestyles develop even more keen night-eyes, while those who have become fixated on the supposed betrayal during the Gap sometimes become so distrustful that even illusions have a hard time fooling them. Some among the Forlorn develop a knack for bonding with others, and even turn their innate magic towards crossing language barriers. Some who were alive during the Gap have struggled with their clouded memories long enough that their minds become naturally resistant to all effects. Finally, some spend so much time away from civilization that they demonstrate superior survival skills.

With their agility, elves lend themselves well to operatives and precogs, as well as range-focused soldiers and nanocytes, the latter of whom might decide to become more one with nature or to become a being of wild magic. Heck, the tradition of elves using bows as weapons might be a good reason to try out a bow build with microserrated and grenade arrows. Of course, that isn’t to say that elves can’t do melee, though their low constitution makes it less appealing, especially if you’re considering the vanguard. However, their intelligence also makes mechanic and technomancer quite viable options, though perhaps more the technomancer side of things unless you give the character reason to eschew magic in favor of pure tech. On that note, they also make good studious biohackers as well. Their focus on magic also makes mystic and witchwarper good choices, though the latter benefits more if you use the forlorn variant stat array, as does envoy for obvious reasons. Again, their only real weakness is their con penalty, but they can easily get around that with some work.

That will do for today, but we have plenty more species to look at this week!

[funkygaypeopleinmyphone]

Nothing gets me into a fiery rage more than thinking about 343 has handled the Halo series after Bungie left it off on such a high note. 1, 2 and 3 were good, ODST and Reach were godlike, and they expanded on the universe quite a few times with books and comics and all that. And then 343 came in and just completely gumbled most of it up. CEA was cool, but basically just kitbashed Reach and upscaled Halo 3 assets together and lost some of the original touch the game had back in 2001.

Halo 4 was, ok? The best part was Cortana's story, going into more depth about rampancy and how it affects AI, especially one that we've known and loved for over a decade at that point. The Forerunners were fucking stupid personally, it's hinted to and LITERALLY SAID IN HALO 3, that humans are forerunners, just after the shitshow that was all the rings firing off. 343 Guilty Spark literally says that Chief is a forerunner, and then they just whipped it around and said "well actually he's a reclaimer because blablabla" ok whatever, they do flesh it out more in expanded works and explain it in Halo 4 so atleast theres that. Del Rio is an asshole to the savior of humanity for no reason. The sudden art style change that makes no sense is stupid, like you could've delayed the change until the Infinity rolled around. The Diadact is just space voldemort turning humanity into NFTs after being on r/nofap for 100,000 years, who then dies pretty unceremoniously to a shit ass grenade in a quick time event.

Halo 5 is.... fucking just Halo 5. The Cortaba story is so bad, why did you bring her back as an antagonist? Why didn't you stick to the marketing that was actually a really cool idea about Chief going rogue and hunting the truth. Where are the Marines? Why do I have to fight the Warden Eternal like 20 times? Better balancing than 4 i guess, but god the plot is just all over the place. And that fight scene with Chief, Chief was abducted as a child and forced into the spartan program and trained to be a cold brutal killer of the UNSC's foes. Without Mjolnir armor he straight up merked 2 ODSTs in hand-to-hand combat. This 7-foot-augmented-out-the-ass man had an equal match in a mass produced Spartan 4? Sure Locke is ONI so he's got some spice to him and he's still a Spartan wearing similar armor to Chief, but come on, you can't tell me a guy who saves humanity for breakfast is on a similar level to Halo Nightfall guy.

Infinite is strange. They basically drop Halo 5's characters for the most part, give Chief new (remastered Mk.6) armor, bring back older models of guns and stuff with a new coat of paint (Reach AR, Battle Rifle, now the DMR) and blow up Cortana and the Infinity within the first like, 30 minutes of the game. Ooooo the Banished except wait after Atriox's not-death they're pretty incompetent and are gettinf roflstomped by Chief and are really only good at killing UNSC off screen. The open world shit was ok, but for Halo i dont think its entirely the best idea to go for whatever Far Cry ass shit they pulled. Bringing back the old designs was really cool and much better than the sterile, clean, sharp edges of 4 and 5. Their armor and weapons looked like brand new toys while Infinite's look more realistic and have a bit more wear and tear to em. But its also missing a ton and just kind of ends off on a weird half note for the story. Like where are they gonna go with this? Idk, its just weird.

343, make more stories without Chief. I know Chief is the figurehead of the franchise, but for god's sake please please please make side stories in the universe. I want to see how humanity recovered after the war, how the different species in the Covenant took the end of the war. Exploring Forerunner sites? Side stories in the human-covenant war with ODSTs and Marines! You could totally make the Harvest campaign into a game! Give us the origin story for Sgt Johnson and how he and others did during the opening months of the conflict! Give us more on the Insurrection! You've done it before, Halo Forward Unto Dawn was actually a really cool movie, why don't you do some more stuff like that??

Idk, I love Halo but 343 gotta step their game up

[ratsoh-writes]

I (E)already have the best (Pop)

--- match up time

*throws Briar back into the ring from the dating website*

Personality traits: very responsible, attentive, and actually went to therapy upon reaching the surface- that therapy helps with her crippling anxiety. She's always trying to accomplish goals instead of worrying about when the other shoe will drop. This is fueled by her hope for the future and her sister.... and surprisingly doesn't get too overwhelmed as they do consider their limits. She carries around a small notebook and will eat pages of it when they are alone and stressed. While Briar has worked very hard on their composure, stressful situations will slip the collected mask, and she'll be a bit of a stressed mess.

Deal breakers/pet peeves: Be aware her sister is a huge part of their life. After the results of their AU, they are the only family they have left and she almost even lost that. Any expression of inconvenience her sister brings (giant bulky van, constantly giving rides, being talked into even more activities) will be met with disapproval. Only Briar can complain about Aspen. Briar also greatly dislikes anyone who does not keep in contact with their family without good reason.

Attractive traits: despite being from the HF au, Briar didn't suffer much physical damage, and 'recovered' fairly quickly physically after working with a meal plan. They are still not at their top strength where they used to be before the famine, but can achieve it in the next decade. Because of this, most of her horns are made of her own magic (Bitrots hair/antler styles can weave in items or supplements to improve size or quality of magical antlers. As a reminder this is very important to their culture). Briar is, again, very responsible. She is also very honest (blunt?), and prides themselves on that fact both in and out of work.

Hobbies: EVERYTHING. No, but, like, everything. She needs goals and her sister keeps signing her up for things. What are the items that stick and they keep going back to? Baking and cooking of new and creative items! For physical activity right now it's Zumba, but she'd like to get her hips and ankles back to health for track and tennis. If it's a nice day, acrylic scenery painting is lovely. And volunteer work. Nothing silences foreboding anxiety like helping others when they ask for help.

Favorite items: Hot chocolate. Leafy greens and fresh veggies. Sticky note pads (they taste like walnut.... Not that she'll intend to eat them initially). Whip cream on any dessert. Haikus. Fabric with really nice thread count. Persimmons. Dandelions. Her van being clean. (Genuine compliments)

Physical description: bitrot monster from a fell universe so they have pauldrons. No large scars or any scars on their face. Just the usual wear and tear. Without accounting for horns, she can stand up to 6'7" tall. Like most bitrots, black colored magic on the hands and horns. Horn style changes usually every other week. Despite a calm facial expression, their ears often move around for better hearing of those around her.

Oh this is an easy one! I match briar with…. Honey!!! Underswap paps!

Honey is very attracted to the responsible put together types, so he’d definitely be the one to fall first in this relationship! It’ll be nice for briar to be chased for once I think. She’ll never have to question how committed he is.

Honey is good for a crafty SO as he’s down to try most hobbies with them. He’s a good baker, but clumsy in other activities. But that’s fine! He’s here for a good time, not a hard time!

There shouldn’t be any problems with her sister. I mean, it’s honey? If they end up having issues with each other, it’s clearly the universe against them as honey isn’t the type to pick fights. He’s used to a large family and can roll with the chaos of active siblings, cousins and in-laws easily.

Hopefully briar is open to kids someday though. That’s something honey can’t compromise on. He wants at least 2.

[mercuriians]

May I request a femreader x Sakura (Naruto) story? Reader has a dream of a small retelling of Rapunzel. Reader climbs Sakura's hair and is happy to talk to her. The story doesn't advance in reader's dream as Reader just happily talks to Sakura. She then wakes up from the dream, surprised to see Sakura waking Reader up.

princess in pink

content info — fem! reader, fluffy drabble, lowkey a disney crossover.

word count — 1.0k words.

author’s note — thank you for the request anon!! i apologize for taking an actual eternity to write this 🙁, my sense of motivation was not kind to me. however, the good news is that it’s back now! this story is a little on the shorter side but i hope you guys enjoy it still. :)

all around the town, there’s been word of a beautiful, fair young girl who can only be found within a spiraling tower.

it's a myth as common as can be, having survived a decade of being passed around and exchanged like a silver coin. most of the people believed it, of course, ever since the village's princess mysteriously went missing, but there were always those who remained unaffected by all the talk. "people will say anything nowadays," they'd say with a scoff before proceeding on with their usual day-to-day business. you, like the majority, stood firm by the myth. however, unlike the majority, your spirit was fierce, unrestrained, and above all, inquisitive. in your eyes, everything was a challenge waiting to be beaten, a puzzle waiting to be understood. so, naturally, you vowed to prove to everyone that the story was in fact real, and that there was someone who genuinely needed help.

because there was no way that the village's princess was dead.

two days after you turned eighteen, you finally ventured outside the town walls, carrying nothing with you but a lamp. you were dressed simply, wearing your weathered boots and an onyx cloak that ensured you stayed hidden amidst the shadows of the night. you'd also stolen your father's dagger just before you left, figuring that you might as well be prepared for anything. you were adventurous, but you weren't daft. safety wasn't guaranteed when you were essentially leaving behind the sole place you'd ever known. but then again, you suppose, that was part of what made this escapade so exhilarating.

so you set off on your awaited journey, not knowing what to expect and yet expecting everything all the same.

but, after four days of searching all over the land, scribbling unprecedented areas into your little map, and relying on the surprisingly delicious berry bushes you were fortunate enough to stumble upon, maybe the one thing you didn’t anticipate was the overwhelming long, thick, silky rope of rosy hair dangling over the grand tower’s open window, its ends touching the grass-covered grounds of the clearing. your eyes widened.

there was someone inside that tower—the princess.

after taking a brief but thorough look at the building, you deduced that there was no other way to get in, so you started walking towards the rope of pink hair. carefully, you set foot on it, steadying yourself as best you could. a few seconds passed, and with a sharp inhale, you felt yourself being lifted, the hair being used as leverage as you got closer and closer to the window. voluntarily, you willed yourself not to look down.

it was only a minute later that you found yourself face-to-face with the lost princess herself, your mouth completely agape as you took a moment to process several truths all at once. the rumors were in fact true—of course they were—and the princess was alive and well, and wow were her emerald eyes always so captivating—

"you've come to save me," she says a little breathlessly, gaze clearly bright with joy. "after all these years, i've been found! please, tell me your name."

the sound of her smooth voice is enough to shake you out of your stupor. clearing your throat and disregarding your momentary embarrassment, you offer her a smile as politely as possible before bending into a bow. "(y/n), princess sakura. i'm glad that i've finally located you. the village has been in a deep state of unrest ever since you disappeared."

for a moment, sakura's smile tightens, but she regains her composure so swiftly that you question whether you were merely hallucinating. "i'm sorry to have caused all the worry. it's all a bit of a long story, but i'll make sure to tell you it later. how did you find me?"

you explain the details of your journey to the princess, and she nods along attentively, her eyes rarely leaving yours. her soft giggle wafts through the air when you comment on how the berries you found lined up along the dirt path were a delicious, convenient snack. "when we get back to the village, remind me to bake you a blueberry pie," she hums pleasantly. "think of it as my way of saying thank you."

you can't stop the way a rosy blush dusts over your cheeks. “it’s alright, really,” you protest weakly. “i’m okay.”

sakura’s smile drops a bit, a more stern expression passing over her face. “are you refusing a gift from the princess herself?” she asks with a fair sense of sass, her lithe fingers curling around her hip for good measure. it’s rather cute, especially with the pout she’s now maybe unintentionally wearing, but you keep that observation to yourself.

immediately you shake your head, a slightly nervous smile ghosting across your lips. “not at all, i promise,” you assure her. “thank you kindly, my lady.”

the two of you talk for a long while, exchanging remarks until it seems like time has worn itself thin. it never registers in your mind that the nature of the reality eventually grows hazy, almost as if the moment has been frozen in place like a lake during winter. really, all you’re able to focus on is the princess in front of you, with her soft rosy hair and easy smile. her scent is delicate, somewhat like strawberries, but there’s a sense of a kind yet assertive strength that sharpens her gaze. it’s one that somehow gives you an impression of what the princess thinks of you—as equals, as people who stand on the same ground. it’s a nice, comforting feeling.

but then the world starts to shift, and you start to feel someone shaking you awake. that’s when you realize that your reality—the one you’d been living in before—has ultimately never even existed. light pours into your line of vision, and with a small groan, you look up. fortunately, a familiar pair of emerald eyes is there to greet you.

“hey there, sleepyhead,” sakura laughs, fondly flicking you on the forehead. “nap time’s over. did you dream of anything?”

[eldritchnoms]

To be within your God...

Where others would go insane you found happiness and comfort, staying next to the god who made you feel safe despite his nature.

Fandom: King in Yellow

2 endings: Endosoma and Sentient fat (Endosoma is posted before Sentient fat)

Words: 3811/4213/5011

CW: gooey non-fatal digestion, reformation mention, eldritch pred

This was one of the most unexpected things that could’ve ever happened to you. Nothing could have possibly prepared you for such an outcome, yet you didn’t complain, because this is, perhaps, the greatest outcome you could’ve wished for.

It was a weekend, and right now you were sitting in the embrace of an eldritch god, who was known through a certain book and stageplay by many as the King in Yellow… Hastur himself… He was gently caressing your back and giving you gentle scratches, purring as you massaged his chest. It all happened so strangely- You found the book, but despite knowing that it will drive you insane you still read it, your curiosity was eating at you. Yet even after the second chapter you still felt fine, you were fascinated with what you’ve read! The true meaning of life, the meaning behind the humankind… It shocked and maybe scared you a bit, but nothing really drove you insane. After this you did get a bit obsessive though, making one of your rooms into a small shrine to show your appreciation to the King, sacrificing him food and some cute things like plushies, cozy blankets. You didn’t dare to gift monetary things or jewelry; you knew the King does not wear a crown or fancy rich gifts…

After some time you found one of his belongings… a cute handmade pin with his symbol on it… You took it with you and added to your shrine, but you possessing it now made the King come over to you personally. He stood in the middle of your room, looming over you, obviously being so much taller than an average human being. His yellow robes gently swayed and moved around like they were alive, ribbons carefully inspected you as you just stood there, frozen, too stunned to do anything. He was wearing a pale, ceramic mask that covered his face, yet allowed you to clearly see his shiny, black and gold eyes that were shaped like one of a cuttlefish. The King reached his palm out to you and asked to give his pin back, but you didn’t move, just staring at him… You carefully took his hand and kissed the back of it, stroking it gently, which left Hastur dumbfounded- “What do you think you are doing?” he wanted to ask, but didn’t get a chance as you came closer and hugged him, nuzzling his silky robes…

“I am not sure what is happening within your mind, but I did not come to play your games, young one.” King spoke in a stern tone, taking you and gently pulling away from himself.

“My apologies, my King… I just never thought I…would actually see you personally…” you start, “It’s so unbelievable, it’s something I’ve been wishing for since I’ve read your book! And now you are here!” a smile spreads across your face as you reach to gently rub the mask, “I will return your pin, my King, just please, let me spend some time with you… At least 5 minutes…”

To say that Hastur was appalled is to say nothing. Mortals rarely react to his existence in any way but screaming in absolute horror and going crazy. Some ask for mercy, some ask to serve him just to save their skin, but you- What even are you? What drives you to be so fascinated by the eldritch god of knowledge and chaos, decadence and insanity? Yet… Despite feeling lost Hastur also felt intrigued, fascinated… Because it is indeed a rare sight… And to tend to his curiosity he decided to agree to stay with you for a bit. This made you so happy…

The next 5 minutes you just spent in his embrace, hugging the large being and snuggling in his robes. The ribbons were wrapping around you in a sort of hug, rubbing and gently squeezing you as they felt how relaxed you were. Amazing… so stunning… And you were just happy to feel his warmth, be caressed and stroked… Since then the King would regularly visit you. He ultimately made a decision to let you keep his pin, so he could easily find you and come to you no matter where you were, visit you and tend to you… Hastur never thought that he will grow so attached to a simple human, yet there he was, now laying with you on a sofa and hugging you… He usually wasn’t too talkative, he was a being of action rather than speech. He would ask simple questions like if you are hungry or tired, or would like to go anywhere on walks, but very often he’d bring you nice and comfy clothes, would brush your hair, help you take baths, give you massages and such, gift you pastries he baked himself. Too bad you couldn’t tell anyone about him… Hastur would be fun at parties! The King enjoyed simple walks in parks, forests or mountains the most. Considering his natural ability to teleport almost wherever he’d like, traveling around with him was so wonderful! In a blink of an eye you both could go anywhere your hearts desired, admire the nature, the culture, everything the earthly places had to offer… And no matter how much you stayed with the King you were always as fascinated by him as ever… So now you were wrapped up in his robes, hugged and caressed, enjoying a moment before Hastur would leave again…

This would be yet another calm day, if not for you finding out a very specific trait of the eldritch god. He enjoyed grooming himself from time to time- Perhaps your ideas about his robes being a part of him aren’t so bizarre now. You were watching TV together as that happened, he just suddenly turned a bit away and started licking his arm. You did spot a wound there, so maybe it was the cause-

“Hey, Hassie? Is everything alright?” you asked him, gently rubbing his back.

“Ah? Yes, everything is indeed alright.” King replied as he looked at you, “My apologies, but I am trying to seal my wound up faster so it would stop bothering me.” he explained before continuing.

You watched him gently brush his silky looking tongue against the surface of his robe and skin, blushing a bit at the sight- His wound indeed sealed up quite fast after this, leaving a small scar behind, just as you were about to offer him bandages. But you also kept thinking of this- Of how his tongue would feel, how nice it would be and how you also want to get a cute tongue bath-

“Um… Hastur-? I know it’s going to sound really weird, but- Can you please tongue bathe me-?” you ask, stumbling on your words a bit.

“Did I hear you correctly, dear?” King looked at you, “You wish to be tongue bathed by me?”

“Y-yes-“ your face turned a bit red in embarrassment, “How you were cleaning your arm looked so… nice and cute… And your tongue looks so soft and silky…” you almost whisper to him.

“I never thought that humans are interested in such activities and would give such compliments.” King tilted his head.

“It’s quite unnatural, really… It’s considered a kink or a fetish in some ways.” you shrug a bit, “We don’t tongue bath each other, you know?”

“That I know, of course. It is just odd to hear from a human, but I am not here to judge you.” the King carefully made you lay down before he leaned down to you, “Are you sure you want this? I would not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oi-!” you blush deeply as this massive hunk of a beast leans down to you, “I- I don’t! At all! It will be an honor really!” you giggle a bit like an absolute fool, going silent and gasping as he started to undress you, knowing clothes are not a part of you. And did you stop him? No. Why would you? You really wanted this and you were struggling to hold yourself away from just hugging and kissing him all over. He left your underwear and tank top on though.

Once your clothes were off Hastur’s hot breath brushed against your skin, tickling it a bit, and then you felt a very gentle and soft lick against your belly… His tongue was just as soft and silky like his robes… Made you think that perhaps you are right, the yellow tattered clothes are indeed a part of him- But you clean your head off of any thoughts as you just start to enjoy the process, relaxing~ Hastur’s thick tongue gently brushed against your body, coating you in a thin layer of slime and saliva as he was determined to cover every inch of you, besides the private parts- Eldritch god was starting to purr, blushing as he enjoyed this little odd session, and so you were getting flustered, blushing as well as you hugged the King…

A very strange thought ran through your mind… You gently rubbed Hastur’s head, scratching it and making him purr even louder, all while thinking of him… eating you… A shiver went down your spine- Just why did you think of it?! Hastur noticed your distress and immediately stopped, and involuntarily listening to your thoughts-

“My dear, what’s wrong?...” he asked, putting his mask back on, sitting up and putting you on his lap, “Is everything alright?...”

“Y..yes… Yes, I’m sorry for interrupting you, I just remembered something- weird- You know?” you gesture a bit as you tried to excuse yourself.

“…” the King just stared at you for some time before gently stroking your head, “I… accidentally looked into your mind and… saw what you wanted me to do-“ he said a bit awkwardly and shyly-

Well, that sent you into a panicking fit as you trembled and held onto Hastur’s robe, “N-no! Please, don’t say anything! Don’t even keep this in mind, it was just a weird thought!” he most likely knew you are a bit of a vorarephiliac, but since he is a creature not familiar with human behavior you’ve got scared he may actually do this to you-

“Even if I would eat you it would be safe, my dear.” he says, petting you gently and stroking your back to calm you down, “I can easily control my acids, and if I do digest you I could reform you with no trouble. And the process itself isn’t painful in the slightest.” King explains, carefully brushing your hair with his claws. Wait, so… he was okay with this? And- it’s all safe?...

“I… I didn’t think you would be into this kind of thing…” you say.

“Ah, I have a big village and a huge palace with loads of people under my care. I did meet some like you before and they trust me with eating them.” he held his hand at his core, smiling a bit behind a mask, “I would not hurt someone who trusts and helps me, and I definitely would never hurt someone I love and adore.” King leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss.

You blushed and froze a bit, looking up at him before carefully hugging and nuzzling him. Hastur just gently rubbed your back and gave you gentle scratches.

“If you would like to try this I am ready to provide. Just make sure to not punch and scratch me too much.” King chuckled, squishing your cheeks gently.

“Owki-“ you chuckled as he squished your cheeks. You took his hands and gently rubbed them, “Alright… I think I’m ready-“ a slightly nervous sigh escapes you.

“Alright, my dear. But please, if you will panic too much just tell me to spit you out. I will not keep you trapped within my gut.” Hastur says, smiling softly, “Would you like me to engulf you feet first or head first?”

Now that was a tough question- Do you want to gaze down a pulsing abyss as you slide down a tight, slimy gullet to the King’s tight stomach as he rubs your sides and tastes you? Or do you want to see him slowly swallow you, inching up your body, lapping at you and holding your hand for comfort? Goodness, that was so hard…

“Feet first please…” you whisper, looking away shyly, but leaning into a pet once Hastur gently rubbed your cheek.

“Then so be it.” he nodded, leaning down to nuzzle your head and kiss it.

You smile and giggle, scritching underneath Hastur’s chin to make him purr and taking his mask off. King leans down to peck your cheek, smiling and hugging you. Soon he moves backwards a bit and leans down to your legs. His eyes glanced at you, watching to make sure you still were fine with this idea and didn’t change your mind. Seeing your pink from blushing face was like a signal that he can start. King carefully took your feet in his mouth and started to engulf, going down your legs slowly and gently to not scare you… His plush tongue brushed against your flesh, tasting it and leaving trails of slime and saliva, soft flesh pulsed around them with every light gulp. It felt so nice and relaxing, even if strange… Your toes could feel warm, slimy flesh… Once King reached your hips you weren’t ashamed anymore, you were just content, enjoying the pulsing of his throat as he swallowed more of you. Hastur wasn’t teasing you and was very gentle, only licking at your sides sometimes for more flavor.

Soon you felt your toes press against the floor of his stomach. That made you flinch, but you calmed down quickly as King held your hand. His shiny eyes were filled with worry and care as he stopped swallowing, making sure you are okay… “I’m… I’m good…” you nodded, smiling and gently squeezing his hand. He nodded and continued, getting to your chest, then neck, leaving only your arms and head… It was so weird, so surreal, but here you are, with almost your whole body engulfed… King’s soft insides pulsed around you, trying to pull you down more, yet he kept you still, waiting for you to give him a sign that you are ready to be swallowed fully… Once you nod he carefully slurps the rest of you up and finally gulps you down, rubbing over the large bulges you were making on his chest and abdomen. It was a fast trip, and soon you were in a slightly cramped, silky stomach- Hastur muffled a belch and laid down onto his side, exhaling and rubbing his belly.

You were in a slight shock for some time before you finally made a move, reaching to touch a surprisingly soft and smooth wall- Around the flesh some patterns were drawn around, emitting a soft glow that lit up the place enough for you to see. Walls made it looked like you were inside a ball made out of bandages, like a mummy- They had a dark violet color, had weird “seams” on them and were just a bit slimy, not enough to soak you. Suddenly though a seam opened up and you saw an eye, which made you squeak in fear.

“Ah, my apologies, my dear!” Hastur said, closing that eye- “I just wanted to make sure you are alright in there… You did not make a sound until now…”

“Oi, I- I’m quite okay, just- maybe a bit shocked…” you reply, sighing a bit shakingly before sitting up as best as you could and rubbing the silky walls, “Weird belly, patterns, eyes… Well- you are an eldritch god after all!” you chuckled.

“Yes, yes… Those eyes are were so I could see my prey and make sure they are feeling alright and don’t need any medical attention. I did have one cultist who lost his consciousness once I swallowed him-“ King rubbed the back of his head, a bit embarrassed.

“To be honest I’m kinda surprised I didn’t-“ you giggle shyly, “It was a bit scary- I… This whole being eaten thing is usually just a fantasy, you know?..”

“Yes, I understand. But you can rest assured that no matter what course of actions you will chose from that point on – you will be safe and sound.” Hastur said, patting his belly and feeling over the bulges you were making.

“Course of actions… Well for now I would like to just- rest here…” you said, carefully lying down and listening to soft growls of King’s gut. Huh… this is just how you imagined it in your mind… Soft, warm… The steady breathing of the King was like a song, his core vibrated and made soft “beats” to accompany the atmosphere. The more you listened the more you relaxed and enjoyed it, smiling and nuzzling the soft walls, rubbing them, which made Hastur purr happily, “This…is so nice…” you whispered, gently rubbing between the “ribbons” of the stomach, “I like it…”

“Mmm… I’m glad you are starting to enjoy it, my dear.” King rubbed his belly, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you or scare you this way, I hope you know that.”

“Of- of course. It’s just that primal fear that almost overtook me…” you nod.

“I understand it.” Hastur purred, summoning ribbons inside his stomach for them to wrap around you in a hug, “If you would want anything from me then please just ask.”

“Alrighty, thank you, Hastur.” you smiled and snuggled up within the silky ribbons. Your curiosity did take you over a little and you started to fidget a bit. You rubbed a bit at the pyloric sphincter, and that made Hastur jump, which in turn shook you. Oh well- better not touch it- You collected some slime, squishing it and humming. It was warm and soft, wet, of course. Oddly, it smelled of bananas and some lemons… You noticed eyes watching you, so you smiled and waved, showing that you are just exploring before you’d make a next move.

Endosoma ending

A couple of hours passed, at least it felt like it. King was trying to watch a TV, but from feeling so full, since he was much smaller than his regular size as he ate you, he was napping right now. You didn’t mind, resting as well as the churning and the soft gurgles cradled you. That was quite the best rest you’ve gotten in the past few years- King didn’t squirm at all and didn’t even snore. He was laying on a sofa, covered with a fluffy duvet, hand serving as a support for his head. He would occasionally make strange yet silent “growls” that sounded like that of a lion, but it didn’t exactly have a follow up. Sometimes his ribbons would squish his belly gently and hug it, acting on their own accord in a way, or the King was just acting in his sleep. This whole thing made you very happy, especially the little hugs.

Staying inside a belly like that still was a little weird, but quite fine. You didn’t think this would be possible, but here you are. You looked around again, looking at the glinting patterns and watching the walls squeeze as they churned. Stomach was growling softly, faintly, and would occasionally churn around you. A soft sigh escaped you as you reached to rub more, brushing against the soft flesh, getting your palms a bit slimy. If only you could bring snacks to this place- Might as well leave it only for work and studies. Hmm… You probably should ask him about the snacks part-

Quite soon though the King woke up, yawning and stretching nicely, which squeezed you just a bit and woke you up as well.

“Oh goodness-“ an eye in his belly saw you awakened, “My deepest apologies… I didn’t want to wake you up…”

“No no, it’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping for quite a while now!” you stretched too, “If I’d sleep for any more I wouldn’t be sleeping this night.” you chuckled and patted a wall, “Do you want to let me go or can I stay for some more time?”

“As much as I would love to stay for longer and keep you inside I need to go back to my palace.” King rubbed his belly gently, “You are not ready to leave with me yet.”

You nodded, sighing and sitting up carefully, pushing a bit against esophageal sphincter. Hastur held back a burp and went to get a basin and towels before carefully pushing up the bottom of his belly, starting to regurgitate you. Walls squeezed against you a bit hard, pushing you up King’s esophagus towards his throat. It was a challenge to spit out a whole human, even if swallowing them was quite easier for him- Some slime and saliva dripped from his mouth, landing in a basin he prepared just for that. He carefully rubbed the bulges you were making on his chest, making sure you were alright. You had to stop moving almost completely for Hastur to have easier time spitting you out, and after some struggle he finally managed to regurgitate you, letting you lay on a towel.

You were all so slimy and wet, a bit winded, but fine. You wiped the slime off your face and looked up at Hastur, smiling.

“You desperately need a bath.” he said.

“Yeah-“ you giggled, getting picked up in his arms, “Are you gonna help me again?~”

“Of course.” King nodded, carrying you away to a bathroom. He put all your clothes to wash, filled a tub up for you, adding bubbles and flavory soaps, smiling as he scrubbed you with a sponge as he cleaned off all the slime. You were really content with this, smiling happily and leaning into the gentle touch of a god, humming and sometimes reaching to scratch his chin. After a prolonged bath you were dried, dressed up in warm pajamas and fed. King decided that you need some good food after staying inside him for quite a while, so he cooked you a hearty meal and brewed you some green tea with a spoonful of honey.

“Thank you so much, Hastur.” you smiled, “I had a great time with you!”

“I am glad, yes.” Hastur rubbed your head, “It was an interesting experience for me as well, especially feeling you becoming more familiar and trustful of me.” he chuckled, “If you would ever want to just rest inside me then feel free to tell me. I would gladly keep you within my body.”

You nodded, nuzzling up to him, but soon having to say goodbye to him. Of course it wasn’t the final one, and you were excited for his next visit. Just every time he leaves you feel a bit lonely.

Sentient fat ending

You crossed your arms then and started thinking… You thought about King’s words regarding this whole thing. How this is safe even if he digests you and you will just be reformed… He even said it’s not painful… But will it be gory?

“Hastur?” you called.

“What’s the matter?” Hastur asked, rubbing over you.

“Can you please explain your…digestive process? You said it’s not painful and not fatal, but… I’d like to hear more..”

Hastur hummed, realizing what you want to do, and nodded, “Alright, listen then, my dear. The acids my stomach secretes are slimy and gooey, that look a bit like purple caramel of sorts. They only tingle your body gently, but don’t hurt or do any damage while dissolving clothes. Once they seep into your body they will start to gently soften you up, melting you slowly, like you are an ice cream on a hot sunny day.” Hastur was explaining, “After you will fully melt into a colorful mush you will be drained further down my system to get absorbed completely.” he patted his belly gently, “There will be fluffy villi to scoop the mush up and ingest, but you probably will sleep through this.”

You nodded, humming and looking around. That didn’t sound bad, and it did match with how you usually imagined that process… Thinking of it made you smile a bit as you looked into one of the eyes, “Would you like to…let me try this?”

“You want to be digested, my dear?”

“Y..yeah- I kinda do.” you nodded, “But after digesting- is there anything else you can do besides immediately reforming me?”

“Ah yes, of course. I can store you on the pudge your digested form will give me~” King purred, blushing softly, “We will be able to talk, you will feel my every touch, the brush of my silk, and you will be safe and cosy~”

That made you blush- It sounded so nice and perhaps even a bit intimate. Being a part of your beloved King? Even if just for some time? It’s an opportunity you shouldn’t miss! It scared you a bit though, “Will I be okay?”

“You will be. Just like I said before.” King rubbed his belly, patting it, “I will just reform you once you will feel like you had enough of fun.” he chuckled softly.

You hummed, scratching your shoulder shyly before exhaling, “I think I’m certain I want this… I want to become one with you, my King… Want us to be together…” you nuzzled his wall and kissed it.

Hastur smiled, humming softly as he settled down more comfortably both for you and him, “Then settle down nicely, my dear~ It will be warmer soon~” he hums, hearing his belly starting to growl more and a bit louder.

You pressed your hand against where his palm was, smiling before looking around. You spotted some slime starting to drip down from the walls, pooling underneath you lazily and bubbling a bit. You lowered your hand to it, scooping a bit up and feeling just a little bit tingly, but mostly ticklish. It was odd, but also fascinating. The walls around you started churning just a bit, rubbing some acids onto your body so they’d start working. Hastur did watch you still, making sure you were feeling fine, and you indeed were. You smiled as you spotted his eyes again, splashing a bit in the slime as it rose to your hips. You could feel them starting to dissolve your clothes, quite efficiently; your body felt warm, felt like it was getting massaged all over. Such a strange sensation, but god, you loved it~ Leaning down against a wall you started to relax, smiling contently as walls churned, helping the acids with softening you up to soon break your body down.

King was rubbing his belly actively, sloshing it gently and feeling over you. He muffled some burps, but a particularly big one managed to escape him, squeezing you a bit. He was very apologetic, but you just giggled and said it was all fine. No matter how many times he did this he always felt lovely at his core that people trust him like this and are willing to do this. As much as Hastur still didn’t understand why some people wanted this he was ready to give them such comfort, it didn’t take anything from him, it only gave him more affection. And chub- Thankfully his metabolism didn’t require him to work it all off for a long time, it eventually would go away.

At this point you were quite soft and mushy, like a creamy dish of sorts. The sensation was oddly pleasant, vibrations from Hastur’s purring were going through your whole melty body, the churning massaged you and cradled, making you soon start to nod off before you’d get drained further down. To the King it was for the best, it was your first time after all, no need to overwhelm you with all these new feelings. King watched his belly start to slowly shrink down, gurgling happily as it worked around his sweet prey. He blushed, purring louder and closing his eyes to fully dive into the blissful pleasure. Once it was all done his guts let out a final, loud growl, and he let a burp escape him. No shame in some indulgence. King felt your essence settling in within a pudge on his doughy belly, so he reached to put his hand on it and smile.

You gasped and woke up, feeling really weird and not yourself. You could squirm and move a bit, and as you did so you heard King chuckling.

“That tickles~” he hummed.

“Oh! Oh god- I-“ you stutter a bit, squirming more, “I’m- I’m actually a part of you-“ you squeak and make his belly blush, “Your body is so warm and cosy…”

“I told you it will be all fine and pleasant~” King purred, stroking his belly more, “You gave me quite some pudge~ My followers will love it~”

“Wait- You- Are you taking me to the palace?” you ask.

“Yes yes, I think like this it will be all safe.” Hastur nods, getting up carefully and stretching, which made his belly jiggle just a bit, “I will let you go as soon as you will tell me you want to.”

“Aww.. Thank you, my King~” you chuckle, snuggling up on his chub, feeling happy and relaxed, especially as robes brushed against you, “Do your followers give you belly rubs?”

“…Why yes- of course-“ he sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Does that mean all the rubs they will give you I will feel as well-?” you blush too, giggling, “I can’t wait to feel that!”

King blushed even more, making you feel a bit hot even. He wrapped himself up in his robes and made a portal to teleport back to his palace. It’s going to be a wonderful day, you were absolutely sure! Warm and safe, cosy place accompanied with soon to follow belly rubs from Hastur’s followers promised to be absolutely amazing~ You just need to not lose yourself too much in bliss, or you could probably stay here for weeks-

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour opening weekend: Tears, joy and ‘therapy’

Fans descend on Glendale, Ariz. (a.k.a. ‘Swift City’) for a long-awaited chance to commune with their pop icon, revel in her lyrics and express their true selves

By Emily Yahr

GLENDALE, ARIZ. — Taylor Swift had endless choices when deciding how to kick off her first concert tour in nearly five years on Friday night, a captivating spectacle that stretched over three hours and included 44 songs. After starting with a brief snippet of “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,” the namesake song to her 2020 Netflix documentary, she launched directly into “Cruel Summer.”

As the track’s hazy opening synth-pop beats blasted through State Farm Stadium, you could hear the gasps, with simultaneous shouts of “OH MY GOD!” barely heard above the ecstatic mayhem (and in some cases, heaving sobs) among the nearly 70,000 in attendance. Swift, resplendent in a shimmering bejeweled silver bodysuit and matching knee-high boots, beamed at the crowd, because she knew exactly what she was doing.

Swift fans believe that, in a parallel universe, “Cruel Summer” (the yearning anthem on her 2019 album, “Lover,” about a steamy and toxic relationship, with a chorus that demands you sing-scream along) was destined to be the song of the summer of 2020, released as a single as Swift planned to embark on a series of festivals called Lover Fest. Obviously, the global bummer of 2020 happened instead. Yet the obsession with “Cruel Summer” persisted, especially because Swift had never performed it live.

So this wasn’t just a song. For many, this was a stinging, subconscious reminder of how much we lost and what could have been. It was also a moment of pure, delirious joy — not only because of the thrill of hearing a beloved song live for the first time, but also because it’s clear that even one of the most powerful celebrities on the planet had felt all of that, too. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that at the top of her first show on her Eras Tour — 52 dates of sold-out stadiums — she wanted to pick up right where she’d left off before the world shut down.

“I don’t know how to process all of this and the way that it’s making me feel right now,” Swift told the stadium when the song was over, her voice slightly shaking. Later, she added: “I’m really, really, really overwhelmed, and I’m trying to keep it together all night.”

ying to keep it together” has rarely applied to the 33-year-old Swift, who, nearing the end of a second decade as a professional musician, has ascended to a rare, glorified status as a once-in-a-generation pop star. She has no chill. After rising to fame with songs about her awkward, unpopular teen years, she now embraces cringe and earnestness. That’s part of the draw for her legion of fans, who see her as one of them. After Ticketmaster melted down during sales for the Eras Tour, the parent company’s chairman went on the defensive by pointing to the extreme demand, claiming that the number of people trying to buy tickets “could have filled 900 stadiums.”

The Swifties shelled out hundreds — sometimes thousands — of dollars for tickets and travel and descended on Glendale this weekend, determined to make the often harrowing process of ticket-buying a distant memory. The Phoenix suburb, which recently hosted the Super Bowl, could hardly contain its excitement. The mayor declared it would temporarily change its name to “Swift City,” and electronic signs on the highway encouraged safe driving with Swift puns: “CUT OFF? DON’T GET BAD BLOOD. SHAKE IT OFF.” “RECKLESS DRIVING? YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN.”

But that was nothing compared to the electric energy surrounding the stadium. To be a Taylor Swift fan is to learn to master the clues and secret messages that could be embedded in every lyric, public comment and social media post, no matter how opaque. To be a Taylor Swift fan is to always come ready, which includes devising the perfect outfit to wear to a concert, with unlimited options bestowed by the singer herself, who chose a tour theme, “eras,” that celebrates her past and present.

Being in the crowd was like being in a force field where all pretenses are gone; Swift’s music covers the spectrum of bubble-gum pop (which she refers to as “glitter gel pen lyrics”) to deep introspective poetry, and her concerts are a place where you can dance or cry to either. Swift has laid bare her own insecurities and emotions over 10 studio albums and more than 200 songs. Here, in her presence and among one another, fans become their truest selves.

Scanning the crowd, you could see countless sequins and bejeweled skirts and jackets, an homage to the “1989” era. There were also dark blue dresses with stars for “Midnights”; red heart sunglasses, a black bowler hat and a T-shirt reading, “Not a lot going on at the moment,” a shout-out to the “22” music video; dark lipstick and black leotards as a tribute to “Reputation”; lyrics scribbled down people’s arms in marker, something Swift used to do before every concert; and No. 13 painted on hands, another former Swift tradition, from when she was starting out as a country star.

“My inspiration is the Red Tour, one of Taylor’s iconic outfits, and I just wanted to re-create it,” said Giacomo Benavides, a 26-year-old content creator dressed like a circus ringleader who traveled from Peru for the show.

Some were even more specific: Olivia Jackter of Tucson, 26, wore a traffic-light get-up that displayed the phrase “I don’t know,” referring to a lyric from the song “Death By a Thousand Cuts.” Would non-Swifties understand it? Of course not. Did that matter? Of course not. “This was going to be my costume for Lover Fest. I’ve been waiting for this for years,” Jackter said.

A group of 20-something women attached plastic Easter eggs to white T-shirts with photos of some of their favorite “Easter eggs” and hints that Swift has dropped over the years. One man dressed in a cat costume as Swift’s newest pet, Benjamin. Two women whooped excitedly when they walked by each other in a line for food and saw that they wore matching floral dresses similar to what Swift wore to the 2021 Grammy Awards.

Another popular theme was “All Too Well,” the searing breakup ballad that recently got a second life when Swift released the updated 10-minute version. Lots of fans wore outfits displaying those lyrics. Ivan Hernandez of Phoenix sported a blue T-shirt that read, “Where’s the scarf, Jake?” — a reference to the song’s supposed subject, Swift’s ex-boyfriend Jake Gyllenhaal, and the lyric that suggests that he swiped her scarf.

“[My son] wanted to go to the concert, and he said, ‘Let’s wear outfits,’ and I was like, ‘Well, I’m not going to wear an outlandish outfit,’” said Hernandez, 46, whose 13-year-old son, Eli, was wearing an Eras Tour shirt they had bought at the merchandise stand Saturday afternoon before Swift’s second show. “So I just went online and started looking for something about ‘All Too Well,’ and this is the one that came up.”

Swift, who misses nothing, praised everyone for their effort from the stage.

“You have really outdone yourselves, guys. The way that you decided to show up to this concert, you really, really decided to show up,” she said, noting that she saw people dressed as mirror balls (from the song “Mirrorball”); willow trees (from “Willow”); and “sexy babies” (from “Anti-Hero” — and too complicated to explain). “I have seen, like, really amazing, specific visual representations of lyrics or weird online inside jokes that we have.”

“I was thinking about tonight and how special this is,” she added. “You have led me to believe, by you being here, that it’s special for you, too, so it’s really nice that it’s mutual.”

Swift’s unusually close relationship with her fans started back when she was a country artist, a genre in which singers are supposed to think of listeners as their peers. Swift always went a step beyond, chatting with fans on Myspace back before Nashville executives even knew what that was, and that connection has continued to this day.

In concert, Swift referred to the journey that she and her fans have taken together, like they’re a family. (The “four new members of the family,” she said, are the four albums she has released since her last tour.) She made no secret of the fact that she monitors fans’ social media activity, even dryly noting that her 2020 record “Evermore,” is “an album I absolutely love, despite what some of you say on TikTok.” (People on the platform are convinced that “Evermore” is her “forgotten child.”)

This is all why her bond with her fandom remains so strong. She connected early on to fellow teenage girls who inferred from society that their crushes and feelings and dreams were silly, only to find someone in Swift who took them seriously and who could articulate, in songwriting, what they didn’t even know they were feeling.

“By the time she’s done living through something and writing about it and releasing music, I’m living through it,” said Briana McReynolds, 32, of Phoenix, who showed up in a T-shirt covered in lyrics, as well as a purple streak in her hair to represent “Lavender Haze,” Swift’s latest single. Her best friend, Chris, accompanied her to the concert as an “emotional support Swiftie.” (“I’m doing my best,” he said.)

She’s just accidentally kind of written the soundtrack for my life,” McReynolds said. “She’s matured with all of us, or we’ve matured with her. So no matter what age I am, she can totally sing my heart.”

Caitlin O’Connor, 32, of San Diego came to the show with her mom; they have seen every Swift tour together for the last 15 years, and O’Connor makes sure to go multiple times.

“You don’t need therapy; you need Taylor Swift songs,” O’Connor said. Swift’s concerts, she explained, “are my happy place, and there’s nothing else like it. It’s the most natural high you could get in your whole life.” On her arm, she has a tattoo of lyrics from Swift’s “Treacherous”: “All we are is skin and bone, trained to get along.”

“I love that line. Really, at the core, everybody is human,” she said. “And that’s also the thing with Taylor Swift concerts: Everybody is really nice. … You bond over something immediately.”

Swift is highly aware of the world she’s built, and she doesn’t shy away from it. In a surprisingly direct admission, while introducing the song “Mirrorball,” from her 2020 album “Folklore” during an acoustic set, she reiterated to the crowd just how intensely she’s missed them over the past several years.

“I was thinking about how one of the songs that I wrote with you in mind during the pandemic was one of the first songs I wrote on ‘Folklore,’ and it was me writing about how badly I craved the connection that I feel from the care that you have directed my way,” she said. “I was trying to think of a sort of eloquent way to say that I love you and I need your attention all the time.”

The stadium quieted as she strummed and sang.

“I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try; I’m still on that trapeze, I’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me. ’Cause I’m a mirror ball. … I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight.”

And although she asked the members of the crowd for their attention, she didn’t need to; it was already there, and it always will be.

[winterpinetrees]

Mid-Year's Night (The Gap Years part 13)

June 20th 2019

A nice cliff in the elven world

In spite of everything, the Mercurali are a family. Their world is built on extreme violence, but it is not only violence.

.........

Mid-Year’s Night is a holiday in the same way that “high noble” is an identity: technically correct, lacking detail, and really only ever used to avoid arguments. The official laws made by Leda Sondaica four thousand one hundred and twenty-one years ago say Mid-Year’s Night only because calling it the Summer Solstice would exclude half the planet. It’s one of three truly global holidays, but what elves actually do is up to them. 

As a Voyager along the Storm Coast, Ryn called it the Brightest Night. They’d cover the trees with nets of glowing filament and catch the fireflies that got confused by all the lights. For Amedi, the end of June was also the start of the rainy season in the highlands, and a storm rolling in on the solstice was very good luck. (Ryn and Amedi have been bonding over that. Sooner or later there will be a Pacific hurricane and Ishtar does not want to wrangle both of them at once). The nobles of Genus Kotija had their own celebrations and Arjuna carried the ones he could with him to the palace. It’s a different night for the farmers in the shadow of the rocky mountains, and for the nomads in the Arctic circle, and for the wildblood humans who brought traditions from another world. 

Ishtar had nothing. She was the last daughter of Gens Mercuralis after an unspeakably brutal coup, and four thousand years of conflict had left her family with little culture but violence. She was raised by her last cousin (who was only half-grown himself), and the two of them were too traumatized to bother reenacting holidays they barely knew. Ishtar remembers decades of just waiting to grow old enough to earn some scrap of vengeance or power with her almost-human strength and devastatingly powerful magic. Then she met Ryn, and he showed her that there were fireflies in the grass around the Conservatory. The Storm Army gave her power and prestige, but it was also something to be a part of. There were traditions and stereotypes and all the little things she’d never gotten a chance to enjoy. She spent six years in that little world. They didn’t all make it out alive, but Ishtar did. 

Needless to say, her three children have been raised with a culture. It’s her violence and Ryn’s curiosity and Arjuna’s grace, but it’s something. It’s too cutthroat for the Voyagers and too rustic for the nobility, but it’s theirs. Someday the kids will attend the Conservatory and face the same Trial as their parents, but they will have a meaningful childhood before it and meaningful lives after. Ishtar has also taken it upon herself to help her newest councilor. Their name is Amedi Kebero, and like her, they won a major war game at the Conservatory. Unlike Ishtar, they’re having a bit of trouble figuring out what to do after. It’s really quite common. Most victors burn out. It’s the secret final test. Did you find some way to live afterward, or will you destroy yourself like Lazarus once he had nothing left to conquer? 

Ishtar found a way. It’s been one hundred and fifty years, after all, and she’s still alive. She stands on a steep rocky incline as the last purples and reds of the sunset fade over the cloudy horizon. With her stand nine others. Her husband, Arjuna, the quiet elf who she married after decades of wrestling with her official betrothal. Ryn, the commoner with dusty brown hair and stormson tattoos who saved her life. Her three children, all older now than she was during the coup that took away her childhood (To a human observer, they look ten, eight, and seven, but they were actually all born a decade apart. The nobility age slowly). And Amedi, her youngest and scrappiest councilor. Their three seneschals, Alyse, Callum, and Esther, are also present. The group are all wearing fluorescent paint on their faces and arms, a tradition that Ryn brought from home, but Amedi thought was familiar. 

Twilight is long on Mid-Year’s Night, but it’s finally dark. Arjuna pulls a bundle of thin metal rods from a bag. He is slender and graceful even by high noble standards, and his long hair flows in the wind behind him. His eyes flare lavender as he lights two sticks with his magic. They burn white and gold -sparklers, a simple invention that both humans and elves have made. The paint on his face and arms is geometric, with elaborate florals on his wrists. Genus Kotija designs from his family. He holds a sparkler in one painted hand and passes the other to Fen, her younger son. The boy is just barely starting to use his magic, but fire is beyond him. 

“Esther needs one too!” He points a small hand at a short red-haired woman. 

Esther is Amedi’s young seneschal. She is human, of course, but the yellow-green smudge of paint makes it almost look like her eyes are glowing. She must have forgotten she was wearing face paint. Ishtar suggested Amedi choose a calmer seneschal, but they didn’t listen. She takes the sparkler and smiles, but there’s fear in her eyes. Her own seneschal, who has been dealing with this for decades, goes over to help. Aren’t humans so nice when they aren’t trying to kill each other?

The sparklers are distributed. Suen proudly lights hers, as well as ones for the other two humans. Ryn insists on setting a fire himself. He’s barely strong enough to spark a flame, but he can manage. That’s the origin of the term “spark”, after all. The glowing paint on his bare arms looks like waves or wind patterns. Amedi has copied it along with spirals of lightning and a line over their eyes. The sparkler part is entirely new to them though. They seem to like it. 

“I hope Mav can be here next year!” says Chandra, her oldest son. He’s a sensitive boy, the sort of sensitive that can’t exist in high nobility without being corrupted. He mostly takes after his father in appearance, just with a broader build. Of course, he’s still just a little kid.

Ishtar smiles. “Me too, Chandra, but his family have been our enemies for a long time, even if Devana is our friend. Would you want to celebrate with the old Apex and the Sondaicas?”

He hesitates, but then shakes his head. Ishtar has been trying to end the ancient war between the two clans of high genera, and part of that has meant encouraging the children of her allies to meet the elves they’d always thought would become their enemies. Of course, most of those children are currently furious, grieving, and under the magic-suppressing gaze of a Betrayed arbiter until they calm down. 

Mav is a young boy from the core of Genus Marolak, and Devana is his aunt. He’s pale with wolf-blue eyes and is almost exactly the same age as her son. They’ll attend the Conservatory together. In another life, they’d be enemies like she and Kavec Adust were. Somehow, miraculously, her son has started to befriend him instead. Her daughter, by contrast, has refused to go anywhere near one of the Betrayed. It’s understandable. Ishtar wouldn’t either when she was her age. Bad memories. 

Despite their new friendship with her son, the three imprisoned children who viewed Devana as their cool aunt (even if the Councillor is technically the mother of one of them) are too volatile to be released. They have a sister at large, and their father was killed last week. No matter the optimism of little boys, these things take a long time to bury. Ishtar is supposed to say that things take a long time to heal, not bury, and she does say that out loud. In her mind though, she knows that some things are only ever handled. All that buried trauma is why Amedi nearly sets the field on fire when a shadow dashes past the group. It’s nothing, but the new councilor hasn't learned that yet. She smiles at Arjuna. 

Arjuna is an illusionist, and a very skilled one at that. It’s common knowledge that illusionists eventually suffer from hallucinations… and that their skillset can make those hallucinations a public issue. However, they’ve hit Arjuna early and they’ve hit him hard. He blames his job as an assassin. He spent so many decades looking for dangers around every corner that his magic (perfectly honed to create distractions and notice threats) began to make problems where there were none. He’s retired now. 

The whole family, humans and elves, go through a mental list. Is anyone else around? Did they hear anything or just see it? And of course, who would be stupid enough to attack them here? They all reach the only reasonable conclusion: sometimes, magic is just a pain. Arjuna pats Amedi on the back and they quietly laugh.

They’re used to it though. They’re all used to reaching for weapons they don’t carry, or drawing ones that they do. They’re used to scaring away birds with eyes that glow at loud noises and to constantly checking what the other world looks like in case they need to run. No matter what she wants, this is the world that is. Her children will attend the Conservatory, and the odds are that at least one of them will kill. Even conquering the human world won’t be enough to change that. Still, Mid-Year’s Night is a time to dream. 

The sparklers burn out and they all sit down on the rocks. Ryn’s old white-haired seneschal, Callum, looks up and identifies a bat in the dark sky. Six months ago, she was the Adversary, and Emer Sondaica was the Apex. She and her council and her family were half a year away from a coup decades in the making, praying to fate or nature or some commoner's god that no one would turn traitor. Ishtar asks her family about their hopes for the next six months. It’s a painfully boring tradition, but it’s all she can offer. 

Amedi hopes that they find the missing heirs quickly. Despite the failed attack in Vya, their spell is working after all, and they now know that the heirs of Sondaica and Adust are both in Las Vegas.

They raise their painted hands in exasperation. “It’s a void-cursed desert, honestly. What kind of idiot civilization sets off a thousand nuclear bombs without being able to metabolize radiation?” 

Ryn explains that the elven world did its fair share of stupid stuff, mostly heating the atmosphere a few degrees when they were already at the natural end of an ice age. He hopes that their conquest goes smoothly, and to start looking for a new seneschal. 

Callum approves of that. He turned sixty this past year, and he does not want to deal with a second planet’s worth of paperwork. 

Esther wants to become more at home in the palace. The staff don’t respect her yet, but half the world’s bureaucracy reports to her one way or another. The other two humans say something in their shared language. They’ve probably all felt that way. 

Alyse, her own seneschal, hopes to find the heirs as well. She always dodges questions.

Arjuna agrees with Ryn. They’ve lost enough friends this year, but hopefully their plan to take over the human world won’t cause any more grief.

The children have smaller goals. They want to see Rise of Skywalker in a human theater. Fen says that it actually releases on the new year, and doesn’t count as a Mid-Year’s hope, but they ignore him. Chandra wants Suen to meet his new friends, and Suen wants that Gens Tiercel boy to teach her more flight magic. Ishtar should probably stop that. 

What does she want? Well, the high nobility don’t believe in anything after this life, but some of Ishtar and Ryn’s old friends in the Storm Army did. Sometimes Ishtar sees a little brown-spotted raptor watching her and wonders if it’s proud of what she’s done. A hundred children still die every year at the Conservatory. One of her soldiers killed a Sondaica girl during the coup. Some nights Ryn sits her down in the Problem Room once Devana, Gullin, and Amedi have gone. He puts his head in his rope-burned hands and talks about typhus on sailing ships and what plague actually looks like because no one in the elven world has ever seen it. 

Other nights it’s Gullin Eburos who talks, and he tells her about what life is actually like for the Betrayed who monitor their prisons and voidports. He tells her about his youngest child, a little boy with ivory hair and sharp teeth who would be about her age by now if he hadn’t been Betrayed, and if that life hadn’t driven him to throw himself into the sea. And still Gullin (who holds hundreds of wildborn humans captive in laboratories across the world) codes genomes to design a pandemic that will kill billions, and Ryn (who would do anything, anything, for his children - for her children) speaks to convince commoners to hold their Betrayed to the same standards as nobleborn ones.

What does the Apex hope? Well, Apex Emer Sondaica seemed happy at the end, right before Ishtar crushed her heart with a war hammer. Not happy to die a glorious death either…just happy it was over. Ishtar is pretty certain that she’ll still be alive in six months, but if Emer’s son comes back to kill her, she hopes that it won’t be a relief. 

.............

Chandra’s fits the noble naming style and the Voyager one! He is named after a god of the moon, but also after Dr Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar, a real-life astrophysicist who defined so much of what we currently know about massive stars and what happens after they die.  

little picrews of Suen, Chandra, and Fedran. They're 10, 8, and 7, but actually like 36, 25 and 18 (those are rough numbers)

[aria-ashryver]

Bursts through the door then neatly fixes it back up again

Any hc’s you can spare us for the Starlight trio? 🫣

MY DOOR!!— oh. Oh, okay, thank youuu here have some trio stuffs 😊

Quickfire HCs!

❤ Cas has the most violent sounding sneezes

❤ Gabe and Luca like to pull silly faces at each other from across the room sometimes (if Cas notices them, they both pretend like nothing happened)

❤ Cas is lowkey scared of moths

❤ A few years down the line, Luca takes up ice skating / figure skating as a hobby

❤ Gabriel’s car is a classic muscle car in a deep burnt orange shade (like a Dodge Charger or something, idk, I don’t speak car), and he knows enough about automotive repair to work on it himself

❤ (Its the one thing Cas could never bring himself to insult when they were in their “enemies” era, bc Cas thought it was just objectively cool)

❤ CAS IS TICKLISH

❤ Gabriel is sometimes hit by an overwhelming urge to go floss his teeth, and if he can’t do it then and there he gets really annoyed and antsy

❤ All three of them grow out their hair at some point (not necessarily at the same time, but Cas keeps a bun for the longest time)

❤ Luca maintains that the single most supernatural thing about Gabriel is that he knows how to fold a fitted sheet

❤ Luca likes snuggling into Gabriel’s lap while Gabe is reading a book (he doesn’t read with Gabe, he just likes vibing in Gabriel’s calm)

❤ In fact, all three of them are HUGE on parallel play/body doubling. Sometimes ya just gotta be near the ones you love, while also quietly doing your own thing, you know?

❤ But that’s not to say they don’t do stuff together too. The next chapter coming up in SICSIG will feature Cas hooking up his PS4 to Gabe’s TV and he and Luca gaming together — there will be a lot of that sort of thing in their future.

❤ They also turn really dumb things into a competition (like who can carry the most grocery bags in one trip)

❤ Gabriel regularly has to put up with coming home to find out Cas and Luca have hatched a plan in their joint idiocy and they’ll have like… idk, bought a paintball gun and they are in the yard taking turns shooting each other with it lol (once Luca is past their trauma ofc)

❤ It takes a loooong time, but Gabriel eventually lets Cas bleach his hair (there are lots of Ken doll/surfer/himbo jokes) (he looks gorgeous bc of course he does)

❤ Cas still insists on doing his own hair for a good decade, he does NOT trust Luca with the bleach (for good reason), but he eventually lets Gabriel touch up the back for him

❤ After a few years Cas learns bass guitar so the three of them can jam together

❤ Luca collects socks with cute patterns and characters and stuff, but doesn’t wear half of them because of sensory issues.

❤ Cas has no such qualms, and will often steal Luca’s socks when he hasn’t got around to doing laundry. Please picture for a moment, if you will, Cas in his standard leather jacket and massive black boots, but secretly underneath all that, he’s wearing a teensy pair of baby blue socks with the Squirtle Squad on them.

Longer, ramblier domestic trio HCs!

✨ Gabriel gets a little particular and fussy about how certain things are done — like, he had been doing things on his own, in his own way for years now. It doesn’t especially matter to him whether certain condiments are left on the second or third shelf in the refrigerator, it’s just force of habit that they go at the top. Cas quickly realises he has an entire household of mundane objects he can use to wind Gabriel up by always leaving them in slightly the wrong place. Making the bed marginally wrong. Not quite drawing the curtains all the way. Leaving a drawer just a teensy bit open. It drives Gabriel mad… but all three of them know they are only bickering for the sake of bickering, and it never gets old. (In fact, they actually look forward to it)

✨ Speaking of kitchens — Gabriel still very much loves to cook, both for a love of cooking itself and the connection it gives him to his father, but he loves taking care of Cas and Luca too! Cas complains a lot that Gabe keeps serving them vegan food now and then, but he’s still the first one to ask when the next time they are having tortilla soup is. There are a bunch of recipes Gabriel’s dad and grandma used to make, and it thrills him to no end that they turn out to be some of Cas and Luca’s favourites out of all the meals he makes.

✨ After living together for a little while, the boys quickly found out that they were all really into the idea of DIY? Gabriel really likes finishing details of interior design, Luca did a lot of little carpentry projects with his grandda in his childhood/teens, and for Cas, getting stuck in to gardening and exterior work is deeply therapeutic, rewarding, and reminds him of his life in South Korea with his grandparents. The Adalhard family home very much turns into a big renovation project (that takes them like a decade to really “complete”, though there’s always little things to be done, a room to be painted here, a window frame to replace there. They start with the garden planter boxes in the front yard —Cas’s initiative— and this is probably something you’ll see in future Starlight chapters!)

Gabriel likes to ogle Cas when he’s out digging in the gardens shirtless in the sun. He brings him iced tea and sliced fruit and stuff, it’s a bit cute :)

...hey this door is still busted FIX MY DOOR NONNY 💖💖💖

[fuzzydreamin]

Random Headcanons for: X6-88

☾ Is a child. A murderous child. That one bratty edgy gothic pre-teen in the family and it's totally not a phase mum. He doesn't truly understand much about the world, or anything outside of killing. Jokes go over his head and his sense of humour is pretty warped.

☾ Major sweet tooth. Lives up to the 'all synths love fancy lads snack cakes' thing. He will hoard boxes of them to eat at his leisure. Does not want to share with the class.

☾ Great artist, but only does realism. Will scoff at cartoons and doesn't usually understand abstract works. Likes to paint scenery. Prefers not to paint humans, or people in general. He also enjoys drawing precise schematics.

☾ Part of being a synth and his courser training is being able to withstand pretty harsh weather, but he still really hates being too hot or too cold. He's used to the never fluctuating temperatures inside the Institute.

☾ Always moves silently. He will sneak up on people without meaning to sneak up on them. Lot of people around Sanctuary having mini heart attacks.

☾ Not really into relaxing but when he does you better not disturb him without good reason.

☾ Not a dog person. Says he doesn't like any animals, which is mostly true, but cats grow on him. He's okay with crows too, because they are from the Institute.

☾ Doesn't just wear sunglasses because it's cool. His eyes are a little sensitive to light. Most current coursers are, because they've been altered to have some sense of nightvision. If he walked around in daylight without his glasses for a few hours he would get a headache. It's better indoors, but bright lights are still a no-go.

☾ Doesn't care about gendered clothing. Will wear silky black dresses, long skirts, and nightgowns. He generally finds longer clothes comfortable. Their thickness is based on weather and temperature.

☾ Not into dancing, but if he does it will be gothic club dancing (lots of arm movements and flowyness).

☾ Minimal body hair. The sensation bothers him, like an itchy tag on clothing. Let some facial hair grow on his chin once. Hated it.

☾ Is a little under a decade old. He's gone through several procedures over the years to keep up to date on courser tech and remains one of their best despite being considered an older courser.

☾ Has worked closely with Father for most of his years, more so than most coursers or synths in general. His closeness to Father was why he was chosen to work with Sole, and helps with him staying updated on new tech.

☾ Always held the starry-eyed view of Father that the Institute generally promotes, and though he knew he shouldn't he always hoped that Father cared for him in return, even a little. Really viewed the man as a father to him. It's heartbreaking to him when he finally has to force himself to accept that Father views him as nothing more than a valuable but ultimately replaceable tool, and that he does deserve better than that.

☾ After the destruction of the Institute he sort of replaces Sole as Father to him, viewing them as his parental authority because to be without that at all is too scary. He may even get clingy, in his own way, for a bit. He'll work through it at a slow pace but he needs to hang onto something to ground him. Going from all that to nothing is too terrifying.

☾ If there are any remnants of the Institute left over, scientists who were pulled out during the attack and allowed to live in the wastes, he will avoid them religiously. If there is a town set up for them and Sole has to go there he will break from his clinginess to await their return at a 'safe' distance, at which point he will return to their side and pretend nothing unusual happened.

☾ Was also closer to synth Shaun and Kellogg than most others, since he was the main go-between for them and the rest of the Institute. His and Kellogg's relationship was strictly cold professionalism, but he did sort of like the kid.

☾ There was also a small amount of jealousy there, when he saw Father with little Shaun. Like an older child seeing their parent doting on a new favourite. He didn't blame Shaun for it any, in fact he blamed himself for feeling emotions, and did his best to logic his way through it and banish the faulty emotions.

☾ While he doesn't think his name needs to be shortened in any way he understands that people have a fondness for using nicknames, so will tell people that he's fine with being called X6 or even just X. Deacon only ever calls him 88. He's not sure why this bothers him so much but it does.

☾ Always knew he could feel emotions, synths are designed to mimic humans so closely after all, but still put them down to being nothing more than mimcry that could and should be muted and controlled. Only ever used for the Institute's benefit. Small amounts of expression wasn't a crime, but it was wrong if it was too strong, interfered with duty, and especially if it made a synth question their place.

☾ Fears include heights, deep water, romantic affection, and anything to do with the human body that isn't related to brutally destroying it in combat. Also anything to do with small children, babies, pregnancy, or the making of seriously freaks him out. How is that not a horror story?! If an AFAB!Sole describes their pregnancy and birthing of Shaun he will be mortified and find an excuse to flee.

☾ Aro and sex repulsed Ace.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Last night I had a lovely little dream about Christmas that has left me haunted.

There really wasn’t much of a dream.

In a living room that was an amalgam of the ones I know best, everyone was gathered around a glowing Christmas tree. By everyone I mean everyone I have ever loved. The living. The dead. The never were…at least not outside daydreams or childhood games. All of the, gathered together on incredibly comfy sofas around the tree.

Not much happens. I tell Mom she should sit down and stop being so busy. We all make her flop with us, pointing out it’s Christmas after all. We laugh. She sighs and smiles. I worry what people will think of the gifts I made them, and Pop tells me they love them. Someone that’s a young kid, but becomes a Muppet, has gotten something with a tv like screen that’s also a swimming pool, and we all delight in watching them splash about when they aren’t playing a video game….

Ok, that bit is a little weird….

The smell of pine and roasting turkey fills the air. My favorite Christmas music, the kind that sounds ancient and entrancing, plays quietly in the background. Someone hands out chocolates.

And that’s all. We are just all cozy and content, cuddled together in a blanket of love. Simply happy.

I woke up crying.

This was the first time I have ever, EVER had a dream set on actual Christmas. Oh, I have had lots of dreams about Christmas, but they were always really about missing Christmas. My anxiety dreams. They were dreams of things like going to sleep three days before Christmas and waking up a week later, being trapped somewhere and getting out two days two late for Christmas, having a sort of amnesia where everyone remembers Christmas but you have have a four day blank spot..that sort of thing.

And yet here I was, dreaming of Christmas. An ordinary Christmas like the ones I actually had for decades…well, aside for the mix of company including the imaginary and the Muppet. Just us enjoying being together….

“Us” That’s the reason it got to me.

This year will be my fifth Christmas entirely alone. I still get the tree, cook the meal, listen to the music, wrap fake gifts for myself to open, and so forth but there is one thing I can’t do. I can’t do anything about being alone.

Memories and dreams are nice. I do realize just how lucky I am to have them. Too many people never get a chance to know what it is like to be loved, and I had decades of it. I was loved, knew I was loved, and never doubted. The rest of the world may have had no use for me, but I had parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even friends.

Gone.

One way or another all but Mom have gone, and even with Mom she is so far away. She’s a sleepy, weak voice on the phone, from where I can’t visit and even my calls are never private. I can’t see her face as I give her her gift, or even be sure she gets it**. I can’t hug her.

And no one will hug me.

And no one ever will.

So a nothing of a dream, happiness with out even a plot, could upset me more than most horrific of nightmares. Because, damn it, being alone enough years starts to wear you down.

**She got her Mother’s Day gift almost on the 4th of July because they misplaced it in their SUV. I never ask if she got a gift so as to not provoke them as the listen along, and Mom wouldn’t think to mention it.

[haila-wetyios]

Two taboos

A bucket tumbles. Paper rustles. A stray toy falls over and knocks against boxes filled with far more trinkets and memorabilia than she can even recall. 

There’s a mattress still laying on the ground. Its the very same one Haila had been using to spend the nights in the new home she’d managed to secure for her family. But. The process had been slow. Painfully slow. And her duty to tending to Kazushige and Cravs had taken priority. Hellish multitasking at it’s finest… Perhaps Rhua had inherited far more traits from her than she’d thought.  

Well… Her tasks there were finally done. It was just a matter of finishing packing box after box, take Riylli’s voluntary work offers and pray nothing was forgotten back in the Shroud. But someone had to also remain in their new abode to assure that the house was suited with the proper basic needs before everyone could come with her. Which left Haila with too much time to ponder, to think, to wallow in places of her mind that she did not look forward to at all. 

It’s ironic for her, honestly. How she can recite word for word certain moments of her life, but see others as nothing but muddled images as well as complete blanks. But she really doesn’t mind. At least, not most of the time. Not all the fragments were recovered, and she could live with that. 

Some she’d not accepted back so that they could keep protecting those she loved. And. There were others….

Lost. 

Unrecoverable. 

Stuck. 

There isn’t a day that she doesn’t lose inner peace from the realization that she can’t get them back. That they’ll completely overtake it’s owner. 

What will happen then?...

It is one of the things that still haunts her. Because there’s always something that has to. Her time spent in the First. Her failure to save Rutla. Her carelessness that lead to being fragmented. The uncertainty of her own son’s future. The Beasts. 

The reason why she even exists in the first place. 

The simple reminder hits her. And Haila feels like throwing up for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It’s either that, or the few extra cocktails she needed to numb herself out. Good lord. Now she can feel the old age getting to her. Her back is stiff as she slowly shifts and sits up on her run down bare mattress. 

This was certainly an experience from youth. The horrible need to seek a bucket after getting piss drunk. Except she was far more disgusted and hungover than actually wobbly in her thoughts right now. 

That one’s a familiar feeling. She can still recall the purple vest she was wearing on her loose shirt that day. The one that she’d discovered real Allagans hidden amidst the people of Uldah, and the same day that she was ridiculed by them when seeking help for the affliction their own creations had caused on her. 

Heh…

Hopefully the bastards had been killed by now by some random ragtag adventuring group. It wouldn’t take too long if they had been careless enough to wander taverns and attempt summoning magics on a back alley. Too many witnesses, too much rubble. They were mortals, not gods. Whatever method had been needed for a handful to survive this long was beyond her, but this star offered far too many ways to get around that. Haila was a living proof of that. 

Comparing her realization and dread to the one she was met with decades later in the First, when she’d come across the Locus for the first time, made her encounter with Allag be the equivalent of merely meeting an asshole neighbor versus having real cosmic horror shoved into her head. It had been just that mind shattering to her. 

Haila’s not even sure how she is even still sane. 

Perhaps it had been Rutla’s doing. His stubbornness despite her rejections and own imposed distance never deterred him from peering closer into her very self. Or… Perhaps this version of her was the insane one. Desperately clinging to motherly instincts that had shaped her very being. And the sane version would be someone screaming her lungs out and trying to tear everything around her. 

Who was the real one by now anyway?

Oh she knows the answer to that one. At least partially. 

And that makes a different realization hit her. 

She’s alone. 

Yes. She has plenty of privacy in her lab. And plenty of privacy when she asks that out of her family. But it’s almost as if what she can do right now is the equivalent of going behind their backs. A conversation. An action that she will never speak of to anyone. A secret to add to the pile. 

This one doesn’t concern anyone but herself after all. 

No one else has to face it. No one else has to suffer from it. No one else is like her. 

Haila decided in that very moment to just do it. Nothing might come out of it. This was out of schedule from the latest delivery of concentrated ethers after all. But maybe. Just maybe. A meeting could be done in this perfect setting that would keep them from suffering the fate that would punish them if they shared the same space. 

Same old. Same old. She stood with a low groan, bones still reminding her that this body was indeed a century old by now. Her back cracking some amidst a few stretches as she faced a nearby vacant wall. The perfect size for this stupid thing no one would judge as such but her. For only she knew the dangers of it, and only she was the one that could suffer from them. 

Her palms grazed over the newly painted white, stiff in need of an extra layer of more of it. Her fingertips dug into matter as if they were merely digging in sand. A tear of reality. Or was it dimension? Space? Her hands easily dragged over the hole that was being expanded with each pull until before her was a window with a view of a vast starry sky and burnt out rock. 

The Locus. 

But Haila didn’t dare step inside. Anyone else but her could do it without worry. She’d tell herself that she had made her decision too hasty. But at the same time… No cost was too great to go back home. Seven decades. Seven decades in which her research never came close to being able to send her back to Eorzea without the need of the Echo. 

That was her biggest lie and well kept secret of all time. 

She’d failed. She shouldn’t be in Eorzea. Luma may have managed to find her in the First. But he didn’t succeed in bringing her back. She’d struck a deal. A plea that had been there the entire time. But one that she didn’t take lightly despite the decision she’d made in a far future about it. 

But that wasn’t something to dwell on, at least not anymore. She was here. And she’d never make it back to the First. At least… Not without having to step inside the Locus again. And that was practically impossible. A fate worse than death. And one only for her at that. 

For the first few minutes that this portal was open, Haila just sat before it. Waiting, staring off into the distance. She’d done this a few times already, so she knew who eventually would walk nearby to keep her company in the oddest of ways. 

But… When she closes her eyes. And when she hears footsteps coming as she remains seated on a stool too small for her body, Haila spotted her for the first time. 

They’re strangers, only aware of the other because of secondhand accounts. They’ve known they should never meet, even less be in the same place at the same time. What punishment lies ahead if they do? 

Probably the one before her also doesn’t know the answer to it. But the overwhelming sense of dread that single thought brings is one that Haila is sure she isn’t the only one to feel. 

Regal red folds and extend all the way down to the ground, with a small peek of high heels. A pure white overskirt that extends all the way up to cover her torso as well in this ballroom gown clearly meant for a banquet rather than a life of adventure or battle like she’d always been told this stranger was. 

Black hair neatly combed into a high bun, with winged ornaments on each side that are reminiscent of a swan. Blue gemstones embedded on both sides at their bottom. 

She’s holding a crate with both hands. One filled to the brim with the concentrated ethers that Haila had been shipping to Garlemald as a lifeline for her daughter. A distant and quiet arrangement who’s middleman wasn’t present this time around to deliver by pushing them through the portal. 

She stares down at Haila. She looks young. Far too young for all the deeds described about her. But. Even if neither resemble the other, she can see it. How their gazes are a perfect reflection of the other. Blue and gold. Like a curse that will someday swallow them whole.

Silence stretches thin as the two stare deeply at each other. What should one even say? It almost felt like one had committed a horrible taboo while the other had caught it red handed. Except. Both were on either receiving end at that. 

Words are stuck in her watcher’s throat. Haila can see it in her eyes. How there’s so much her visitor wished she could say, and how she was used to letting everything stir in an unnerving silence that perhaps no one had ever bothered to call into question. As if words were barely ever allowed for the stranger to even say.

“Hello.” 

Haila was the first one to break the silence. It wasn’t in her to be the one to remain quiet, at least not anymore. Just that word alone was enough to let go of the breath the Viera had known she’d been holding this entire time. And it needed to be let out somehow. 

Her ‘visitor’ though, remained in silence, eyes wary of Haila. Even with all the Spoken gestures she could do, breathing, the blatant shock in her face, the tensing on her shoulders. Haila could tell that the rumors, or rather the tales she’d heard from Second were true. That this woman was something that didn’t match what a normal living being would do or be. Perhaps it was the sheer humanity that the woman could still display despite all that that always creeped out Second so much?

But eventually, this visitor realized it. That silence wasn’t an answer, nor one that could reach Haila for mutual understanding. Her eyes had been wandering, watching, waiting. As if not being prompted to speak had been the norm for so long that. When given a choice. She was numb enough to need seconds, even a minute to realize her voice was still there. Still existing. Still able to be heard. 

“Hello.” the lass repeated. 

And though Haila understood the word right away, there was something unnatural and unnerving about it. She could tell it was a simple greeting, but there was no specific way in which she could pinpoint exactly what was wrong with the tone of the voice, or if it had been a single one to begin with. It had felt like several languages and echoes had been spoken at the same time, and out of the mix of all of them, that word had managed to be tuned in by Haila’s mind to come to understand it. 

What else to say? How should either one start to speak when hundreds if not thousands of conflicts had arrived right here in this very moment?

Surprisingly, the one to break the silence this time wasn’t Haila herself, but the one standing before her. Still in the Locus, still holding a box, still looking out of place dressed in elegant formalities. 

“So you’re the reason I can’t dream anymore.” she stated. Voice still off, still a strange chorus despite the words coming through and making sense. Though with each one said out loud, a single one started to stand out rather than the several odd ones within it’s same tone. As if synchronizing with the current speech, adapting, getting used to a new Spoken tongue to add to the pile. 

Of all the words that Haila expected to hear, these ones had been on her list. Except she can’t exactly place her finger on what the intent of them were. Was she being accused of being the thief of such an important ability? Was she the mistake that shouldn’t exist in her eyes? But… The lass’s expression was so immutable that Haila couldn’t tell what exactly was going through her head. 

“Aye…” Haila responded at first with a slow nod. 

Despite the differences. Despite the deceiving appearances, Haila could tell that she was the lesser one in this very moment. An irony, that the century old Viera almost twice the size of this lass could think like this. But the impact of who both of them were was just that big to her. 

Realizing that silence once more had come to dominate this moment that probably wouldn’t repeat itself, Haila decided she’d cowered enough. She’d been the one to open the portal in the first place after all. 

“Am I what you expected to see from someone that shouldn’t exist with you here?...” she asked in return. 

The lass fell quiet, staring intently at Haila, judging, analyzing. If one thing was clear, it was that appearances were something of the upmost importance to her. But would Haila pass this brief test?

“Your ears are weird, and too big.” she started. And it was just the beginning of it…

“You’re not wearing any formal dress. Or royal uniform at that. You’re too tall. Where are your heels? Your manner of seating isn’t graceful. And your hair is short.”

If it wasn’t because of the unending tension that the both of them could feel from being in the presence of the other despite the lack of whatever divine punishment was in store yet, Haila would have joked that some of those statements actually stung. 

Yes, she wasn’t in her fanciest get up. She’d been sleeping in a damn mattress on the ground and any concern for clothes that weren’t suited for comfort had gone out the window. She was certainly not seated in the best of ways, even she had to admit that. She’d scold any child that she caught doing what she was. But… In Haila’s defense, this was a damn tiny stool. Though she does love heels. She can’t exactly wear them around, what happened to flats being trendy? She would complain that her hair had been a pain to get as long as it used to be. But… She’d been proud of it until she cut it for Crific and… Let’s not forget there’s nothing she can do about her height. 

But this remarked the stark difference between the two, and, to Haila that was the most relieving part of it all. She couldn’t help it. This had been one of her biggest fears for generations now. And the Milletian’s words and casualness in which she’d been tackled only added to it. 

Haila slowly but surely started chuckling. A chuckle that soon started breaking out into laughter. And judging from the lass’s smirk, she too was finding humor in this encounter. And then silence once more. 

Though one that wasn’t as uncomfortable as before. The two had a lot to think about, talk, but really… What was the best thing to say in the end?

The first one to break the ice once more, was the Milletian. 

“So. How did you make it so that we can talk right here, right now?... I’ve heard the story so many times by now that I’m tired of the reminder that we’d never meet in person.” she mentioned, nodding towards the portal between them. And the fact that nothing had happened for this impossible situation to get back at them. Neither knew exactly what would happen if they were in the same place, just that it should never happen after all. 

“Tis the portal in itself.” Haila answered amidst a low sigh. Weird dimension stuff, her daughter would hate that explanation. And, at some point Haila herself had just gone numb to the strange and hard to grasp. It is what it is. And maybe there’s a better way to go about it. But science can only go so far to explain the more surreal and fantastic. 

“You’re not here, where I am. And I’m not there, where you’re standing. Otherwise I believe this wouldn’t have worked.” That was the conclusion, one that caused the well dressed lass to furrow her brow, only to slowly nod as if in understanding. “You don’t look too surprised at this.” Haila commented, taking a moment to study her expressions a little further. As supernatural as the Milletian was, there was always a semblance of normality in her, or at least, that’s how outer appearances always hinted at. 

But all the Milletian did was shrug slightly. “I’m not exactly a thinker. You all will always come up with something that explains anything that happens. And all that’s left for me is to accept it.” she explained as if that was just the natural way of things. The only way that the world worked, or at least, how it worked for her. “And that’s not just applied to you or the other ones. But also the people that keep asking for help, all the normal ones.” she added, giving a slightly sharper gaze to Haila. That was just the way things worked yes, but it seemed even she was tired of it. More nonsense piled on top of another. Though even she could recognize that this particular kind of nonsense was a once in a lifetime one. Not that it would be too different from other encounters she’d had. It was always a first time meeting, too quick, too fleeting, and then a goodbye until she was needed again. The Milletian was used to this. But would it really kill someone for her to be allowed more than just meetings when she was needed? What of visiting friends? What of them remembering her? What of seeing those she’d actually care about?

That was never an option. 

But this one was different. A true one in a million meeting. And she was here, brooding and growing irritated at facts that she was supposed to have gotten used to already. No point in dwelling in them. Being alone, the Milletian concludes, is what brings her to being this introspective about herself. Or perhaps not being surrounded by others like her anymore. Where she stands out for looming like a machine. For the lack of basic needs. For the lack of humane gestures. 

For a lack of better words, the Milletian merely set down the box of ethers and slid it forward until half of it peeked out into Haila’s side. 

“This time’s batch.” she mentioned, nodding at the Viera. 

It was a routine by now, except certain steps had been skipped. No slip of paper had been thrown into the Locus with a list of things Haila needed, there was no Second around to also turn in the goods through an open portal window at an allotted time. Instead, the one who made them all was here, the Milletian. 

Haila nodded slowly as she stood and carefully approached to grab the crate from her end when she felt a faint pull from it. The Milletian on the other side hadn’t let go, and was instead trying to get her attention. 

“I don’t know how dannans, or you handle these potions.” she started, nodding down at the deep blue flasks between the two of them. 

“But they’re the most concentrated version I can make without needing to look for rare herbs or annoying mandrakes. Drinking too many can and will poison you. And I don’t know how you can get rid of it on your own.” she explained, staring rather seriously at Haila. 

Was she concerned? Maybe. A long time alone, without another half, and mindlessly making ethers wasn’t exactly the best of environments to be as aloof as she’d once been. 

Haila let out a soft exhale and a small smile. 

“Aye, there’s no blue ones here to begin with. Or none with that color, just looking at them tells me all I need to know. But don’t worry… Thankfully I have a frugal daughter when it comes to using what’s best for her health.” she told the Milletian. 

A strange statement to say the least. But she wasn’t going to press for answers, normal body functions were weird to her after all. The need for sleep, to eat, to rest, all she could understand at their basics. But Spoken, Dannans. They were still unbearingly fragile. 

The Milletian let go of the crate and opted to cross her arms instead to stare down at the Viera as Haila finished pulling her new goods onto her side and stand up. 

The difference in height was abysmal, at least in Haila’s eyes. But a fact remained as true as their names. They were both Beasts in their own right. No amount of experiences, adventures, or changes would ever affect that now that the truth was right there, staring back at the other like a mirror. 

Both probably understood the gravity and inanity of this. Of seeing face to face despite not being supposed to. 

“I believe we may have unknowingly committed a taboo.” Haila mentioned, head hung slightly low. Would this be another one to add to the pile of burdens to carry?

“Make that two.” the Milletian answered, clearly not bothered by it. 

Despite the sea of words that neither managed to voice out, it felt like a middle ground, like a safe anchor to stay at. The world is full of unknowns, and this one was not exception, but just for one moment, Haila could feel solace in the fact that she could firmly say she was her own person.