#He should be higher. but also like. Not as high as Snow

[wayfinderships]

Every once in a while I look at my f/o list and think to myself...

"S.anji's placement isn't quite accurate"

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!

Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff

When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.

Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?

But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”

And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.

By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."

You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."

Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"

You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"

Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."

With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."

Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."

You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"

Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "

You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"

Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"

You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.

[zippidi-dooda]

Overblot design ratings starting at the bottom

DISCLAIMER: everything is ranked higher than Leona cause his toes

7) Score: 6.5/10

I think this is self explanatory-put shoes one, cause 1: ew, dirty floor may step on a nail and 2: you got long nails, if you stub a toe, the nail will break or be pushed back into toe and it will hurt, though I will say I like the "tights" or ink covering the legs and ankle bangles. The stitched rags are a cool idea but compared to other designs, it doesn't exude fear or an aura of power. I like the upper half though, it suits you and I like how the fur across the shoulders represents Scar's mane. The hair and makeup is nice, but the makeup is lacking compared to others.

6) Score: 6.8/10

The makeup is amazing, love the addition of the crown->that plus the shell necklace are a lovely representation of Ursula. I was surprised and happy to see this ob transformation but it's kinda just a darker version of Azul's merform to me so lacking a bit of creativity, still like it though

5) Score: 7/10

Admittedly this design is very plain compared to even the two before him, but it gains bonus points for changing flame color based on emotion like Hades' hair, the hair here is also styled just like Hades' so if we think about it, someone could have literally blowed his hair out during the battle like happened to Hades, plus I like the mask, similar to the masks that light up when you talk which is fitting for Idia's chatacter

4) Score: 8.3/10

Shoes are freaking amazing, the snatched waist, the tight fitting ... uh skirt, dress (?), the dangly jewelry, amazing, love baggy-Jammi but Jamil needs to wear more slick clothes like this, black and blood red suit him, makeup is great, inky chin pubes are ehh, turban is a bit over the top but it represents Jafar when he first gets his power which is fitting and the medusa hair is also representative of Jafar's transformation and looking at Jafar's dialogue we now know that deep down Jamil loves puns which is great. Will say that although each character gets a skin tone alteration when the ob, I found Jamil's most apparent and he kinda just looks ashy, but still a great design

3) Score: 9.3/10

So when I first saw this, I hated his crown, sun, peacock headdress thing but seeing it more and more, it's kind of fitting, Vil is the only one who could rock something so "extra" (I mean that in a nice way, idk the right word for it), and if it represents a peacock it matches with the feathers on his legs, and I guess the claws do too. Honestly, I think this design was more inspired by the Evil Queen in Snow-white and the Huntsman (I may be wrong on that, don't quote me) but again, it is very fitting for Vil as a character. The subtle hints of red are nice, love the crown and the puffed sleeves and the dark veil. All of it is very grandiose and regal very queen, very Vil, but the dirty collar peaking out (and kinda the sleeve style) reminds me of Snow White which can be fitting for both the Queen and Vil because they both hate the one people praise but are always overshadowed by them, no matter what they do people will remember and connect them to the one they hate, even if they had succeeded in getting rid of them. The corset's okay, just shows that the rose has thornes, makeup's okay looks like his dorm crown and makeups nice but not much else

2) Score: 9.8/10

He is adorable. Should I be scared, yeah probably, but he looks like an edgy cupcake I love it. Has one of the best makeup designs, love that the crown stays but just becomes more deadly, love the choker, love the spiked collar, love the high boots, his heart is displayed for all to see, double belts are always a safe bet, the painted roses represent the queen how things went wrong, the thorny vines wrap around him showing how sharp his words can bite, and the cards hanging from him, dyed in black like him are a lovely addition to the ensemble because it represents how even when gone mad, the Queen's soldiers dutifully followed her orders and came to her defense which, if Ace hadn't done anything, would be exactly the case for all the Heartslabyul students when Riddle overblotted

1) Score: 10/10

I mean, come on now, look at him. I love the minty skin tone here its representative of Maleficent and really suits him. The cape shifting from purple to thorny green flames is also representative of Maleficent at the end of the film which I love, the crossing cage on his chest and under his skirt reminds me of the gates/windows/doors patterns of the time Sleeping Beauty is based in and we know he love architecture so points there, the style of the shoes/tights also look like the style if the time a little dorky but cute. He wears bangles and ink runs up his shoulders but I think it's interesting his arms and hands are mostly uncovered which is uncommon in almost all of the ob forms. The design of his corset is nice, don't really get the point of the belt tied in front but hey if it come down to it, grab and throw him over your should then sprint away, he'll be thrown off for a second but greatly angered afterward but hey distraction. The hair brushed back really seems to make him look more royal than he normally does which is nice and we can see his scales which are perfectly enhanced by the makeup outlining them. Now, I do like the green glowing between the plates of his tail but seeing the same pattern going on in his horns throws me off since I think I got too used to seeing his normal horns, his horns do look longer here but I'm not entirely sure that's true or if its just an optical illusion cause of the colors. Overall, the true extent of his strength and power are showcased clearly in this form which I think is great, and I see his cape is still dragging on the floor despite his height and the fact that he's floating so I need to see him walk down the stairs and swish his cape around like Mother Gothel

And that's it, what ranking would you give these Overblot forms? Which one would you wear?

[sculptorofcrimson]

After the Palace

Synopsis: Ushotan survives the Palace Coup. 

Relations: Ushotan x gn character, Ushotan x Valdor(implied)

A/N: Here’s me writing Ushotan(because he’s the only Thunder Warrior I know).

It started as lewd, but it moved onto trauma, and then onto headcanon, and then angst and…well. You’ll see.

How is he alive? He shouldn’t be alive. The poison in his very veins, his own blood, his very corpse. It should have killed him already. Ushotan simply doesn’t understand. The Emperor never made him stupid(after all, no fool could’ve made it to the rank of Primarch), not even his relatively easygoing demeanor knows how to handle this unexpected trip from the grave.

(Why is he alive? Why? Why does he have to live? He no longer knows.)

Hm? Rescued, was he? Rescued, like some helpless kitten? Ushotan wouldn’t stop joking about it, sharp-tongued as always, even when being literally bedbound for the first three days. He’s not some damsel in distress, for the Emperor’s sake, he’s nearly 9ft of pure muscle and steroids and rage. 

Thunder Warriors did not have all feelings expunged from them. They did not lose desire. In some senses, they are human, adhering to a primal sense of emotion and affection lost to most Astartes. In some sense, they’re more human than Custodes or Astartes will ever be. Ushotan still retains his affection, his own loyalties, joy, some kind of fear, rage, full emotions and even desire. It’s messy and it’s torn and it’s ragged, especially with the weight of the years and mental deterioration coupled with Thunder Warriors. And desire burns. For all his decrepitude, for all his wounds, he’s still a furnace of light, still raging against the death of the sun. 

To be human comes at a price. The price is high. The bargain isn’t worth it. He saw his brothers, his soldiers, his men die atop Ararat, and then die again before the Palace. Beneath the cold steel of Valdor’s hands and his cold gaze, not once, but twice. Twice from betrayal, once from Valdor’s, and once from his. 

The guilt is enough to eat anyone alive. 

He doesn’t like the snow. It reminds him too much of Valdor. And what that bastard did. He remembers the hands collapsed limply on his throat, the blood pooling through sticky fingers already losing sensation, the scars braiding across his neck like lightning strikes. The pain of betrayal. And the scent of incense, curdling into ash.

He still insists, as stubborn as an old bull, to take those long walks on the mountains. To drown himself in the memories. 

Thunder Warriors always had higher metabolisms. Ushotan is unbelievably warm. He’s surprisingly comforting when snuggling, his temperature always perhaps a little too hot but undeniably pleasant.

That man sure has a tongue. Ushotan has his own insights, and absolutely no qualms upon voicing them. Sardonic, snappy and without even the hint of restraint. Don’t be taken aback if his language cuts deeper than even his sword. Of course, he could regulate himself, but why bother, when no one has challenged him for decades? (And the only man who could harm him refuses to kill him?)

That man can cuss in no fewer than 12 different languages. Even Valdor is impressed. He, surprisingly, reserves his swears for incidents that actually require them. 

His vivacity and energy is astounding, in more ways than one…For instance, have you ever seen a Thunder Warrior describe the inner mechanics of a tank with an enthusiasm not unlike an overgrown puppy?

(Of course, this also applies to…other factors…)

His neural ports are sensitive, and he guards their access points jealously. Try not to poke him there. Rubbing soothing circles, on the other hand…

As a Thunder Warrior ages, muscle aches become a common occurrence due to their genetic degradation. Ushotan, being much more heavyset than most, must be severely regretting the amount of muscularity he has. Massages are as close to heaven for him as it gets. Nothing precisely exciting about a massage, simply the fact it relieves the tension caused by his genetic instability. 

(It’s not even pleasure, only an absence of pain.)

Thunder Warriors were never meant to fight alone. He was never meant to be alone. Left alone without his brothers, in some deep, buried part of him, hidden under all that ash and false smiles and raucous laughter…somewhere, beneath that false bravado, there’s grief. Grief and isolation and the ache of betrayal so deep it could not be expunged. It could not even be cured, nor brought out to light, it could only be soothed occasionally, when that jagged grin slips off his features as for a moment the former Primarch almost seems like the broken beast he was. A soldier, without a country to fight for, a tool without a purpose. Knowing he’s nothing but a derelict ruin, eking out a miserable existence for a better death. 

(In those days, those times when even Valdor’s knife feels better than his mercy, hold him. Hold him kindly. Wrap an arm around those broad shoulders, poke gently but insistently beneath the scales of half-healed wounds, beneath the aches where memories of his dead brothers lay, and listen to him sob. Listen to him grieve when he finally breaks and lets down his guard. His brothers have been dead for decades, but their Primarch has never accepted their graves.)

His voice is a ragged ruin. A lifetime of stimms, drug abuse encouraged by the Cataegis legions, hasty surgeries, and finally, by Valdor’s hands, have wrecked his once-booming voice. It’s still sharp, and echoing and imposing, as he’s too stubborn to remain silent for long, but he still also rasps occasionally, his laugh a grating chuckle. Occasionally it’s painful for him to speak at all. When away from the company of others, when he can let that mask of sardonic flamboyance slip, Ushotan won’t speak at all. He might let himself cough then, hacking up goblets of oily blood, ignoring the crimson streaks the same way a soldier learns to ignore the stench of corpses.

(He can sing, but only a few warsongs. And a drinking song or two, for good measures. Don’t ask him to try. He’ll laugh at you.) 

(Don’t touch his neck. He hates strangulation. Well, not hate it precisely, but he hates being reminded of the scars on his neck. They’re sensitive. Dreadfully so. Aurite shackles, clipped to his neural ports, could harm him severely. Perhaps a kinder touch could bring him around?)

Sometimes, he can wake himself screaming. Screaming from the dreams. When Valdor slit his throat, and tore his vocal cords, he can still sometimes be heard whimpering. Gasping out wheezes that could have once been screams, awakened from memories of half-remembered war dreams. The dirt of trenches before his boots, the sound of cannons in the distance, every muscle strained and tense for some unknown ambush, battle-madness seeping through his veins before realization sinks in. The trauma will never leave him, not as long as he lives, but he’ll be damned if he lets them see what their Primarch has become.

For the Thunder Warriors that survived with him, he’s still their master, in a sense. He’s alive, isn’t he? He’s all they have left. They look up to him, the same way a broken ship may look towards a granite slab in the distance, weathered and eroded by sun and storm yet still standing strong. (And he’ll be damned if he’ll let them die the same way they died the first time.)

He laughs, he jests, he spars and fights and plays with them, it’s all the brutal, boisterous rituals of Thunder Warriors anyways, soldiers sharing one last smoke before the shells rain down upon them. He can be heard laughing, his booming voice uproarious and unrestrained, confident and unbreakable and as bold as brass before external company, as sharp and as savage as an old knife that still knows how to cut. 

But when that mask of arrogant strength fades, when his jests and his mirth and his sharp, sharp intuitions leave him, there’s nothing but cynicism inside. Nothing but pain in those far too old eyes when his grin finally fades, and his broad shoulders slump from the weight of his defeat. And for a moment he might appear truly beaten, looking upon his surviving Thunder Warriors not with his usual camaraderie but with sorrow, with apologetic suffering when the memories crowd in. A shard of brass, drowning against the unfeeling night. Kandawire had come very close to seeing what he appeared as, what he truly is, at the very edge of this charade, when all his boisterous confidence leaves and the man who had shouldered the entire weight of a broken legion that refused to yield. 

In those moments, Ushotan appears as he truly is. The last remnants of a once glorious legion, soldiers sloughing through the mud in a campaign that will never end, praying the next mortar shell might just strike a bit more accurately. 

In sieges, the key is patience. He knows that under unrelenting force, even the most stubborn of fortresses break. Even the most resolute of walls crumble beneath the relentless assault of batteries, and the screaming of guns. He knows what it feels like when the walls break, and the exhausted soldiers, life broken out of them by cannons and months, gazing back with dull acceptance as their enemies storm through gaping gates and broken walls, their fortresses seized brick by brick and stone by stone. Ushotan knows just how terrible, how painful, it can be…to simply endure.

Because, in truth, is that not what they are? Soldiers in a siege that will never end, holding the line against the stark horror of their very existence itself. No longer living, but simply…existing. Enduring. Sloughing on day after day, when their purpose is made obsolete. 

Former. Primarch. Emphasis on his rank. He was the master of the living storm once. He will not be again. Everything from his old wargear, to his current state, to his very own surviving brothers, seem to exemplify this. Ushotan has never enjoyed feeling quite so old, quite so derelict. 

He’s good with machinery, repairing, innovating, engineering, designing. He’s also good with beating random thugs to death with random bits of machinery. One happens more often than the other. 

Be prepared for occasional outbursts of violence. For a Thunder Warrior, his self-control is remarkably strict. He’s still just about sane, just about in control but there are…lapses. Chinks in his armor. When that smile slips and his memories take over, when he’s a young creature again(Hell, he’s always young, he hasn’t aged since the augments) and smelling the frost of Maulland Sen, Valdor standing at his shoulder. Those memories are never pleasant. He remembers few actually pleasant moments.

For a Thunder Warrior, he can be remarkably patient. Ushotan may have the temperment of a ragged, vengeful, surprisingly playful bear, but he’s still sane enough for self-control. 

Of course, the whiskey. How could one forget? That man could down countless bottles of it without even a single difference. Drowning his sorrows, perhaps, but in this case his sorrows are as cold as a mountain, and as elegant as a certain captain-general, still undoubtedly hunting Terra for his absence. 

Why is he alive? Ushotan doesn’t even know why himself. No need to worry, he’s not foolish enough to…attempt anything. Cowardice is the lowest form of treachery among Thunder Warriors. If he dies, he’ll do it fighting, claw and tooth and nail and fang.

Fighting. It’s what he loves, in a sense. They all love it. It was beaten into their genes. Nothing happier than when he’s grinning, fists covered in blood, wounds standing stark against his broad frame, and not even feeling a single twinge of pain. Hacking, bleeding, wounded and wounding, up to his knees in the heat of combat. That is when Ushotan and his brothers know joy. Wild, unadulterated joy. He knows his purpose. He knows his worth. It was, in a sense, all he is good for.

(Exhaustion can quickly set in, especially given the energy expenditure of a Thunder Warrior. Ushotan has collapsed before, out of sheer exhaustion. The Thunder Warriors can carry him back. That fool of a Primarch only laughs, runs a hand through his cropped hair and calls it “sleeping troubles” before walking off.)

They’ve replaced him already. Ushotan has always noted this with a form of ironic humor. They’ve replaced the Thunder Warriors. He had fought the Astartes in that failed coup, and he wasn’t even impressed. But it was real now. Evidence, in his bloodstained hands. The cycle was complete. The world had no use for him now, even though he had helped build it, brick by brick.

(In rare moments of introspection, the former Primarch sometimes concludes that it is truly better to be forgotten. After all, who would care for the savage soldiers of a bygone age, when victory - and not the struggles it took to achieve them - were already in their grasp?)

Valdor’s still looking for him. He knows it, Valdor knows it. They both know it. It’s a burning, broken thing. An obsession. Ushotan knows that when Valdor catches him, he will kill whomever was kind enough to take him in, he’ll kill his brothers, he’ll kill them and drag Ushotan home in golden chains. The captain will throw him in the Dungeons to rot out an immortality without life, where the sun eclipsed the stars and the nights are endless. 

Taxidermied like a living corpse on display, he’d never see Terra again. If Valdor catches him. If Valdor catches him. There would be no escape.

It is on days like this when he realizes the futility of trying to hide, that he takes another swig of whiskey, closes his blue-grey eyes, and tries to forget. 

(Perhaps…some certain actions can help him relax? He isn’t entirely deprived of desire after all, if one is willing to press him enough.)

His eyes are surprisingly beautiful. They aren’t dark, or black, as presumed. They’re an icy blue overcast with grey. Like stormclouds. Like a hanged sky. Like rain. Such a shame Ushotan doesn’t showcase them often.

Scars. Multitudes of them. They scrawl over his chest, his back, his hips, his thighs, nearly every inch of him. Each scar, a silent story unfolding over flesh, with words he has no interest in speaking. Ushotan doesn’t care for his body, in a sense. He knows it will fail him. He knows it will kill him. The poison in his veins will burn him alive, either way, why would he love what is essentially a glorified coffin?

(He really, really does need to take better care of himself…)

[yevasxvoid]

Clouds Hidden Beneath The Sun - [Yuta Okkotsu x Reader]

Chapter 2: I had doubts about many things, and I wanted to solve you first

January 2018

“The last thing I remember is my father bringing me here, and failing to run away. He mentioned a terrorist attack, and didn’t disclose where my mother was..I think he killed her,” Y/n used the handkerchief Gojo had given her to wipe some of the blood from her hands. “And I’m not sure if all this blood is mine. There are no open wounds on my body, but everywhere hurts.”

“Your father murdered a few higher ups in cold blood, and your mother went missing. They are both suspected to have co-operated with Suguru in the terrorist attack on Kyoto and Tokyo.” Gojo wasn’t unnerved in the slightest. Y/n could not decide if it was irritating or reassuring. “Oh, and it’s been a week since you went missing.”

“So, will I be executed?”

“What makes you think that?” He asked.

“Answer me.”

“Geez, you’re so pushy.” He sighed, “No.”

“I’m not an idiot. I know there’s consequences.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, why should there be consequences for you?”

Y/n gave up, and turned on the radio to drown out the silence in the car. They were driving toward Tokyo. Most of the things in her house must have already been confiscated. There was nothing there for her to miss, anyway. 

The dorms at Tokyo Jujutsu High weren’t very different from Kyoto. Y/n found her dorm room with ease, and waited until late night. No students would be around.

The first thing she did was take off her dirty clothes, and put them in a bag to burn later. She scoured every inch of her body until her skin turned red. Filthy water went down the drain. This much dirt and blood had never been caked onto her body before. It took a while to wash out and comb the knots from her hair. 

She dried off her body, and looked closely in the mirror. What she disregarded earlier, as dirt, was actually a scar. It was a hideous array of lines that resembled wild vines around her neck. She grimaced, and checked the rest of her body for anything else. There was nothing. 

Y/n’s body could barely move. Her body ached, but dread filled her thinking of what her mind would conjure when her eyelids shut. She put her phone to charge and left her dorm with the clothes she intended to burn. She took a tour across the school grounds until she arrived at a clearing on the outskirts of the school. She threw the bag into the snow, and reached into her pocket for a lighter. She sat on the untouched snow, and watched as it burned. 

From this hill, she overlooked most of the High School grounds. It wasn’t until then that Y/n understood how pissed she was. Her father, who had pushed her so hard to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Who pressured her to upkeep the family legacy every second she breathed, went and ruined everything on his own. 

Her mother had gone missing, and Y/n was unsure if that meant she also deserted. And there was the question of what had happened to her in the last week, and why she remembers nothing. Y/n’s head hurt as she considered all the responsibilities she now had. 

She took a deep breath, and laid down in the snow to stare up at the sky. She took off her gloves, and relished in the sting of the frost against her bare fingers. First, she’d try to understand her father, Mr. Fujino.

—

“Class, we have a new student!” Gojo announced as they entered the room. 

“I’m Y/n Fujino, it is nice to meet you all.” 

“I’m Panda, that’s Inumaki Toge.”

“Cod roe.”

“I already know Toge, we’re practically besties!” Y/n grinned.

“Salmon.”

“But this is my first time meeting a Mutated Cursed Corpse, can I touch you?”

“Sure.”

“Wow, you feel like a real Panda!” She ran her hands across his fur, “You are principal Yaga’s creation, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Long time no see, I hope you haven’t been slacking.” Maki smirked.

“You sound confident, maybe you’ll actually beat me next time we spar.” There was a moment of tension in the air before both girls chuckled, “I missed you, Maki-roll!” They embraced each other briefly.

There was one more person for her to greet. “I remember you, Okkotsu, right?” 

“It’s nice to meet you again, Y/n.” Okkotsu smiled brightly. 

He noticed her staring at his uniform. She felt her cheeks burn, “You don’t stick out like a sore thumb anymore.”

“Yeah.” Neither of them knew what to say next. They just stared at each other, until Gojo cleared his throat.

“Fish flakes.”

“Awkward.” Panda whispered.

“You’’ll commence training as usual, but I have other matters to attend to.”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference,” Maki said. Panda hummed in agreement.

—

“You haven’t been able to beat Maki, have you?” Y/n mused as Okkotsu stood up from the ground after taking another loss.

“No, she’s insanely talented.” 

“That is true,” she took his wooden sword, “I’ll take the opportunity to show off, then.”

“Don’t get so confident Y/n. ” Maki rubbed salt into his wounds.

Inumaki and Panda stopped what they were doing to watch with Yuta. 

“It’s been a while since I used a sword, far too simple for my taste.” She got into an offensive stance. Maki did the same. For a moment, they both waited to see who would attack first. 

Y/n started out strong with a feint, and follow up attack. Maki blocked it, and countered with her staff. Okkotsu was surprised his eyes managed to keep up with their altercation. Y/n’s form was amazing, you could tell she had years of experience behind her—so did Maki, but there was a certain grace to her movements. She was able to block things that weren’t even in her line of sight. The amount of power behind a single flick of her wrist—every movement was deliberate, while her strikes held precision and accuracy. 

Okkotsu knew Y/n could hit harder and faster than this if she used her energy, he had been the recipient of those attacks. In a competition for just raw strength, the two sorcerers fought on equal footing. Their expressions were extremely focused as their blades clashed against each other, but there were smiles on both their lips.

One mistake from either side would mark a clear victory. Okkotsu felt himself shrinking as he realized the capability gap between the two girls and himself. He was pulled out of his thoughts as Y/n and Maki tumbled to the ground. Although Maki was on top of Y/n, her back was pressed to her due Y/n’s blade at her throat and legs restricting her. They both panted heavily before laughter spilled from their lips.

“You’ve gotten much stronger, Maki-bae!” Y/n grinned, “I barely kept up with you.”

“You have as well,” Maki grinned, “but I’ll definitely win next time.” 

“Now I see how Okkotsu lost to Y/n.” Panda said.

“Tuna.”

Y/n had to avoid doing anything that raised eyebrows. She was being monitored throughout the day. There was not a moment when a pair of hidden eyes were not on her. The first week at Tokyo was used to gain a closer understanding of the layout. She usually asked Toge to show her around, guising it as the rekindling of a childhood friendship—which wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, they could only spend so much time together without it being suspicious. 

Half way into the second week, Gojo spoke with her after training, “I compromised with the higher ups. You’ll be doing missions again but always with a partner.”

“What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing you need to know about,” He teased.

“It’s serious enough for me to have a buddy system, apparently.”

“Don’t worry your little head about it,” He patted her head. “Yuta’s your partner for today, teach him a thing or two, will ya?”

“Isn’t that your job?!” Y/n exclaimed, but Gojo already started to walk away.

“I’ll go find Okkotsu!” 

Darkness veiled the town as night descended. Missions have become more daunting after dispelling Rika. There was no longer an immovable force protecting him from any signs of danger, so he was often paired with Y/n. Okkotsu could barely see two feet in front of him and was reluctant to stray too far away from Y/n. He was more compelled to hold onto her but he would want to have some shred of dignity if he made it out of this situation alive. 

There’s a grade 1 spirit in a village past the outskirts of Tokyo, essentially the countryside so the higher ups believe you two can dispel it. If anything unexpected happens, run—or give me a call….actually just do both but don’t die.” Gojo had warned them.

Gojo hasn’t confronted her about sneaking out at night, and it unnerved Y/n. She was even more surprised when he started giving her missions again. It seems that she lost her solo mission privileges, though. She was always paired up with a classmate, usually Okkotsu. She didn’t mind. Besides, The monsters in Tokyo were often on the same skill level as Kyoto.

The village was about the size of a shopping mall. Except, the houses were dilapidated and filthy, windows had been broken and the glass scattered on the poorly paved pathway, crunching beneath their feet. That and their breathing was the only thing that could be heard, the village was completely silent and not even the wind howled.  

“No signs of life….there aren’t even any animals,” Y/n stopped in her tracks.

“There aren’t any residuals either,” Okkotsu added.

“Stay close to me and on guard. Worst comes to worst I’ll use my domain expansion,” Y/n said as she began walking. Okkotsu matched her pace so they were almost shoulder to shoulder. He's been partnered with her long enough to remember the program—stay close to her but not enough so that you get comfortable.

“There’s footprints now…something’s been here recently,” Okkotsu said.

“Do you see that too?” Y/n gestured ahead of them and Okkotsu hummed in approval, seeing the faint light ahead. 

As they continued walking, the fog became thinner and the houses were in slightly better condition, with all windows and doors intact. Okkotsu swiftly unsheathed his sword in response to catching movement in the corner of his eyes. Y/n stopped in her tracks too and her attention snapped to the object of his attention. A black cat scurried across their path and Okkotsu’s expression softened as a low chuckle escaped Y/n. 

“Being scared doesn’t justify slaughtering a defenseless animal,” Y/n was visibly amused as she continued walking.

“Black cats crossing your path is bad luck anyways,” Okkotsu mumbled, “sorry, I hate this atmosphere.”

“I’m no Rika, but you won’t be dying in my company. I assure you.”

“I know, I just dislike being dead weight,” Okkotsu said.

“Is that how you feel about being partnered with me?” Y/n smirked, “It’s not everyday I get a tall male jujutsu sorcerer clinging to me like a lost puppy. I couldn’t imagine a better moral support.”

“Is that how you feel about being partnered with me?” Okkotsu rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Yeah, for the most part.” She affirmed, “....I know sorcery has been frustrating for you recently but this is just your opportunity to experiment with your cursed technique. You’ll be a special grade again in no time.”

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Intuition,” Y/n paused, “It might feel you’re back at square one right now but anyone who’s been observing you can tell….I’ve been spending too much time with eccentrics. I’m not a mentor or anything of the sort so I’m not in the position to be giving advice.”

“Neither is Gojo-sensei, really.” Y/n’s lips tugged upwards at that. He felt almost prideful that Y/n smiled at his joke.

“I’m also just a student trying to cultivate their Jujutsu sorcery. I’m not half as strong as Gojo yet, how could my opinion carry more weight than anyone else's?”

‘I admire you,’ Okkotsu’s face burned red at the thoughts that were on the tip of his tongue, “I admire your ambitions and personality. You’re one of the coolest people I know. I mean, have you seen yourself? Almost everything you do is breathtaking.”

“Oh,” there was a slight waiver to her voice, Okkotsu assumed she was trying not to laugh at him. He nervously glanced at her to see a flustered expression on her face, ‘that’s new.’

He regretted his words immensely, wishing he stuck with the simple three words instead of digging a deeper hole for himself. ‘Great. Now she’s uncomfortable.’ Okkotsu dropped the topic, choosing not to embarrass the both of them any further, “I see someone.”

“You sure it’s not another feline…” Y/n raised her lantern as she saw the figure standing on the front porch. It was an old woman, shaking and tightly gripping a stained blanket.

“My child…please, help me find my child.” She wailed.

Y/n and Okkotsu shared a glance before approaching. The woman’s eyes were shadowed by her hair as she stared down at the cloth between her hands.

“Miss, what happened?” Okkotsu spoke.

“My child…don’t ask.” She dropped the blanket abruptly before slowly looking up.

Y/n’s expression hardened as she raised the lantern higher, to view the lady’s face. Or rather, the two mutilated holes where her eyes should be and a smooth surface, as if her nose and mouth were never present. Okkotsu and Y/n visibly cringed and gripped their weapons tightly.

“DON’T ASK!” she said louder, liquid began to leak out of her eyes.

“Step back, don’t let anything touch you.” Y/n whispered.

“DONT ASK! DONT ASK! DONT ASK!” She shrieked, digging her fingers into her scalp that bled profusely.

Y/n’s eyes darted around their surroundings, preparing for any surprise attacks until the woman finally quieted and dropped to the ground. An atrocious smell filled their noses before the figure’s flesh and bone melted. 

“Was that a human?” Okkotsu asked.

“....I think so,” Y/n continued walking, “this could be the work of a curse user. I’ll contact Gojo before we lose the signal.” 

“Hello?” he answered immediately.

“Gojo-sensei, this could be the work of a curse user rather than…” She began, but the call instantly went to static and cut off, “Someone interfered with the call, this should be expected. At Least he knows something’s up.”

“So it wants to make sure we’re trapped….” Okkotsu sighed heavily.

“I don’t have any plans moving forward. If something goes wrong, you should run. At Least one of us will make it out alive.”

“You used a lot of words to call me a coward,” Okkotsu began walking this time.

Y/n wanted to tease, but she found it difficult to do so when someone else’s life was her responsibility, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

They walked in silence, and the words she spoke weighed heavily on her. These were the things Jujutsu Sorcerers were expected to face. Even if they were both terrified, telling the other to run away would only add insult to injury. 

“Sorcerers never die without regrets,” She said. “I should’ve known better than telling you to run earlier.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let you die here.”

“I know,” She shot him an apologetic expression, “This person’s cursed energy is extremely familiar and I need to know why. Do you feel it?” 

“No, not at all.” He paused, and Y/n noticed the slight trembling of his hand—he was still shaken up from that strange encounter. “What happens if we end up having to kill real people?” Okkotsu spoke.

“Either we kill them or something more gruesome does. It’s all about perspective, really. Isn’t the curse user we're looking for a human being? Nobody of importance gave us the right to kill him, so does one, two or five more people really make a difference?’ That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”

“Do you believe that?” 

“Sometimes.”

Silence hung over the both of them for the better as they got closer to the light source. Inaudible whispers and the cackling of fire could be heard when they arrived in front of a large, stone manor. Okkotsu knew that the Jujutsu world was already corrupt—I mean, they were willing to execute a 16 year old boy without a second thought. Okkotsu didn’t mind it at the time, but most people would consider that ethically wrong. He realized, when fear is at play, it’s difficult to be concerned about moral high ground.

“That thing earlier wasn't human because of the strange patterns in her cursed energy. The way it began moving was too rapid, as if it was tearing through the very fiber of her being. It’s not much to go off of but until we are sure….”

“Let’s just worry about understanding the situation first,” Okkotsu reassured, “I know you’re trying your best. If we’re equals like you implied earlier, then trust me rather than comfort me.”

In the distance, they could see a group of figures huddled together. They all held small lamps, and it illuminated their faces when they turned to survey the two sorcerers. 

“Hello, are you visitors?” A man dressed in rags asked.

“Are you people, the residents?” Okkotsu asked.

“Yes, what business do you outsiders have here?” 

“We were wandering, and got lost. Do you have any idea where we are?” Y/n’s brows furrowed in distress, “Me, and my friend need to return home before our parents realize we’re gone.”

They all took multiple steps back, and huddled back together to whisper among themselves. Yuta and Y/n shared a glance with each other–they had both seen it. Their inverted feet—a trait of mutated corpses. Okkotsu unsheathed his sword, and began to cut them down before Y/n did. She started to follow suit, but the ground beneath her feet sank. 

Y/n arose in a new area. She was inside an old, small shrine. A chill went down her spine. Her eyes closely scanned her surroundings. The only source of light was the moonlight which shone through the massive hole in the ceiling. She felt an arm wrap around her face, but it was different. She grabbed the hand, and it vanished between her fingers. Her palm opened again to reveal a Wisteria flower. She dragged her finger against her blade to create a shallow cut, and licked it.

“Domain Expansion: Hysteria.” The facade before her eyes cracked, and she turned to the perpetrator. “You thought that would work on me?”

The perpetrator was a woman with a slim face, and short black hair, but those dark empty eyes were painstakingly familiar. This woman was tall, withered and bony. The similarities to her father were eerie.

“Is that how you greet your aunt?” She grinned, “I just wanted to test you, that's all.” 

“My parents never mentioned you.” 

“I figured they wouldn't tell you about me, your mother always hated me.” She took a step forward, “Call me Mina.”

“Is that related to your decision to become a curse user?” Y/n took another step forward, refusing to show weakness to a supposed relative. “This town was ruined by you, wasn’t it?”

“Non-curse users will do anything to spite their enemies, I won’t carry their blame.” Her mouth twitched, “Your mother also avoided that reality, but my father finally accepted it. I’d hate to see you continue down this pointless path”

Y/n didn’t want to hear anymore. Her blades materialized in her hand, and she appeared behind the curse user. She made two long lacerations on her back, and followed up with a kick. A loud crack sounded when Mina stumbled forward. 

“Never speak of my parents,” Y/n lunged forward to skewer her, but Mina disintegrated and appeared on the other side of the room. She threw her head back, and a grating noise echoed throughout the room. Her bones were repairing themselves, Y/n realized. 

“Stop trying to end this quickly, it’s our first meeting after so many years.” Her face twitched, “I want to enjoy it.”

Y/n heard Okkotsu’s footsteps in the distance, but her eyes focused on the strange curse user before her. Her heart beat was loud in her ears, and hands drenched in sweat. Y/n was scared, and could not afford to let this woman escape. The familiar energy sensed earlier, stemmed from this woman. Even if she lied about being her aunt, there was an undeniable connection between this woman and her family.

‘And earlier…she put me inside an illusion.’ Y/n scoffed, “I’ll admit that you’re powerful.”

“I’m your blood, of course I am.” She laughed, “It seems you're inclined to listen now.”

“Are you okay?” Y/n glanced at Okkotsu.

He hummed, “Are you?” She hummed.

“I guess mourning isn’t enough to stop you from finding a boy toy.” 

“My mother isn’t confirmed to be dead.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Is that so?”

“Are you the one responsible for their disappearance?” 

“You really don’t remember?” 

“Remember what?” Y/n’s patience was running thin.

“Y/n, you killed your parents.”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to waste time.” Yuta interrupted.

He was right. Even if this woman was related to her father, her goal right now was to finish this mission. Y/n and Yuta glanced at each other before starting their coordinated assault. They worked together smoothly, covering each other's blind spots and maneuvering around each other to back Mina into a corner. Occasionally, one of them would feint, and give the other a chance to land a heavy blow. But, no matter how much damage they dealt, the woman just regenerated. 

“I’m sorry lovebirds, but I’m going to put an end to this fight quickly.” She grinned again. Her eyes trained on Yuta, and the floor beneath him sank. Y/n tried to grab him, but his form passed through her hand.

Y/n frantically cut her arm again. This time, the cut was frantic and deeper than intended. She smeared the blood against her lips as the woman cackled. 

“Domain Expansion!” Y/n countered.

In an instant, splotches of various shades of gray, blue and black exploded before her eyes. Time was suspended. In the distance, she saw Yuta entering a window of emptiness, similar to the one she felt on the last day she saw her father. In less than a second, she grabbed Yuta and banished him from this space. They couldn’t both escape, the emptiness demanded something. Demanded her—and the scar on her throat burned as it consumed her. 

Y/n woke up in a dark room. The only light source were the torches hung onto the four corners of the dirty stone walls. Her hands were bound behind her back, and in the dark, a figure stood.

“Father, why are you doing this?” Her throat was raw.

He held an iron rod in his hand that glowed red as he approached Fayvia. 

“I’ve spent my whole life protecting powerless humans, but why? I married another sorcerer, and even had a child. Most of my days are spent repetitively slaying these curses because it’s more interesting than the world those defenseless fools built for themselves.” 

He came into the light that shone down onto her. She felt disgusted. His eyes were not normal. His pupils morphed into something ugly, like an entanglement of vines. When he blinked, a similar pattern was carved into his eyelids. She didn’t register that the iron rod in his hand was a branding pipe until she yanked her head backwards, and pressed it flush against her neck. She choked on her scream, and tears spilled from her eyelids.

“With you, Y/n. I can put an end to it all.” Was the last thing she heard before losing consciousness.

She opened her eyes again. This time, it was her mother gently caressing her face. “Y/n, wake up.” Y/n was too terrified to say anything in response. The sting of her new scar was still present.

Her mother had cut her bonds away, “I don’t have much time left. Your father is trying to put a curse inside you. He is angry because I won’t let him.”

Her mother’s voice had a tremble of fear to it, and Y/n noticed the blood that soaked her clothes. “Mom-”

“Listen to me,” She held Y/n’s face again. “You will have to fight. Fight against your father, and the abomination he wants to put inside you, okay?”

Y/n nodded. She felt saddened, but couldn’t bring herself to cry. Not even when her mother went limp before her. Her attention was averted to the sound of hasty footsteps. She stood up, and saw her father entering back into the room. There were two pathways, and Y/n quickly got up, and ran in the opposite direction.

“Y/n!” Her father screamed, chasing behind her. The hallways twisted and turned like a labyrinth. There was no clear exit, but Y/n knew to keep moving—Her father would not catch her. This man had 3 times the fight experience–she had no chance in a head on fight.

As her fear grew, the pain in her body was consumed by something. Not by her own energy, but something akin to a parasite. Something that shouldn’t be there. She felt numb, and weak. She glanced behind her, but had to quickly drop to the ground, and avoid her father’s cursed technique. If it touched her, she’d be done for. 

She caught up to her, and landed a kick in her stomach. Y/n flew into the stone wall. Her father grabbed her by the throat, and smashed her into the wall—for good measure. “After everything I’ve done for you, you refuse to return this one favor for me!”

He screamed at her. Y/n flinched. She was afraid to look her father in the eye, but there was nowhere for her to run. The scar on her neck started to burn again, and her father stumbled backwards. She slid onto the floor, blinded by a sheet of white. 

Y/n woke up in a dark room. The only light source were the torches hung onto the four corners of the dirty stone walls. Her hands were bound behind her back, and in the dark, a figure stood. The moment replayed over and over again. Everytime, her mother would go limp, Y/n would run, and her father would eventually catch her. She wanted to give up the chase, and just let him catch her before even trying.

Y/n’s body was heavy as Okkotsu laid her on the ground, her head in his lap. Her skin was simmering, it felt as though his skin would be burnt if he held her longer. As her eyes slowly blinked open, Okkotsu saw the distressed expression on his face clearly. The girl was looking straight at him, but she could see nothing except hues of gold, brown, black and blue. 

“Feel so weak….Yuta’s safe,” she croaked out.

“Y/n please, don’t give up now.” He frantically unbuttoned her jacket and mentally apologized to her, ‘If the burning begins from the core, then things should stop if I heal it fast enough…’

The idea was half-baked but it was the only thing that made sense at the moment. His hands pressed firmly onto Y/n’s abdomen and he focused on his own cursed energy. Half-baked was an understatement, Okkotsu had never performed a reversed-cursed technique after the day he freed Rika. Y/n’s body temperature was now dropping drastically and he couldn’t resist closing his eyes as dread entered his veins. 

‘It’s too soon,’ Okkotsu’s heart almost stopped in his chest as his hands began to glow and tears blurred his vision, “I can’t let you go,”

Okkotsu continued to steadily pour his cursed energy into her. The advice she gave him rang in his ears, ‘A reversed curse technique isn’t like pouring rubbing alcohol on a wound. It’s extremely different when you’re trying to heal a person compared to quickly destroying a curse. When healing major wounds….it’s almost like an exchange for me. It’s not just pouring your energy into them. You have to absorb some of their negative energy into yours and recycle it before it goes back into their body, that’s the simplest way I can put it.  Of course, if you have too much negative energy yourself then one of the parties involved can die on the spot.’ 

In truth, Okkotsu had always considered Y/n to be dangerous. He saw her on a pedestal out of his reach. In the moment where he desperately tried to keep Y/n’s vitals stable, he finally saw her—another teenage sorcerer dealing with the consequences of the adults around her. He felt a deeper pull from the flow of cursed energy and he allowed it to tug. 

“Specialized reverse cursed technique,” He said.

While his cursed energy flowed through both their bodies like cold water. It brought a familiar feeling to him, the emptiness he felt for five years while being haunted by Rika. This was almost enough to disrupt his system entirely, but that wasn’t the energy he was looking for. His eyes shut tightly again as he focused. It felt like acid pouring into his veins as his energy enveloped it. It dissolved rather quickly, surprising Okkotsu enough to open his eyes and see Gojo-sensei standing a few feet away from them.

Gojo smirked, “she’s waking up.”

Y/n stirred slightly before opening her eyes and exhaling deeply. Her head still rested in Okkotsu’s lap when he smiled at her with a tear stained face. The words that she had intended to say died on her tongue and dissipated from her mind as she looked at him.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Carbon Pen and Glass Bead Event (Day 5)

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released on the global server! ⌚

✦ thursday || friday || saturday || sunday || monday || tuesday || wednesday

【High School Affiliated to Loveland University Second Year (Section 1) Semester Schedule - Monday】

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

[CHINESE]:

“My desire to cross the Yellow River is stopped by frozen water. An attempt to go up Mount Taihang is frustrated by snow. In my leisure time, I go fishing on shore in greenish water. Suddenly I’m dreaming while riding a boat sailing near the sun… The road is tough! It’s very tough! It branches out into many other paths. Where am I now…”

As Victor pulls on the rope, he silently recites these verses in his heart.

He should have no problems in the upcoming Chinese class dictation test.

–

[Tidbits]: The poem Victor rehearses here is a very famous piece by a Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai, who was exiled from the imperial court. The poem expresses his disappointment, frustration, as well as hopefulness.

–

[CHEMISTRY]:

The chemistry teacher has always been the most well-liked among everyone because she never goes beyond the scheduled time for classes. However, Victor knows that it’s only because she is too busy as the curriculum coordinator.

—

[ENGLISH]:

As the lecturer imparts grammar lessons systematically, Victor subconsciously thinks that this usually quirky and enthusiastic young man is, in fact, an outstanding teacher.

However, when there are only ten minutes left until the end of the class and the other party complacently launches a new English trivia activity, Victor withdraws his opinion.

—

[PHYSICS]:

“After reviewing everyone’s test scores, I must say you guys are indeed the lowest-performing batch I’ve ever taught.”

Knitting his brows into a frown, Victor looks at the exam paper in his hand with a score of 92, contemplating how he needs to work harder to achieve a higher score next time.

—

[MATH]:

“Who wants to come to the blackboard and solve this function?”

The classroom lapses into silence, everyone avoiding eye contact with the teacher. Victor has never been the one to deliberately draw the spotlight to himself, so he begins contemplating his solution while remaining seated.

Looking at the answer on his paper, Victor casually shifts his gaze ahead and twirls his pen. Even if Old Gao catches him, it won’t be a big deal.

“Someone come to board and solve this problem? Did you guys not understand what I said?”

“Sigh, such indifference. Zheng Xi, come up here and explain this on my behalf.”

—

[MATH]:

“Surely, one of our friends will come up to the board and solve this problem, right?”

The classroom sinks into silence, the eyes of everyone darting around. Victor, who always naturally keeps his eyes straight ahead, now lowers his head ever so slightly—— of course, he has lowered his head just a little bit.

He’s also unsure about this problem.

“Vic, the teacher can feel your enthusiasm from here.”

“Step forward and demonstrate your skills.”

—

[BIOLOGY]:

The gentle tone, calm and steady, without any ups and downs, evenly erodes the determination of each student.

Therefore, it’s often the case that teachers who are overly gentle can be quite frightening.

—

[BIOLOGY]:

As Victor holds the chalk and marks how the distribution of plants is influenced by geographical locations, he sneaks in a quiet yawn, away from everyone’s view with his back to the class. Only God knows how long he’s been holding it in.

But it’s also good, at least answering a question can liven things up a bit. He can work on today’s biology homework during the second half of the class.

—

──────

✧ next stop: Tuesday

─────────

[butternuggets-blog]

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @wheresthesunshinesblog @adowbaldwin @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont @adarafaelbarba-blog @dogblessyoutascha

Part Fifty-Three

Summary:  Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a  lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of  mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to  irritate him every other century

Also on AO3

Baldwin was white-knuckling the stonework as he listened to the laughter echoing from just around the corner.

He'd had hours.. days (Gods, it felt like hours) to get it through his thick skull that he lo-loved his best friend and now he was here and laughing and why the hell couldn't he walk around the damn corner-

Baldwin took a deep breath.

He was going to stand here forever, like an absolute fool, or pry his fingers from the wall and march.

He took another deep breath.

Which promptly choked him as he stepped around the corner and saw Martin smiling at Yvette.

He's glowing.

Backlit by sunshine streaming down onto the courtyard, his skin was dappled caramel by the afternoon sky. His hair was spun up into short, cropped snow, fashionably unkempt and light in the breeze, standing out starkly against the rich turquoise of his tunic and the tan leather of his boots.

He looked like a god and Baldwin was ready to lie down on the altar.

'Well!' Godfrey clapped his hands together loudly and stood up. Baldwin nearly jumped out of his skin; he hadn't noticed his brother sitting behind Martin on a low brick wall. 'I shall leave you all too it!'

Please-do-not-leave-please-do-not-leave-no no no no Fuck!

'Lucius!'

'Still Baldw-oof!'

And now Martin was hugging him, strong arms wrapped around him and his mouth inches from Baldwin's ear. He desperately swallowed the high-pitched whine that was rising higher and higher in his throat and ignored the way his skin prickled and pulsed with heat where Martin was pressed against him.

'Thank you for taking care of Yvette for me,' Martin said, quietly.

Everything was apricot and tobacco and sunshine and Baldwin wanted to cry.

________________________________________________________________

Yvette was beginning to worry that her uncle was going to wear a hole right through the floor of the library.

She had been put in charge of sorting through the enormous amounts of scrolls, books and loose sheafs of paper that were in Sept Tours' library in order to try and figure out what organisational style Hugh's ghost had used to 'tidy up'.

It must be very boring, being dead; relying on the living for entertainment.

Baldwin had come in while she was browsing Great-Uncle Philippe's collection of astrolabes someone had used as bookends for a collection of illuminated bibles. He was focused on something that was troubling him deeply; Yvette saw the oddly-haunted look in his eyes he chased away with a smile and an offer to help her reshelve the manuscripts, but when he turned away the set of his shoulders told her that the look had returned.

He was now pacing the length of the library, Bible in his hand. She had sent him off into the room to put it back but he kept "forgetting" where it was supposed to go as an excuse for him to retread his steps.

On second thought, he may actually have been so distracted by whatever was bothering him that he really had forgotten about the book.

'Do you wish to talk about something, Uncle Baldwin?' Yvette piped up.

'Hm, what? Oh, sorry sweetheart,' Baldwin kissed the top of Yvette's head, put the Bible where it was supposed to go, and zipped back to the table. 'No, it is nothing.'

'Are you sure? Perhaps you should talk to ɸatīr-' a strange strangled expression passed quickly over Baldwin's face, '-he is only downstairs.'

'No, no,' Baldwin swallowed. 'It is nothing we need bother your ɸatīr about.'

'ɸatīr has taught me that when I cannot find the right words, writing down my thoughts can help,' Yvette commented, smiling encouragingly.

________________________________________________________________

I lo

I have feelings f

We have been good friends for centuries and I have never been unsure of this until now.

I am sorry.

I will get better at this. I promise.

Author's Notes

The latest book in the series, The Black Bird Oracle, has just been released. I will be encorporating some background information from the book into later chapters of this story if I deem it necessary, but for the most part I will continue focussing on the first trio of books and the tv series.

[bananacorn-limeade]

1961's The WORLD of ICE and FIRE

I'm going to do it. I'm going to self-indulge!

The Roger Corman ASOIAF production post is mostly just a novelty, but since I'm me, I have a lot of FEELINGS and OPINIONS about this cast. Naturally.

Anyway. Here's how well I think the actors in my post would play their roles, from worst to best.

#19, Worst: John Ashley as Robb Stark

You know how Ben Affleck has a face that knows about emails? John Ashley has a face that knows about sock hops. Woefully miscast.

#18: Tor Johnson as Gregor Clegane

God love the big guy, but I've only ever seen him make this face. Also, despite his repertoire of roles suggesting otherwise on paper, he just doesn't seem like a mean guy.

#17: John Agar as Jaime Lannister

Another terrible choice. The only reason he's not ranked as worst is because his soulless performance would make viewers interpret Jaime as an absolutely irredeemable sociopath, which at least would be... uh, interesting, I guess.

#16 Robert Reed as Renly Baratheon

Renly, but only if he was the most boring Baratheon. Go ahead, try to picture Reed eating a peach. You can't.

#15 Dawn Bender as Arya Stark

Aw, she'd try. But I feel like her attempts at Arya's fire would mostly come off as petulance.

#14 Richard Carlson as Ned Stark

Sorry, what? I fell asleep for a minute there.

#13 June Kenney as Daenerys Targaryen

Kenney would try her level best, but you know Corman would do a terrible job incorporating her storyline with the main plot, so she wouldn't have much to do except lounge around on mildly offensive orientalist sets and talk to her force-perspective dragon puppets. (Stop-motion you say? What, you think American International is made of money?)

#12 Dolores Faith as Sansa Stark

Again, no knock to Faith, but as with Daenerys, I think a 1961 production would flatten Sansa's character away to nothing. She'd get to pine and wear some nice dresses.

#11 Anthony Dexter as Petyr Baelish

This guy can play oily like nobody's business (check him out in 1962's Married Too Young), but 5D-chess-level deviousness might be beyond him.

#10 Michael Dunn as Tyrion Lannister

Full disclosure: I'm plopping him in the middle because I've never seen him in anything! The only little person I've personally seen in Corman's movies is Billy Barty (playing an actual, literal imp), and Dunn was someone I found who was said to play much meatier roles. In general, I think the depth of Tyrion's character would seriously challenge 1960s casting directors who were used to casting little people in jokey roles or as something less than human. One of many problems they'd have with the source material, no doubt.

#9 Lon Cheney Jr. as Sandor Clegane

Here's another actor who would do the best with what he was given - which would be an essentially empty role. This Sandor would be a beast used only for jump scares, with too much rubber over his face to ever show an emotion.

#8 Glen Langan as Stannis Baratheon

Langan would be serious, but dull, with lots of droning sermonizing. In other words, perfect. Still boring though.

#7 Basil Rathbone as Tywin Lannister

Who better to play a role totally owned by Charles Dance than an actor who's even Charles Dancier? The only reason I'm not ranking this legend higher is because I do think he'd kind of sleepwalk through this role, especially at this stage in his career.

#6 Raymond Burr as Robert Baratheon

The future Mr. Perry Mason was damn good at playing hard-drinking, prowly, "beastly" men. See him in this fabulous trailer for 1951's Bride of the Gorilla (spoiler: Burr is the gorilla). Of course, for this production, he'd be about 10 years on from that virile role, but that's perfectly on brand for Bobby B.

#5 Michael Landon as Jon Snow

Landon's tortured James Dean era would be a great fit for angsty goth teen Jon, though he might have trouble keeping his feelings as hidden as Jon does.

#4 Allison Hayes as Melisandre

Should she be ranked this high? Eh, maybe not, but this woman is a goddamn B-movie bombshell goddess. Her Red Woman would be a little less mysterious, sure, but her perfectly arched eyebrows and bullet bra would do R'hllor proud all the same.

#3 Marie Windsor as Catelyn Stark

They didn't call her Queen of the B's for nothing. Windsor always did great with roles that call for strength and verve. She'd be a fantastic Cat, and - dare I dream it - an even better Lady Stoneheart.

#2 Jack Nicholson as Theon Greyjoy

Now this would be fun. If baby Jack Nicholson had half the presence and charisma he would show in later movies, his Theon would be legendary.

#1 Coleen Gray as Cersei Lannister

If I can get Tumblr to understand one thing, it's how much Coleen Gray would absolutely eat in the role of Cersei. She's beautiful. She's a schemer. She's a helpless victim. She's back for revenge. I challenge anyone to watch her insane, murderous, fierce, gorgeous, duplicitous performance in 1960's otherwise pretty terrible The Leech Woman and not come to the same conclusion. I'm serious. There would be no survivors. 👑

[friendcorp]

FriendCorp Session 3: Sympathy for the Clerks, the Black Forest Blues

Our Session starts on Day 17 where I learn quickly that Tori should absolutely under no circumstances work with The Lady Facing The Wall, as every time she does it results in panic, now the only saving grace here is that she's very easy to calm down. Literally so much so that I couldn't even get a good gif of it because she calms down so quickly.

Info team has a good stock of white damage type weapons which makes it relatively safe to handle this sort of thing.

I was able to send a few of our new Training Team nuggets to work with All Around Helper, and Snow Queen; the two new Training Team abnormalities. Which to my surprise went quite well since I didn't expect new hires to be able to handle HE level abnos very easily, especially considering I hadn't given them any EGO on their first day.

Since we have managed to only take a total of 2 Zayin abnormalities (one of which is mandatory) our energy outputs are high enough that we don't even need to worry about Noon Ordeals yet

However I will gladly use the remaining time before Noon to get some more training in for our newer nuggets. I will also take this time to continue throwing Epsilon into Temperance training so I can trust them working with higher class abnormalities and still having good success rates to ensure their survival.

I don't know if anyone is curious about the nugget's regular abnormalities they work with but to give a quick rundown. Dia works primarily with Snow Queen after an incident with Bella lead to a reset since the resulting panic actually ended Dia's life. I instead sent Bella to work with Old Lady as to work on Temperance a bit, higher success rate = less damage = less panic. Marx and Foosball both work with all Around Helper as they seem to be the two it reacts best to. Rain became the resident Funeral handler not only being given the full ego set but included in said set was the coffin. Funeral has never escaped when working with Rain, the two seem to be friends. Geminiano is currently handling 1.76 Mhz as the resulting Justice will be helpful down the line, and Kanna has been working with One Sin as for whatever reason Kanna has yet to not produce full power output when working with them. Julian moved from working with Fragment to working with Red Shoes as that used to be Marx's old station and it's one of the better power outputs for our facility currently. Which left Fragment without an assigned agent, Tori needs work on her Temperance stat so I assigned her to the task. Yuri seems to be the only one who can handle The Lady Facing The Wall without panicking or triggering the scream, so I've kept him in charge of dealing with her when needed. Archer meanwhile manages the Cherry Blossom, not only is Archer able to handle full repression work without as much as breaking a sweat, but the tree has decided it likes Archer enough to also produce a great energy output when we actually want good work results. Merry typically juggles working with 1.76 MHz and working with Fairy Festival. Reinhardt is our Fairy Festival and Fragment handler at the moment. Maki keeps trying to work with All Around Helper but it typically doesn't go well, it hasn't breached yet but Maki just can't seem to get a decent work result with it, other abnos include One Sin and Old Lady. I refuse to send Epsilon to deal with any "big boy" abnormalities just yet given their lower stats, and lack of protection; the 1.5 weakness to dark rules out a lot of potentially good options but thankfully between the heart and flesh book they can survive work with Fragment and Old Lady both of which are great for early game Temperance training, when they're not doing that I have them cycle between Fairy Festival for HP and 1.76 MHz for Attack Speed, I will have Epsilon solo a Doubt by the end of this playthrough. The other's don't have regular abnormalities they work with just yet as there's unfortunately a disproportionate amount of Agents to Abnos.

In the final few work orders of the day the fact Tori should not work with Lady Facing the Wall is cemented by YET ANOTHER PANIC

At this point I feel like the poor Info team is constantly just texting her like

You probably think I'm playing this up for content but uh...

THOSE ARE ALL TORI.

So anyways we clear Day 17 without any deaths somehow lol

At this point the game decides we have it a little TOO easy so our options are:

and of course we're taking Big Bird because I VALUE MY SANITY.

Day 18 is the first day in a while where I enter a flow state of knowing exactly what everyone's capable of and knowing exactly what everyone needs to do, we're absolutely crushing it, the facility is running smooth as butter everyone has a job and they can handle it flawlessly, it's like watching a little ant farm go to work but I wasn't prepared for the dawn ordeal... I had forgot something very important.

It was happening, the rematch of the century except this time Epsilon was far more prepared, they had spent days training to boost their HP and SP this was their moment:

And yet again they manage to somehow upgrade their EGO with the power of friendship!

I let this battle go on for a good while before something happens, something I wasn't prepared for. See, while we were fighting off the Ordeal the Ordeal was also killing Clerks... a lot of Clerks. Which made something very unhappy. As power to the Training Department flickered and shut off, the sporadic squeals of a bird could be heard.

As we clear out the remaining Ordeal we launch a suppression effort

Unfortunately our damage output is not quite there yet, and our nuggets are taking much more damage than Big Bird. I knew in this moment I'd have to cut my losses and focus the effort on finishing the day while avoiding this new threat.

I threw everyone into the Safety Department main room and sent everyone out to work as quickly as possible. It feels fitting that Dia hit level 5 on the day they lead the suppression effort to try to save the facility. We end the day taking a penalty of -5 Lob Points but with all 20 of our nuggets still alive, I'm genuinely proud of every member of the team here, even Epsilon fought alongside the squad and not one of them panicked or died. FriendCorp might need to change it's name to ChadCorp after this. We'll be back for Big Bird later, since Hod wants us to suppress abnormalities now...

but in the meantime it was time to pick an abnormality and this time I left things up to the Discord Server (https://discord.gg/GcrUKnvz7v) which admittedly wasn't too exciting this time around since it was a tool type abnormality but there will be plenty of chances to force me into taking something horrible in the future lol.

At first it was relatively tame, with votes coming in and people discussing it... but everything changed when the Central Command Department attacked.

and with a unanimous and overwhelming vote we took O-09-91.

This however didn't upset the balance that was our fine tuned and impeccable facility, to manage a deathless run all the way to day 50 I'm getting to know the strengths and weaknesses of every single agent, to understand when and how to work with every abnormality, to better perfect their placement and how I can best manage this facility.

It's a beautiful sight to behold (if you ignore the little play icon in the upper right yes I'm grabbing these gifs from my recordings of the sessions lol), such a facility running like clockwork. We hit half our quota before even facing our Dawn Ordeal, and day 19 is finished without a hitch. I decided to check in on the Discord after day 19 just to see how things were going since you know we were about to open central command and uh...

Yea that's about what I expected honestly...

With only one more day standing between us and Central Command I wasn't holding anything back.

All hands on deck, time to speed through the day.

Green Dawn befalls us yet again, but learning from our mistakes we send each department to take care of their own robot; it's a mad dash to kill them before they kill our Clerks, no chance we're letting that bird out again.

Everything we've learned, everyone's efforts coming together made this day so eas-

Excuse me?

LUNAS NO YOU GO BACK TO YOUR DEPARTMENT AND KEEP YOUR FORBIDDEN SHOE DESIRES TO YOURSELF!

As I was saying, thanks to everyone's efforts and everything we've learned this day was-

OH DEAR GOD WHY THIS!? IT'S OKAY EVERYONE JUST FOCUS ON WORK IT'LL BE OKAY!

HEY SAFETY TEAM WHY NOT GO FOR A WALK!? HEY TORI DO NOT LOOK BACK JUST KEEP MOVING PLEASE JUST KEEP GOING FRAGMENT WILL KEEP YOU SAFE!

OH GOD WE STILL NEED LIKE 80 MORE ENERGY.

Oh that was easy... well then don't I look silly. I mean I totally had that under control lol ahem... thank god no one died.

we advance onto day 21 picking up Spider Bud and Bloodbath two relatively easy abnormalities to handle, so the new hires down at Central Command shouldn't have any issues with them. Speaking of Central Command we should-

on second thought let's not check in on Central Command, they're probably fine. I hope you're all prepared for Session 4 because I can tell you right now Central Command is going to go feral over it.

As always, I grabbed some bonus blorbo pictures for you all!

and unfortunately that fills the 30 image limit that Tumblr will let me put here, but bonus images, blorbo interactions, and of course the voting polls can always be found over on the discord if that's something you're interested in. If you're not interested in that sort of thing, don't worry; I see you and I respect you and you can ALWAYS expect the same quality of content I've been providing for you right here on tumblr.

-Cryptid

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Jack's Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: Pricolici (though I'm taking some liberties as there isn't a lot of information that I can find about them. Basically hybrid between a vampire and a werewolf).

Word Count: 1.58K Relationships Mentioned: Jack's little siblings, Jack's parents, random Human Child TW: Death of parents/"animal", child death (unrelated human), suffocation, implied that child was going to be eaten, tree wells, avalanche, survivor's guilt and uhhh Pricolici's seem to have two main forms and the majority of this is written like they're wolves. --------------------------------------------------------

Winter made food scarce. While instinct would have it that they should attack humans, logic dominated while hunger was ignored in favour of staying alive for as long as possible. It was less than ideal, but the humans had been getting more violent. More defensive. The guns and traps and weapons just weren't worth the risk, and the feeling at the back of their minds nagging at them to simply go on a feeding frenzy was far too strong to stay where they were. Their journey to the monster realm would have to be postponed, at least until winter was over, to make it there safely. At the time, moving higher up the mountain range made sense to keep as many humans safe as possible. The pups needed some support making it, and Jack was more than happy to let them both piggyback on him and try to make the trip as fun as he could, even though he could hear their tiny tummies rumbling for food. After the second day or so, he was starting to notice his own hunger as well, but it was nothing in compared to how fatigued his mother seemed to be. It only took a few moments of silent deliberation between Jack and his father before they made his mother lay down gently. With some convincing from his father, his little siblings hopped off his back and snuggled in close with their mother. After ensuring they would be safe, and a few head bumps and snuggles, he and his father set off at a faster pace, searching for any sign of food nearby. For a moment, he felt a twinge of frustration at his parents. If they had given his siblings more coaching, more practice, they could all be living as humans, even just for the evenings, to get food in a human village, in one of the warm, delicious smelling homes. Then there would be no need for a frenzy, and no need for them to hide away. But he knew realistically, his siblings were too young, and even he had troubles transforming and holding it for long. Both his and his father's attention was piqued at the sound of of what he believed to be rabbit nearby. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to get his mother back on her feet at least long enough to get to a safer location. However, as his father hunched down to start hunting, he felt his attention waning, his ear flicking as he thought he heard something in the distance, soft and almost sad sound. After a small nod from his father, he left to investigate it. It didn't take him long before he could smell a human. It also didn't take much to realize, that the whimpering he could hear was also from a human. He could feel himself salivating at the idea of a meal, one that nobody would miss, apparently. He cautiously made his way to where he heard the whimpering, head on a swivel to make sure no other humans were around as he approached the base of a tree, snow piled rather high around it. He could hear the little human inside whimpering pathetically, wheezing and its heartbeat thumping in fear as it felt itself dying. If it was nearly dead anyways, there was no reason to extend it's misery before he could eat it and feed his family. Without getting too close to the tree well, he began to dig, quickly but not so much as to exhaust himself. He could hear the little human- the child? Sob more, perhaps in relief and in a false sense of security of being found. It wasn't until he came face to face with it that he realized his mistake. The child was small, innocent, and was not someone he was meant to terrify or consume. However it didn't matter. As the child laid eyes to the massive white wolf in front of it, it started to breathe heavily, tears streaming down its face before letting out and ear piercing shriek. He couldn't help but cower at the noise, and hesitate, eyeing the child carefully. For a moment, everything seemed silent. And then the rumble from somewhere up the mountain gave a telltale sign that snow was on it's way.

He growled immediately, taking off to run back to his father and leaving the child where it was. despite it wailing after him. His own family was all that mattered now. He had failed twice in a matter of seconds, to adhere to the expectations he had for himself, from his parents. The least he could do now was try to get them to safety. There was a cave he and his father had seen, that initially was going to be to hole up in for the night, but would hopefully be enough to get them above, or to hide from the incoming avalanche, the roar getting ever louder. He couldn't find his father where he had left him, panicking and listening for him for a moment before heading towards his mother and siblings in hopes he could see him there. He found his mother staggering on her feet as his siblings pressed in close to her. The unspoken question hung between him and his mom for a moment before he snapped out of his stupor, picking up his siblings onto his back and trying to support his mother, urging her to at least get behind something solid. His father seemed to come out from nowhere, coming to support his mother on the other side, rabbit securely in his jaws as he nodded Jack in the direction of the cave. He hesitated, but the frightened whimpers of his brother and sister convinced him to go and climb on top of the cave, moving them off his back and squishing them gently underneath him as he dug his claws into the rock in an attempt to secure himself and keep his siblings out of the brunt of the snow. It was deafening, the sound of the avalanche heading straight for them. Jack was glad he had his siblings where they were. They didn't have to see what he saw next. The cave was high enough that most of the snow that came into contact with them was powder, some debris flying out over them. Jack kept his head low, and tried not to let his siblings hear him cry as he watched their parents get buried under the snow. After a minute or so, the snow began to settle around them, making the top of the cave seem like nothing more than a boulder in comparison. Jack checked them both over quickly and gently. As soon as he was satisfied with their health - shaken up, but otherwise alright, he directed them to start digging the mouth of the cave out. He knew they wouldn't get anywhere with it, but it gave them an activity to do as he headed down the slope slightly, keeping them in sight as he tried to locate his parents. His nose gave away their location fairly quickly, but he felt a gnawing ache in his stomach as he couldn't hear them asking for help, or even so much as telling him where they were. Once he picked up where his father's scent was strongest, he started to dig furiously, only getting faster as the scent only became more apparent. He hated the whimpers that threatened to spill from him, the whines, everything he wanted to do but couldn't afford to call attention to himself. He was starting to get excited until he saw pink snow. He slowed down, digging much slower and watching in morbid fascination as the snow went from pink, to red to scarlet under his claws, until he was staring directly at half of his mother's face, and the fragments of what left of his fathers. He took a moment to process what he was seeing, glanced at his siblings, then back at their parents. He very hesitantly, leaned in and bumped his head gently against them both as tears began to run down his fur. He gently pushed snow back into place as the reality of the situation set in. ------------------------------------------ That was about all he could remember from last winter. The next days, weeks, months were a blur. He somewhat remembered breaking the news gently to his siblings that they were going to go to the monster realm by themselves, but not much else.

He looked back down at his brother and sister now, as they snuggled into his pelt. They certainly didn't seem to blame him for the loss of their parents.. And maybe that was enough. He huffed softly to himself before giving them both a small lick on the head. When they woke up they could get moving again. But for now, he simply wanted to enjoy hearing their little heartbeats, a reminder that he's at the very least, doing his job ------------------------------------------------------

A/N: wough if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!

[chernabogs]

Winter Watch

Lilia and Baul share a brief moment during a winter's watch (slight disclaimer: Baul is the name of Sebek's grandfather, as revealed in-game! I'm running off the concept that they served together.)

The air is stagnant, despite the snow that continues to fall from the sky above. It’s in the space between the peace that silence brings and the unease of what’s to come that he finds himself, sitting on the edge of a rock and watching the treeline ahead. The scent of smoke travels from the campsite behind him as the rest of his unit continues to revel in their well-deserved rest. Yesterday had consisted of trekking through knee-high snow for hours on end, pausing at every little sound and doing their best to navigate through the tangled woods, which served as a makeshift shelter against both the weather and potential hostiles. 

His body aches, and yet he finds himself unable to rest. A nervous twitch causes his hand to periodically move as he continues to watch on. Occasionally, the snowflakes make it seem as though there are bodies moving between the trees, and it takes him more than a second to stop from unsheathing his weapon and launching himself forward. Snow, cold, and paranoia. It’s starting to become his makeshift trinity at this rate.  

“Your watch ended hours ago.” A familiar rumbling voice causes him to tilt his head, although he doesn’t break his gaze from that treeline, as the sound of boots in the snow approaches. “Failing to wake me gives the impression that I am not good enough to take over.”

“Nonsense,” he counters, finally looking over to the man that’s come to rest at his side. With electric green hair and a scowl that could freeze a hell hound in its tracks, Baul is a man that many would be intimidated to stand before. 

But not Lilia. After years of serving by his side, he’d seen the otherwise stoic man cut loose enough times to know that the stern demeanour he carries himself with is exactly that—a mere demeanour. 

“You of all people should also know the consequences of exhaustion.” Baul’s gaze travels from Lilia and out towards the treeline, where his eyes narrow into a look that could be mistaken for both disgust and frustration. “We have many more nights like this ahead of us.” 

“If this is your attempt at comfort, it’s poorly performed.” Lilia already knows that the smirk present on his lips does not travel to his eyes. Despite his rebuke against Baul’s comment, the dark circles beginning to form and the twitching in his hand that fails to cease are all silent indicators of the truth it carries. “And I’m sure it would only further damage our soldier’s morale.” 

“It’s this cold that’s damaging it, not us.” Baul slumps down on the rock next to him, and when he exhales, his breath takes the form of mist that travels to the skies. “Briar Valley is no stranger to bitter winters, but this has by far been the worst yet.”

Baul had immigrated to the Valley from Sunset Savannah, which is a complete 180 in terms of climate and culture. When he had first joined the Queens Guard, his way of doing things had led to several reprimands from the higher-ups and more than one fight behind the barracks, forcing him to almost get kicked out that first winter. Many had considered his promotion to the role of General something of a miracle—but Lilia, who was one of the few to witness the true grit and determination that Baul possessed, knew otherwise. It was nothing abnormal for him to be worrying about the well-being of his men. 

“We only have a few more days of travel, and then we’ll be meeting up with the other unit in this area. They should have warmer tents and more supplies than what we’re operating on.” Lilia glances at his peer, feeling briefly amused at the way the snow is gradually accumulating on his head before that amusement fades as he looks away again. “Remember, we aren’t the only ones enduring this.”

“Saying such things to the wrong person will get you in trouble, you know. One may accuse you of sympathizing with the enemy.” Baul brushes the snow off as he rises back to his feet. Lilia observes this with somewhat of an indifference. “We’ve already seen how capable they are. They’ve soiled the grounds with more Fae blood then what we assumed possible. I have no doubt they’ll be able to survive this winter’s chill.” 

Baul speaks of death so clinically, and it’s something that surprises Lilia, who curses himself for still struggling to detach entirely from such acts. He can perform his duty and execute the orders that his Queen commands, but at night when there are no longer soldiers to speak to or ale to drink, the only companion is his own thoughts. 

The first time he saw a corpse was when he was younger—an elderly Fae passing, something both unusual and fascinating. The way the magic simply drains, and the body shrivels into such a weakened state is a harrowing reminder of the inevitability of an end to all.  

The first time he created a corpse, however, was by order of the Queen Mother. When one imagines killing, they often fail to elaborate on how death by a sword is drawn out; the murmured prayers, the way they hold your gaze as you raise the blade, and how it never breaks as their blood falls onto the soil below, each breath drawing out into a watering gurgle until it stops entirely—and then, like that elderly Fae, you are soon left with nothing more than a husk of a being. Veteran soldiers say that you become dissociated from the killing once you do it enough—and yet now, years upon years after that execution, he still remembers the gaze of every life he cut short. 

He doesn’t want to end the watch. He doesn’t want to relive each moment again, to experience that loop of punishment that seems to create an endless night.  

His thoughts are broken by the feeling of Baul resting a hand on his shoulder, and when Lilia glances at him again, he sees the familiar expression of understanding in his gaze. It’s another trait of his companion that Lilia appreciates—the ability to know without saying a word. “Fine then. If you insist on being stubborn, then we can both sit out here and freeze together like a pair of miserable hens until the sun comes up. Then we’ll see what everyone has to say about that come morning.” 

Lilia’s smirk turns to one of a more genuine nature as he pats the spot on his rock again. “Do you really think they’ll have the nerve to comment on it?”

Baul raises an eyebrow before settling back down. “If they do, then we’ll know which of them to put on the front lines next.”

[cryinpocalypse]

your post was a lie. it was a bit of a nightmare. sure, everything is normal now.. but there's something new in the city, thanks to the snow, and you both think it's likely best for you to relocate. which sucks because you had basically everything you needed here.

fuck.

it's fine!!! it's fine. you two had dug your way through the snow, managed to find the buildings where you'd had food growing. inside, where it was all.. mostly fine! a little chilly, being buried under more than a dozen feet of snow, but hey. it's fine! or was.

until you woke one morning to find that, amid the tunnels were scratches made by claws that did not resemble the gloved hands of either you nor your new boyfriend, nor the cat who came along sometimes. and the gradual melting of the door to your building from the outside. whatever can slowly melt through a steel door that's buried in snow, you don't think you want to meet.

and then it was a bit more melted the next morning. enough that there's a quarter-sized hole in it. the two of you patched it with scrap metal as best as you could, but then, after a brief discussion, began the process of packing everything you could.

you couldn't leave immediately, of course, with the snow making it relatively impossible for either of you to wedge through the tunnels with all your stuff, so you also collected more scrap metal and anything that seemed sturdy enough.

tomorrow's the day, though. the sun's been out, the snow was only about knee high on you, and the tunnels and paths you and the things outside made all helped it melt in ways that should make it difficult to follow your tracks as you leave. you sigh, looking at all the posts you'd missed on this.. somehow still active website, and slump back against your company.

it's gonna be a long day tomorrow, you say. he nods. at least it won't be a solitary journey. he's right. but you groan anyway. you like it here. you've spent a long time here, making it feel like home. he understands, but you both know you can't keep patching the door up forever.

tomorrow you leave the city. or at least this area. maybe you'll find a building that runs higher somewhere else in the city. you have seeds, and he'll be able to find his way back here. maybe you could find someplace higher, plant everything you need. bring over things from here. hell, maybe you could start an indoor farm some floors below you. you express all this, and he laughs, not unkindly, at your sudden enthusiasm. you smile.

wherever you end up, at least you won't be alone.

start here!

[fatimajpeg]

can you rank all these disney villians from most to least camp. with one sentence for each on why.

chronological list copied from wikipedia

Evil Queen(Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

Chernabog (Fantasia)

Queen of Hearts (Alice in Wonderland)

Captain Hook (Peter Pan)

Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty)

Cruella de Vil(101 Dalmatians)

Ursula (The Little Mermaid)

Jafar (Aladdin)

Scar (The Lion King)

Hades (Hercules)

Dr. Facilier (The Princess and the Frog)

1 - Ursula

She gets top spot cuz she’s based on the drag queen Divine. All the other disney villains are queercoded yeah but it’s the most explicit with her imo. Little Mermaid in general is such a sweet film that had a lot of queer people work on it (Howard Ashman <3) and they definitely camped Ursula up on purpose.

2 - Cruella De Vil

I mean her whole concept is so camp. An evil rich lady who wants to skin puppies for their fur. That’s so over the top and delightfully evil. Her look is stunning as well. Cruella was also based on another Camp Icon, Tallulah Bankhead. Old hollywood in general is considered camp now but Tallulah was camp even back then.

(imo both Ursula and Cruella are the campiest because they take what society deems abhorrent like self-centred independent women and just take it up to 100 on the cartoonishly evil scale)

3 - Captain Hook

Guy’s got beef with a 12 year old lol. He’s also over the top evil and the audience laughs at him instead of being scared for the most part. He’s a silly pirate and overall pretty campy.

4 - Jafar

While i do have my issues with Jafar, he’s pretty Campy. He’s practically a caricature of a greedy man and has a lot of fun being evil. He’s very camped up.

5 - Chernabog

Wow literally a perfect camp villain. Even though his appearances are very theatrical and over the top, there’s still an imposing and scary quality to it all. Very horror-esque camp i love it <3

6 - Maleficent

A classic over the top evil Disney villain but wow she’s so graceful! Nothing about her is comedic imo but she does the maligned witch thing so good. An evil woman doing evil things, that’s camp!

7 - Queen of Hearts

Alice in Wonderland is just plain weird and nonsensical (this is a good thing) so in theory she should be up way higher but idk i feel like the others have a better camp legacy. She’s an over the top homocidal queen like ofc that’s campy. Idk i feel like everyone after the first 2 can be interchanged.

8 - Evil Queen

she’s the first to do it! But maybe it’s cuz she was first she wasn’t as camp as the others. But even though she’s low on the list doesn’t mean she’s not camp! She’s been a camp icon for yearsssss.

9 - Scar

Scar’s probably the 2nd most queercoded villain after Ursula. And while “be prepared” was deliciously evil and campy, i don’t think any of his actions later on were enjoyable to the audience. He’s definitely a camped up Shakespeare antagonist but idk if he should be placed higher.

10- Dr. Facilier

Smooth talking witch doctor (with a great look). He’s the best classic Disney Villain we’ve seen over the past 30 years. but his overall campiness? hmm i’m not so sure it’s that high

11 - Hades

I feel so bad for placing Hades last because he’s one of my personal faves but again, comparing to the others, is he really that camp? Ik you might think he can take the Evil Queen or Maleficent’s spot but those two have such a rich legacy that Hades hasn’t had. He’s goofy and has tons of fun, but sometimes you can feel him winking at the audience. Ursula does that better and with more extravagance so 🤷🏻‍♀️

[ungojirasapiente]

Colder Days (Mogeko March 2023 Day 10)

Rocma was used to death, it was a part of life, after all, everyone someday has to kick the bucket, she knew that, really well, she was a predator after all, bringing death to her prey was the entire purpose of her life, eat or be eaten, the unbreakable law of nature, the weak succumb and the strong prevail, she believed completely in that rule, her entire philosophy of life orbited around that belief, that’s why she was so disgusted by Shirogane and Yukisada, the mere concept of somebody else helping somebody as weak and pathetic as that wolf was something completely unimaginable to her, she didn’t make exceptions to that rule, not even for her own family, when she had to kill her own brother to prove her superiority, she did it without hesitation, without regret, her brother was weaker and she was stronger, therefore she survived and he didn’t, easy as that… then why?... why was she feeling like this?

It all started with a small cough, Rocma heard Mafuyu cough a bit, not that strange, while seals could withstand the cold quite easily, being artic animals that spent almost the entire part of their life on the freezing waters, Mafuyu was barely a pup, so it wasn’t that strange for her to get a cold or a small flu, specially in the harsher winter months, but then, her coughing became more frequent, hoarser, like it came straight from her lungs, rather than just her throat, it started to affect her life, the poor kid couldn’t go a few seconds without emitting a loud, harsh cough from her little mouth, of course, being her mother, Rocma took the little seal to Yukisada, the only doctor in the island, the snowy owl did a check up on the young seal, he said that it was probably a small infection in her lungs, nothing to worry about, Mafuyu just needed to rest for a week or two, have some medicine, and by the end of those weeks, she would have been completely cured… what a big lie that was…

Rocma remembered seeing the little seal lying in bed, saddened by the fact she couldn’t play in the snow with Peraco and her siblings, the polar bear would pat the little seal in her head, telling her that soon she’ll be able to play all day long again, then she would give her daughter her medicine and let the small seal sleep, the first week passed, but things didn’t get better, the poor seal developed a fever, a high one, the few times the little seal left the bed, she could barely stand from how weak she was, not helped by the fact that her cough just kept getting worse, her fever getting higher, by that time, the poor seal was completely bed ridden, doing nothing but lay down, cough her poor lungs out and sleep, and everytime she coughed, thick phlegm would come out, Rocma didn’t like to admit it, she liked to put a cold and serious front, but she was scared, but why?... why would somebody that believes wholeheartedly in the laws of nature be so worried, after all, the weak…

Rocma remembers that day , even the exact time, 16:30, she had to go hunting, although Mafuyu didn’t exactly have an apetite, what with her condition and all, she still needed to feed herself, but the poor seal wasn’t giving up, “I’m going to get better mommy, I’m going to be strong, like you!” the little seal weakly, between coughs, but with a palpable determination, fueled by the sorts of dreams only a child could have, this made Rocma smile, genuinely smile, one of the few people who ever saw her smile, pride in someone else also wasn’t something Rocma felt often, but she was so proud of her little seal. Before leaving, she had told Yukisada to take care of Mafuyu, since he was the doctor it should have been easy for him to help the young seal with her affliction, when she went out, she noticed that Shirogane had walked into the orca danger zone again, and gotten attacked by Idate, again, Rocma fought the orca, it was quite the battle, this time Rocma had the upper hand, she clawed at the cetacean, causing him some pretty serious injuries, while the Orca barely left a few bruises, realizing the severity of the situation, Idate left, not before sending some lewd remarks to the polar bear, how disgusting… Rocma then confronted the wolf, a being as pathetic as him didn’t deserve to live, if he couldn’t survive on his own, then it was better for him to just die, to stop being a waste of air, pretty harsh words, especially since she was tired and angered by the fight with the orca, but still, she believed her words to be true, she was just reciting what the world had taught her, that the weak perish and the strong prevail…

She finally arrived home, Yukisada was standing in the front door, his head hung down, looking at the floor, Rocma stepped closer, wondering why the owl was outside when he was supposed to take care of her daughter, Yukisada looked eye-to-eye at the polar bear, his face had a sad, mournful expression, almost as if his whole heart had shattered, this already made Rocma slightly unnerved, Yukisada was usually a happy-go-lucky sort of person, someone kind that always tried to give a smile, even when things seemed to be at their worse, personally, she found that trait more annoying than endearing, nobody could be happy all the time, it had to be just a façade, but still, seeing his face made the polar bear worry, then the owl spoke…

“Mafuyu… Mafuyu has passed … her lungs where filled with fluid and… I tried to do everything I could but… I’m sorry… I’m… sorry” the owl choked up, barely managing to contain his tears.

Rocma simply remained silent for a solid minute, no words, not a single emotion on her face, she just stepped inside, going to her daughters room, there she was, laying in bed, her little eyes closed, as if asleep, like she could just jump out of her bed at any second and go hug her mother, and she would reciprocate, the two sharing a two sharing a moment, a bond only a parent with their child could have, a happy feeling Rocma loved to feel, the only moment she’ll let her guard down and let somebody else approach her this closely, the only person Rocma really cared about… and she was gone…

Rocma remembered hugging the body of her daughter, no longer a person, a living being, just… an object, a corpse, then she started crying, she could feel the warm tears falling out of her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, she truly was crying, it hurt, it really hurt, not like being punched or injured during hunting or in a fight, it was a different type of pain, much deeper inside, much more painful, it wasn’t even in just a single part of her body, she felt it everywhere, down to her very core, down to her soul, she hugged the body tightly, she wanted Mafuyu to wake up, for her daughter to open her eyes and hug her again, to feel that love only a child could give, the love for their parent, but there was no response, the body just stayed there, between what was once its mother, limp, cold… dead…

Rocma screamed, out of sorrow, out of misery, out of the single greatest pain a parent could go through, a pain so great that even Rocma, probably the strongest person in the iceberg, and cold and hard as it was, couldn’t escape it… but it was the rules of nature, wasn’t it? The weak perish, the strong survive, but this time, for the very first time in her life, in her years of surviving, through the toughest winters, through the harshest blizzards, through the injuries, the sickness, the broken limbs, through every pain she went through, for the first time in her entire life, she wished she wasn’t strong, she wished she could die right there, just drop dead, away from the pain, from the misery, and forever with Mafuyu, she wished that had happened, but of course, the weak succumb, the strong survive, that’s how the world worked…

Rocma was alone, again, it wasn’t like she was used to being alone, her species where solitary animals, but, it still hurt, she wasn’t used to it, not anymore, she always hunted extra food, expecting to feed another mouth other than hers, expecting to find snowmen or some other weird structure made with snow in the path to her house, entering her home and expecting to step on littered toys, to trip on a yarn ball, to find scattered papers filled with crude drawings made with crayon, only to find the floor completely clean, as she had left it before leaving, expecting to hear the sound of her daughter, running out of her room, ecstatic that she had returned, expecting the adorable sound of her laughter, expecting the warmest of hugs from the little seal, expecting the cold day to be warmed, even if barely, but nothing of the sort came, of course, there wasn’t anyone there to do those things, not anymore, making those cold days, even colder…

---

well... this was pretty fucking sad, wasn't it :D nothing better than causing pain to my favourite characters, isn't it wonderful! also, sorry if there were any errors or if it isn't as good as other stuff i've written, i kinda rushed this one out, hope you guys still enjoyed it.

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 20: Mist Pt.1

Lincoln/Octavia but also Gen, Canon-Divergent, ~930 words

So I accidentally had a Whole Ass Fic Idea for this and then I just wrote part of it. Hopefully will continue but no promises about that.

*

In November, a heavy fog settles over the Dropship camp, and with it, a deep unease. Visibility even around the tents is nearly zero. The ship itself looms up out of dense gray mists, seems to float above them amid the deep green of the trees, half-disappears at time against a wretched sky deeply smudged with clouds. There's been only one attack since the Grounder assault and the ring of fire, and it was of Reapers who came in through the tunnels. Ruthless but dumb, they were easily repulsed. Since then, only silence from all sides.

Octavia packs a bag with some extra food and water and insists on joining Wells and Clarke as they hike up to a higher elevation, a desperate last bid to get a lay of the land. Usually, they'd fight her on it, or at least her brother would, but either they understand her restlessness or know that any arguments would be a waste of breath. All Bellamy does is slip her a gun, even though she's already carrying her sword on her back and even now she barely knows how to shoot.

Since Lincoln left on his scouting mission, nearly a week ago now and not a single word or signal since, she's been pacing around the camp like a caged-up beast. He was supposed to call on one of the other clans. Trikru would kill him on sight but he'd made friends in some of the others, not too far off, and with their sentries nearly useless and the tension in camp at a painful high, he'd declared the mission worth the risk. And so what if she hadn't agreed. For news about the Mountain, he'd insisted. The quiet from that sector made him more nervous than she could understand.

Wells leads the way between the trees and through the underbrush, tracking their direction by playing his fingertips against moss-covered bark, leaving subtle signs by which they can find their way back home. Clarke follows, and Octavia trails behind. Sometimes she all but loses sight of the others—it doesn't take much, with the mist settled so close around her, its chill touch clammy against her skin. All around them, they hear the faint patter of raindrops slipping down from leaf to leaf. For days now, following along with the fog, the weather has been not quite rainy, far from clear: precipitation lingers in the air, threatening a downpour that might clear away the fog, but never comes. Each stray drop feels like ice, frigid and bitter.

If the temperature drops even a few degrees, Wells reminds them, the rainstorm they're expecting will turn into heavy snow. Even Wells himself can only imagine what a heavy snow would really mean.

 They talk little during their hike, only the bare minimum of directions, alerts, but Octavia can hear the others breathing almost as well as she can hear her own heavy breath in her ears. The ground becomes steeper and steeper. The muscles of her legs burn; she starts to sweat despite the cold.

 Finally, they reach the peak, and Clarke doubles over to catch her breath, as she stands next to Wells and Octavia runs the last few paces to stand on her other side. From here, they can see miles and miles of forest. Hints of smoke, rising in columns through the mist, seem to indicate settlements. Rough patterns of evergreens stretch out along the valley. The fog itself resembles a vast ocean—or what Octavia imagines an ocean to be.

"Well, this was a bust," she announces, and wipes a sheen of cooling sweat from her brow.

Not that she should complain. She just wanted to get out, needed to get out.

"Maybe it's good that there's nothing to see," Wells answers, with tentative optimism.

Clarke shakes her head. She's standing up straight again now, and her face looks pale, except for the dark spots of her color at her cheeks. "You could hide a whole army in fog like that."

"The Mountain doesn't have a whole army. If they did, they would have used it against the Grounders by now."

"We don't know what the Mountain has, that's the whole—"

"Shut up." Octavia holds up her hand, and Wells and Clarke become immediately silent. Beneath their bickering, she heard something, something like the snapping of twigs and the clacking of bare branches and the rustling of fallen leaves. Something so subtle it sounded like maybe nothing at all. But the fog has brought silence, too, so that any break in the muffled quiet of it catches her attention, and one of Lincoln's lessons to her was how to really hear.

"What is—?" Wells starts, and Octavia hushes him again. She still hasn't put down her hand. She hasn't moved at all, because the sounds are getting louder, closer. And in another moment, Clarke and Wells hear them, too.

Octavia takes a tentative step closer to the tree line. Clarke reaches out to draw her back, but misses, and Octavia notices the movement only with a very distant, very faint part of her brain. The fatigue in her body has turned to tense anticipation: a taut bowstring, an arrow ready to be shot.

The movement is of a body, a human-sized body, shuffling, dragging itself painfully along. She holds her breath—and then releases it, all at once, with something like a sob, as a familiar shape limps out of the shadows and materializes through the clinging gray. The tension in her breaks all at once and she runs right into Lincoln's arms.

[commaclear]

update on the ski situation: its not fucking working, they're haunting me. every sentence I read replaces tntduo with them. I feel like im reading fanfiction about THEM.

this is shit

first I get thrown 10 meters away from my skis, get dragged BY MY LEGS on the t-lift with my friend because we were on separate ones and I had the brilliant idea of her letting go and latching on to my one (IT DID NOT WORK) so we skiddatled off the lift path before we took out anyone else out ending up in meter high snow. we saw our nerdy ski obsessed friend he got off the lift to "help" us proceding to ski back down the pro path we were next too super easily.

I wanted to attack some rando and steal a spot on their lift but my friend said no because that would be a "bad idea" anyways I ended up trying to slalom my way down and got really injured, got down to the lodge through some risky choices and bad ideas.

low and behold the next day I get separated from my group ON THE TOP OF A FUCKING MOUNTIN with winds fast enough to literally knock me over with no sense of direction no idea where I am and it looks like jævela nilfheim.

im freaking the fuck out and muttering "find barney" under my breath (long story). low and behold one of the two chaperones finds me and points me IN THE WRONG DIRECTION, further separating me from the group. then he proceeds to TAKE ME TO THE OTHER, MUCH HIGHER MOUNTINTOP while mind you I am injured and just want to go back to the lodge and strangle my friends, maybe eat my paprika chips sadly. but nooooo we gotta go another round.

on the car ride away the other chaperone starts playing old rock music and talking about the concerts he went to and the music was pretty nice but he gave me a shit grade so I still hate the guy /j

-ÆÆ

ps. i can stick 5-7cm centimetres of a butter knife up my nostril

Did you have any fun tho?

Also if you hurt yourself skiing, then you should alternate hot and cold compresses and get lots of bed rest and coco

And that's a very creative way to get a nosebleed