#but ART BOOKS?? ill take those please

[piecesofchess]

Rly hoping I have some time this month to finally participate in the Extra Credits program cause i am VERY interested in the rewards for this month

[decodedlvr]

18+

“Oh.. hell yea baby bounce on it”

You and Steve have been together for 5 months now. Met in college, specifically art class, he was forced to take an elective, anything for him to graduate. That’s when he saw you in the middle of the room.. naked. Well kinda, there was a long white sheet wrapped around you. Figure drawing was that days subject.

You seemed happy? Not at all flustered having all eyes on you, Steve was a bit intimidated, not only because of how beautiful you looked and all, but everything about you made the whole room glow. And made the bulge in his pants grow.

After class he was the last one out, he wanted to talk to you, little were you aware he was stuck behind in the room; that’s when you dropped the sheet to put your clothes back on. You both screamed in sync and he scrambled out of the door faster than you could’ve blinked.

Later that afternoon, you seen him in the library and came up to him to talk about the book he was reading. He was surprised you didn’t mention the incident, and since then you two hit it off.

He knew you were a virgin, so heavy make out sessions, mutual masturbation and lots of oral was the base of your guys relationship.

You woke up, extremely needy and horny. No vibrator or dildo could sedate your craving other than Steve. He wanted to take his time with you, telling you that you’ll know when the time is right. He made a mistake years ago losing his to quickly so in his terms, he’s doing you a favor. In your terms, he’s torturing you.

You swear he gets off on it.

You’ve been rubbing your pussy up against your hand every five seconds at work, coaxing him through sexy texts and lewd photos. Trying to give him the heads up you’re ready for him to finally fuck you. Or “make love” as he’d exclaim. same shit

He’s usually arrived home by the time you get off of work and today, you were definitely worked; panties have been sticking to your cunt since 10 this morning

“I need you now!” you shout kicking your shoes off and tossing your bag elsewhere, meanwhile, he’s wide-eyed, staring at you with a mouth full of cereal

“Pardon?”

“Steve baby please I love you so much but I need your cock in me right now, I’ve been so horny all day, I mean I can literally smell myself through my own pants right now,” you admit ridding him of the bowl, climbing into his lap, immediately grinding your hips

He scoffs.

“Baby we’ve been through this.. damn, really can smell it huh?” he replies cursing himself, biting his lip, “I thought we were going to wait? you know I want it to be special for you”—

“and it will be, please I promise I’m ready” you pout

The heavy feeling of you has him already babbling.

—“just like that baby, bounce it a little bit — y-yeah that’s it there we go,” he strains bucking, his hips up into yours, cock fully solid

“yeah? like that daddy?”—

“Don’t! Stop that.. fuck, don’t call me that, you know what that does to me”

“what does it do hm?” you lean down to nip his ear, “does it make you wanna fuck my brains out?”

He growls, moving your hips faster “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you doing this to me, fuck! keep bouncin, keep boucin that hot pussy on my dick sweetheart oh— shit”—

“Come on Stevie you know you want it, you’ve been dying to feel my pussy squeeze it, anytime with you will be s-speacial, just.. PLEASE!” you, almost in tears, begging; your thighs are burning the faster and harder you grind

“Ahhh, fuck it, get up!”, he demands angrily and eagerly ripping your pants and soaked panties off—

“Open those fuckin legs, ill make ya feel real special tonight”

reblogs appreciated

[finnlongman]

About Me, My Books, and My Research (2024 Edition)

Hi, I'm Finn, a writer, medievalist, and all-round nerd. You may know me as the author of The Butterfly Assassin, "that person who wrote the trans Cú Chulainn article", the weird nerd in the Tumblr corner writing excessively long and incomprehensibly niche posts about their research, or something else entirely. I am all of those things! (Well, depending on what the 'something else' is, anyway...)

Currently, I'm a PhD student at the University of Cambridge researching friendship in the late Ulster Cycle (c. 12th-17th centuries). I have an MA in Early and Medieval Irish from University College Cork, and wrote my thesis about Láeg mac Ríangabra, my best beloved. I also have an undergrad degree in Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic from Cambridge, and wrote my dissertation about queer readings of Táin Bó Cúailnge, including transmasculine readings of Cú Chulainn.

You can find out more about my research on my website, which also includes info about all of my academic publications. This includes the aforementioned "trans Cú Chulainn article", an article about Láeg in the Death of Cú Chulainn, an article about the seven Maines, and a discussion of a conference on Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire from the perspective of my own work on lament and grief. Whenever possible, I try to make my research available Open Access. If you're ever having trouble finding one of my articles, please contact me!

If you want recommendations for books about medieval Irish (or Welsh) literature, this list on my Bookshop page has all my go-to recommendations. If you buy via this link, I earn a small commission at no extra cost to you, so this is a great way to support me.

I am also an author, and I write both YA and adult novels. Again, my website is the place to go for all the info and links, but a quick summary:

The Butterfly Assassin trilogy (The Butterfly Assassin, 2022; The Hummingbird Killer, 2023; Moth to a Flame, 2024): YA thrillers about a traumatised teenage assassin who is trying (and failing) to live a normal life in a fictional closed city in Yorkshire. Featuring friendship, street art, Esperanto, zero romance, and a whole lot of murder, as well as increasingly unsubtle commentary on the UK arms industry and the military recruitment of vulnerable teenagers.

The Wolf and His King (coming Spring 2025 from Gollancz): a queer retelling of 'Bisclavret' by Marie de France which uses werewolfism as a metaphor to explore chronic pain and illness. Also very much about yearning, exile, and the mortifying ordeal of being known.

The Animals We Became (coming 2026 from Gollancz): a queertrans retelling of the Fourth Branch of the Mabinogi looking at gender, compulsory heterosexuality, and trauma, through the medium of nonconsensual animal transformations.

To Run With The Hound (coming 2027 from Gollancz): my take on the Ulster Cycle, looking at why Táin Bó Cúailnge is a tragedy and what it means to be doomed by the narrative, but not in the way you thought you were. Featuring a lot of feelings about Cú Chulainn, Fer Diad, and Láeg.

You can find out more about my recently-announced medieval retellings in this blog post.

I generally tag personal posts and selfies as “#about the author”; other than that, I think I’m pretty straightforward with my tagging system.

I’m very happy to answer questions about medieval Irish lit, my research, or my books, or just generally to chat. Send questions via asks, chat via DMs, and if you're looking for my articles, you can email me at finn [at] finnlongman [dot] com, which is also the best way to contact me for professional enquiries, whether academic or fiction related.

You can also find me on Bluesky, on Instagram, and on YouTube, where I (infrequently) retell medieval Irish stories for a general audience with lots of sarcasm and hand gestures. Technically I'm still on Twitter, but I'm trying to leave.

And finally, if you’ve found my research interesting or just generally want to support me, I have a tip jar and am always immensely grateful when somebody helps me to fund my book-buying habits: http://ko-fi.com/fianaigecht. You can also tip me directly on Tumblr if you like. I’m also a Bookshop affiliate, and you can buy books from my recommendation lists to support me and get some great reads at the same time.

[racxnteur]

Incomeless; will proofread your fics! (Or anything else.)

I'm not sure how to head this with a snazzy, attention-catching image given I'm not offering an obviously graphic service like art commissions, but let's give it a go...

Hello, I'm your friendly neighborhood disabled unemployed transgender queer on the internet. I have not posted a great amount about the details on this blog for privacy reasons, but I am currently in an untenable familial/financial living situation, which I am actively working to get out of. My primary barrier to disentangling myself from the pertinent parties is a lack of income. I've been unable to pursue traditional means of work due to being multiply disabled (slash chronically ill, slash treatment-resistant, et cetera...), but I do not qualify for SSI or unemployment, so I am stuck trying to find other ways of making money.

This is where you come in... If you'd like to help, you can:

$$ Hire me $$ to proofread your fics, essays, and more!

Click below for info! (I also may add separate posts for diversity reading and/or other writing- and editing-related services.)

For $0.00855/word *OR BEST BID*, I will vet your work of writing before you publish it, checking for mistakes in spelling, capitalization, & punctuation, missed words, inconsistencies of tense, formatting, & POV, and miscellaneous grammatical errors. Never again need you fear posting a finished chapter and discovering a slew of typos after the fact; no matter how sleep-deprived or late at night the state of writing, I will ensure your text is ship-shape. Or, if you happen to be interested in having other types of writing proofread before submission--essays, comics or webtoons, letters, transcripts, compositions of a personal nature, so on--I will happily take these on at a comparable rate.[1]

Qualifications:

Bachelor's degree in English with a minor in writing

Initiate of international collegiate honors society for English scholarship, Sigma Tau Delta

Active member of the International Association of Professional Writers and Editors (IAPWE)

Former lit editor for award-winning university literary arts magazine

Prior employment in tutoring and teaching English, as well as copy-editing and content writing

Nearly 20 years' writing experience

Previous experience as both fic writer and beta

Incisive eye for typo-hunting and tenacious attention to detail (I have high standards and will make those everybody else's problem... now for pay!)

I will read for content of any genre and all ratings, and am broadly[2] open to any subject matter, kinks, et cetera. I'll also post more detailed guidelines (booking process, any exclusions, additional criteria) on a separate, unrebloggable post so that any edits and updates are always current.

Message me via the chat feature on Tumblr, or send me an e-mail (I will post it on my more info post) to request a quote, bid for a slot, or just to see what I can offer for whatever project you have in mind. And please feel encouraged to share or boost this post! I am in urgent need of any income I can get, and every share counts 😭🙌

. . . . . . . . . .

Proofreading Full Details · Other Services · Support Me (alternatively, Tip this post!)

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

[1] There will be some exclusions to this, such as academic assignments/papers that have style guide requirements; i.e., I will not be your online MLA style checker or anything.

[2] As with anything, there will be sporadic exceptions to this as well, but I will always be up-front about such cases.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Mokoi - Day 80

Race: Night

Arcana: Death

Alignment: Neutral-Chaos

July 26th, 2024

During my research about this topic, I found myself finding out about an ongoing health crisis relating to the yolngu people, and this post is dedicated to spreading awareness. Please remember to treat all of these topics with respect.

Aboriginal folklore is very separated from itself, oddly enough- In spite of Australia being the smallest continent, several beliefs are spread throughout in specific areas, making for a colorful tapestry where you can never be sure what the next area will believe in, in spite of the general overarching themes of Dreamtime. Case in point, the Yolngu people residing in northeastern Arnhem Land, an aboriginal tribe living in the Northern Territory who believe in systems of kinship and a nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyle. Important to this culture as well is conceptions of magic, and, more importantly, what to avoid- the deep, dark underbelly of said world of magic. If one is to partake in the dark arts, after all, they would meet with a fate most undeserving- to be cursed by today's Demon of the Day, Mokoi.

As with a lot of Aboriginal folklore, Mokoi are relatively obscure in many respects. Most of the time, sources only state a line or two going over this monster, whose name literally translates to 'Evil Spirit,' describing it as a monster who would eat naughty children and devour sorcerers who dared to step into the realm of the dark. This is strange, though, as Mokoi appear to be an incredibly important fixture in Yolngu tradition, being described as the main source of death throughout the people-group... so today's gonna be another deep dive. And so soon after Arahabaki, too... ah, well. Thank you again to @eirikrjs for providing a very good rundown on this demon in this post. How do you keep coming through for me in the most random ways? Whatever, let's get into this.

As attested to in the 1970 article Myth as Language in Aboriginal Arnhem Land, the book Mortuary customs of northeast Arnhem Land, as well as... an Australian tonic blog, no I'm not kidding, an ancient tradition of the Yolngu people states that there are two different parts of the soul- one of the good, another of the bad. These parts of the soul are referred to as Birrimbirr and Mokuy, and when someone within the tribe passes away, their soul may take either of these forms based on their actions in life. However, while a birrimbirr will typically head back to its place of origin and pass peacefully, a mokuy will stick around, generally being a nuisance with asocial and unpredictable behaviors while haunting the deceased's belongings. This plays into a common tradition in Yolngu folklore, that being of the avoidance of uttering the deceased's name- not only will saying the name of a dead person possibly bring more grief to their family members and friends, but it may also bring their spirit back restlessly into the form of none other than a Mokoi, which appears to be an alternate spelling of Mokuy.

The Mokoi are dangerous spirits that appear frequently as a sort of boogeyman, attacking those who don't go out of their way to avoid them. It's to the point that the Yolngu people frequently make sculptures of the Mokoi, likely to alleviate the threat of them getting upset with them (or maybe they just wanted to sculpt them, I dunno). These spirits attack any who defile their graves, or even get too close to said graves, and those who do so or invoke the name of the dead long after their death may risk a sort of 'Spiritual Pollution' wherein they and their family suffer illness and eventual death. The consequences of speaking the names of the dead will lead to eventual death of oneself, after all. It's said, though I can't find a direct source for it so take this with a pinch of salt, that more people in Yolngu culture die of a Mokoi's attack than old age.

The importance of the mokuy and the birrimbirr cannot go understated, as well as the love and respect the Yolngu people feel for the dead. It's to the point that mentioning the name of a deceased person, even if one isn't afraid of an attack by the mokuy, is still frowned upon, and honestly, I find that beautiful. The amount of love and importance these people put on their ancestors is incredibly high and the love and respect everyone in their community shows that they are still people, deserving of love and respect. With that, though, how does a Japanese franchise portray a being from a completely different and closed-off tribe? Well, it's mixed.

Mokoi doesn't seem to take much inspiration from the Mokuy sculptures that typically depict it, though I can see them being hard to adapt.

Instead, it seems to primarily base itself off of the patterning of the sculptures, looking more like a green being loosely based on them carved out of wood and carrying with it a kylie to likely tie it even more with Australia, given that, well, boomerangs are the Australian stereotype. It's a bit stereotypical as a result of that, but I still do enjoy how it looks, being a funky and iconic design for a demon that still seems to carry some weight behind it.

However, through my research I came to learn that a lot of the yolngu people are in need of help, and I'd like to take a moment to rectify a mistake I made in my lwa analysis and actually speak on this. I don't have much room to actually speak on a still thriving community of people that I'm not a part of, but the yolngu people are currently going through a health crisis and I'd like to use this post as a way to spread awareness about this. As a still living people-group who are experiencing damages, and had their areas of worship ruined by various policy changes in Australia, I'd like to ask you to try and help them in any way that you can. While I'm not sure if this one has been vetted, please try to use any charity possible to assist these people in need, as they have gone through a lot.

[olderthannetfic]

I do think the disclaimers from authors about NOT ENDORSING!!!! certain behaviors in fics is pretty funny, but I’ll admit I do it too. Oddly I only put warnings for abuse of the self, not the abuse of others. I write a fair bit of fic that “romanticizes” (or seems like it does) suicide/self harm/eating disorders to the point where it can almost be a tutorial of how to do it if I’m graphic enough. So in those I normally just add dead dove tags and put a disclaimer about how the trigger warning is no joke and you shouldn’t do the things that the characters do in the fic. It’s not like a Lifetime Movie end credits where the authors note is filled with hotlines and stuff, just a quick little note that, hey, yeah, if you’re considering this, don’t do it.

Oddly, I don’t think that behavior comes from fandom itself but rather from a completely different corner of the internet — when I struggled with the same stuff that I write about, it was pretty common for everyone’s bio to say that they “don’t promote” or they’re “not pro” and I guess old habits die hard. (Whether or not certain types of depression/SH/ana blogs etc really DONT promote or those words are just a please-don’t-ban-me card is a completely different discussion.)

It’s pretty ironic actually because when I’m on the other side of things (as the reader), reading about it is really cathartic in fic, but triggering (not in a fun way) in “real” books. Like there’s several books I had to DNF or shelf because it got to be too much, but oddly enough fic actually helps me a lot.

WOW that was all way heavier than I intended to get when I first started typing this ask! But yeah, that’s my own personal relationship to “I do not endorse” and I didn’t realize how odd it actually is until I started reading some of these other asks! I don’t think any type of “this is bad, actually” authors note is ever necessary honestly, but I also don’t think they’re that big of a deal — if a note from the writer about how they’re ~totally against the “bad” thing they’re writing about~ really takes you out of the fic that much, I don’t understand that either…it’d be one thing if they rambled on and on but even then I don’t think it’s that big of a deal 🤣 Annoying maybe but no one is required to read the AN.

My general threshold is “would a movie/podcast/real™️ book have a similar Viewer Discretion Adviced notice? If so, your A/N is likely fine and not virtual signal-ly or OTT at all.”

--

Heh. I think you're assuming a very different type of PSA from what other people are.

From what I've read, self-harm, suicide, and disordered eating are some of the topics that are a bit Monkey See, Monkey Do. Even support group discussions may increase the desire to cut, for example. It's still not 1:1, and we should be able to make art about serious topics, but a PSA doesn't feel totally absurd here. There are plenty of scientific studies showing measurable increases in people hurting themselves IRL after consuming certain material. Even if you did include a hotline, most people's objection is like "That number isn't valid for where I live", not "No one should ever do this".

I think if you polled people, you'd find that many of the PSA-haters are actually totally fine with "Hey, this fic contains serious depictions of mental illness. Make sure you're up for that today." and similar warnings.

But what people are actually talking about in 99% of "PSAs suck" discussions is rape fantasies.

Some clown writes a fic that is blatant fap material for people who like bodice ripper ravishment, and then they plaster it with "Rape Fantasies Bad" commentary that shows that they're judging themselves and their readers in a puritanical way that's a mega-buzzkill, completely out of keeping with the tone of the fic, and completely out of keeping with the actual scientific evidence.

Rape fantasies are commonplace and not a big deal, and to the extent that any depictions are demonstrably harmful, it's things like mainstream Hollywood movies reinforcing very standard cultural narratives, not somebody's sex pollen fic that's probably full of "It's so wrong, so why is it so hot???" anyway.

[millenianthemums]

pinned post

hi i’m Robin :)

i take commissions! my commission info is here

some of my favorite things are horror, weird nature stuff, animation, and Pokemon

i welcome fanart and fanfics of any of the stuff i’ve made, i love seeing it so much, please feel free to post it on the condition that you provide credit and tag me or send me a link so i can see it

i’m a mentally ill queer adult man who reblogs posts about sex, drugs and horror media. if any of those things make you uncomfortable, here’s your warning to steer clear. i try to tag things consistently to avoid triggering people, so feel free to ask me to tag something for you. just a heads up in case something slips through.

tags for some of the things i’ve made:

#texting god AU (Pokemon Legends Arceus)

#bill & mabel friendship AU (Gravity Falls)

#the gauntlet (Dungeons and Dragons fanfic universe)

#my ocs (catchall tag for my made-up guys)

#aatgm (the book i’m writing. i also have a sideblog for it @aatgm)

art tag: #milleniart

writing tag: #robin writes stuff

[notjosieyouremy]

every edsheeran book ive ever read and what i thought

*reblog without tags please

update #1: i just finished reading Letting An@ Go by anonymous. the teenage drama and romance is gross and annoying. the protagonist has a lot of strong opinions about peoples weight, especially her mother’s, which is very triggering. plenty of m3an $pO if that’s your thing. rampant fatphobia. i give it 3 out of 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

5 star tier ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• hunger: a memoir of (my) body by roxane gay. one of the best edsheeran books ive read. it’s about sa, food addiction, boolimia, feminism, fatphobia, the struggles of just trying to exist black woman in a large body. would recommend

• i’m glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy. it’s so good. i think i finished it in a day. it’s about a lot more than edsheeran. highly recommend. go read it right now

• unbearable lightness: a story of loss and gain by portia de rossi. a gay actor’s struggles with edsheeran. one of the few i’ve read more than once. would recommend

• wasted: a memoir of an0rex!a and boolimia by marya hornbacher. really deserves to be in a class of its own. it’s the best written edsheeran book out there. it’s sad, hilarious, intelligent, perfectly captures the internal voice of mania. highly tr!ggering, so proceed with caution. after wasted was published she relapsed, which she speaks about in madness: a bipolar life. it’s also a very good book but edsheeran is not the focus

4 star tier ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• insatiable: a young mother’s struggle with an0rexia by erica rivera. if you wanna read about someone who takes fistfuls of bisacodyl and exercises intensely, you might like this book. it’s very good. would recommend

• dying to be th!n by nikki grahame. imagine being so severely malnourished as a child that you never go through puberty. thats how serious her illness was. she basically grew up in treatment facilities, managed to recover against all odds, went on big brother (the reality show), published a book, relapsed, and tragically passed away in 2021. the covid lockdowns were hard on her mental health. would recommend

• the girls at 17 swann street by yara zgheib. semi-autobiographical work of fiction. what sets this one apart is the protagonist isn’t a teenage girl. she’s, like, 28 i think? something like that. would definitely recommend if you get tired of reading about teens and preteens all the time

• elena vanishing by elena dunkle. at a certain point, all these books can be summarized in one sentence: she had to choose between recovery or death. it’s a very good memoir. would recommend

• born round: the secret history of a full-time eater by frank bruni. we love to see male representation in the edsheeran community. he was a chubby kid, turned to unhealthy means to achieve we!ght loss, eventually learns to heal his relationship with food and becomes restaurant critic for the new york times (ever heard of it?). would recommend

• sure, i’ll join your cult: a memoir of mental illness and the quest to belong anywhere by maria bamford. if you don’t know who maria bamford is, she’s one of the best stand up comics, period. that’s not even my opinion, it’s just an agreed upon fact within the stand up community. she’s brilliant. the book is about her mental illnesses and all the different self help groups she joins (so many!). she does go into her struggle with exercise boolimia, though that’s not the primary subject. it gets 5 stars as a book, but 4 stars as an edsheeran book because there just isn’t a lot of dis0rder talk

3 star and below ⭐️⭐️⭐️

• stick figure: a diary of my former self by lori gottlieb. good but i had trouble relating to the protagonist because was quite young and immature

• the art of st4rving by sam j. miller. some much needed male representation in edsheeran literature. and some lgbtq representation. it’s YA (young adult) fiction, not really my taste. would recommend for those who like YA. great cover art!

• wintergirls by laurie halse anderson. a lot of people love this book. i thought it was ok. it’s a work of fiction by an author who isn’t really part of the edsheeran or recovery community. it’s another YA book. i will always prefer memoirs and non-fiction

• fat chance by lesléa newman. this was the first edsheeran book i read. it was assigned reading for my high school health class. it’s a YA novel about a 13 year old girl who wants to lose we!ght. she re$tricts, she b;nges, she poorges, she becomes boolimic. i can trace my edsheeran back to this book. i started d;eting, b;ngeing, and abusing lax4tives as a direct result of reading this material. it did the exact opposite of its purpose, trying to steer young people away from toxic d!et culture. my take away was, i’m overweight, therefore i should be willing to do anything to get th!nner. it’s not very good tbh. maybe if you like YA you’d like it but otherwise, would not recommend

[puckpocketed]

Tag game <3 @neonfretra thanking and cursing you for this tag my mind is poisomde… <3

Rules: post your first ever hockey art, your latest hockey art, and your favourite hockey art, then tag three hockey artists

NEONFRETRA you and oensible are 2 of my go-to tag targets for this exact game I’m shaking my fin and cryign…. Anyway . With 0 pressure or expectations . Here are my tags!! mwah <3

@18minutemajor - we don’t interact except when I scream in the reblogs of your posts and that one time but you inspire me to paint all the time every day <3

@kmercer - my comrade my sharpie lid my woolly jumper <3 hello…!

@chownkie - hello… please show us your hokcey art…… I think I saw some from you once but I can’t remember if it was a fever dream…. If it was and u ain’t ever make hockey art then please show us some stuff u like pleag……

if ur an artist and see this . Consider yourself tagged. Photography and other crafts count (TO ME!)

First ever hockey art is technically THIS piece . it’s tangentially hockey related because I got the phrase “enemy of silence” that one time a broadcast fired those exact words at TZ (current favourite annoying girl of all time). My friend Harry was describing his journey to try and pick up books and how the cashier wouldn’t shut up and Harry has MAD stimulation issues when people talk too much at him so he hit da bricks only to have to do it all over again because he’s . Got a store membership and it’s a sunk cost situation which has turned into a horrible timeloop . I drew a representation of it <3

Latest hockey art… well. hockey has actually brought me back to taking my craft a little more seriously + practicing it with so much more joy. every artist on here is so interesting and cool and inspiring waaaaaaaaa <3 So I’ve finally dedicated time to doing a nicely rendered and coloured piece,,, here is a bit of it ! I flirted with the idea of doing it in black and white but then I started having too much fun colour picking and getting my reps in . I hadn’t properly touched my tablet for painting in about a year prior to starting back up about . 3 months ago? and coming back to form has been a journey! But I feel myself improving every day and settling back into my old rhythms/styles. life is so sparklingsweet (<- all one word because that’s the only thing that feels right) I’ve said this before on other platforms but. No matter what is happening in your life, no matter where you are, if you are an artist and you haven’t made anything in a while…Hold on. You will make art again.

Favourite hockey art.. probably my recent pfp! I did the line art for this one in a daze while recovering from an illness ksjcjskjsdk anyway it’s my favourite because a friend/moot messaged me and called it my “time skip” pfp and I just about died laughing. we ARE about to bring Sasuke back to the village….. on god….

1. This is me and my mullet. 2. I wear yellow/orange tinted lenses and have done so for. the past 6-7 years? 8? I’m not counting. Why? they look cool that’s why (also they help with eye strain but I chose the colour because they look cool) 3. Those are real earrings that I do own and they are that big . Gender isn’t just fake it’s a cop inside your head and you need to kill it with prejudice . 4. This will be inaccurate as of. 4 months from now when I get a moon tattoo on my neck <3 I love moons so bad <3

[unadulterated-syd]

remus lupin x reader

🌙 dancing in the moonlight 🌙 Remus: apple pie by Lizzy Mcalpine 

i went off topic but u guys love me

warnings -> james and sirius are dicks but they mean well ! , none i'm kidding <3 unedited !! might not even make sense im struggling ^_^

nothing ever felt truly right to you, you worried a lot about the future, whilst also never enough.

you could never answer their questions, "what will you do after hogwarts?" you always felt embarrassed when you lacked a reply, lacked something meaningful like others.

teachers, nurses, officials— it all felt pointless to you.

or when they asked what'd happened to the last person you'd dated, or perhaps when you'd get engaged, even celebrity crushes never lasted. your mind could never settle on someone, or something.

nowadays you warned anyone you met, anyone at all. you'd made excuses, maybe you couldn't handle being tied down, maybe you'd never make for a loving parent. who knew.

it wasn't different for remus. not at first.

—

"this seat taken?" he hummed, sitting in the seat before you could even answer. truth be told the library was silent, as long as he kept quite the seat was his.

"i guess now it is." you retorted, eyes never leaving the book in front of you. you weren't necessarily indulged in the guide, but you did need to get your classwork done and this was the first step.

his eyes seemed to linger on you, you could feel it. like he was analysizing you, as if he didn't quite understand something about you. but it really made you rather uneasy.

"you're in my defense against the dark arts class, aren't you? the one with the loud mouth?"

"excuse me?" you looked at him, he gave you a questioned look as if he failed to see the problem with his remark. but, it hadn't even been the right person he was thinking about.

"always saying shitty jokes in class? expecting people to laugh? if that doesn't ring a bell—"

"we're not in the same class. i'm a friend of lily's, if you find me familiar. now please keep your remarks to yourself, i'm rather busy. it is the library."

he seemed a bit suprise by the outburst you portrayed, however he simply stared. almost in awe, most people ignored his remarks or simply moved on— mostly on account of his pranking reputation.

he left after awhile, only to tell his friends of what happened. james and sirius agreeing that their next target ought to be you, without remus' permission, and without telling peter— who was known to be a fowl liar.

the idea was to call it a revenge plan, with no real ill intent involved. truth be told, no one was really upset with you for telling remus off, the boys, including remus, likely would have taken your side.

however, any chance to prank someone was taken, and quickly. even if they often took it too far.

—

that day was no different, walking down a long corridor on your way to potions class. you never liked the dungeons of the castle, but you were more than willing to venture there for an a.

you happened to have this class with sirius, james, and lily. james had almost ratted himself out to lily, therefore the seat next to her was open— sirius having forced him to sit with him.

days with lily at your side were always the best days, potions class went by easily with the talented red head. plus homework was always made better with her.

"hey." you greeted, pulling out the stool and sitting in it.

"boy am i glad to see you," she began, a glare shooting james' way, "watch out for those two, they're acting weird. asked me where you sit the other day."

your gaze followed her glare, focusing on the two boys who were holding back snickers. you sighed, remembering the run in with remus the other day.

"i accidentally snapped at lupin the other day, i didn't think he'd take it to heart or anything."

she shrugged, promising she'd try to talk them out of it before the lecture began.

lily walked you to your next class, knowing the boys wouldn't try anything with her at your side. but, she couldn't do much else till the end of the day.

the day seemed to drag on, worried that at any moment you'd turn purple and fly to the moon— an exaggeration, maybe, but it was still as terrifying as that.

with the marauders boys you never knew— any moment you could have a mob of angry people thinking you disliked a particular band, or perhaps a proffesor would make you beg for forgiveness for something you hadn't done.

it wasn't until you stood covered in red and gold paint as people pointed and laughed, that you knew what your fate was. you wanted to shrink into yourself and never face anyone again.

even your housemates— friends, albeit everyone but lily and remus himself were laughing. with lily in shock, it forced remus to be the first to act. he was at your side within an instant, a glare shot straight at his friends who no longer found the ordeal funny.

he pulled you from the audience's eyes, forced to comply with no other hope you allowed him to. you could feel the anger flustering in your chest, you wanted to smack his pretty face. push him down, maybe even kick him while he's down.

"here." he slid his robes off, helping you pull yours off. luckily, you'd had the buttons done at the front, unintentionally shielding the dress shirt and slacks underneath them. you stared at the robes he extened to you, it didn't make much sense.

"why are you doing this? haven't you had your fun, lupin." his name sounded like poison on your tongue, if you'd been looking at him you would've seen his proper wince. he knew it looked bad for him, but explaining himself over helping you would have made everything worse.

"i really do mean well." he sighed, still extending the robes to you, having thrown yours to the side. "i had nothing to do with that, my pranks are much more.. organized."

he only continued when you threw him a glare, he was digging a hole. "i didn't mean for them to do this, really. you don't have to believe me, but at least take these and then you can be on your way."

your face softened after moments of silence, as much as you hated to admit it he was right. his prank would've ruined you, whilst theirs simply put a damper on your day. he was offering you robes because he was sympathetic to you, he didn't feel you deserved that.

you took the robes, looking at him, "thanks." you paused, there was a funny feeling settling in your chest. unfamiliar, yet you could identify it. the feeling of security, safety, possibly the idea of a future.

even if you could've walked away, you found yourself looking back at him, "are you my classmate, the loud mouth?"

—

req from -> @loving-and-dreaming

remus tags -> @loser-fics @diorgirl444 @doyouknowwhoyouare13

marauders tags -> @withastrangerheart

[madllamamomma]

The Visitor~ Part 11!!!!!

[WARNING: This content contains physical abuse, mental abuse, violence/gore/graphic depictions of being physically ill.]

The Smoldering Phoenix~

Door after door after door…behind every handle was the same. No Rhemi (at least not their Rhemi). All the searching began to feel like it was going to take an eternity to get through all these doors. Still without any success, the past Rhemi silently searches for her living counterpart with Muriel and Asra trailing behind her, helping with the search. Along the way, they both got to see more of Rhemi’s memories. Slowly but surely, the picture of her youth in Charlés was becoming more and more clear… 

It seemed like Rhemi’s young life was rather lonely and isolated. Just as Martin said, she was an only child, and there weren't really any children for her to play with. Florence and Martin were barely around at that time and added to the solidarity. From what Muriel and Asra gathered, her parents were doing their best to play their own political games in order to gain favor within the court and most importantly, the King. Strangely, the years before Rem’s sixth birthday seemed to be all but gone, the earliest memory she had was her father attempting to change her eye color. After that, those younger years were still rather hazy amidst all the ash and smoke. Some years were completely missing, while others were spotty. But from what they could see, most of her days were filled with utter monotony. Lecture after lecture, piano lesson after piano lesson, embroidery session after embroidery session, boring art class after boring art class, hours of staring at the same damn fruit bowl when she wanted to draw the mountain tops outside—the poor thing was forced to sit in her seat for hours on end, and whenever she’d fidget or even twirl her hair, she’d be scolded harshly, and even punished by her governess. She was a horrid old retch of a woman who wore nothing but dark drabby prudish clothing that covered up every inch of her skin except her head and boney wrinkly hands. Her hair was always pulled back in a very tight neat bun on the back of her skull and other than a stray vengeful smirk here or there, she hardly ever smiled, which added to her unattractiveness.

The only times Rhemi had any fun was when she read her story books in her spare time and played on the grounds of the chateau. All alone of course. Sometimes servants would play with her, but after a while they had to return to work, they did have jobs to do after all. A handful of times she snuck to the front gates and watched the commoners as they walked by, until she was caught by the groundskeeper that is. After that, she was forbidden from straying even past the inner gardens close to the manor. It wasn’t so bad at first, but places start to lose their intrigue the more you stare at the same exact bush for months on end with nothing really new happening. So then, she learned that she had to just play pretend, diving deep into her imagination, where in her mind she had hundreds of other kids to play with and she was the most interesting girl in the world, and everyone wanted to be her friend and she had wings on her back so she could fly where every she pleased. 

Back in the lonely classroom, she’d often stare out the window to the outside world, longing to be anywhere else but there, only having her imagination to comfort her. As the time went by, that beautiful chateau started to become less of a home and more like a gilded cage. The small bird could only dream of soaring through the sky, high above the gates and into the snowy mountains in the distance. Perhaps she could see all the wonderful places she read about in her books, like Prakra, the Salty Sea, the Steppe, or even beyond that.

An interesting memory that Muriel quickly noted was Rhemi sneakily spying on her father one drizzly afternoon during one of her free days. This was when Beatrix was rather young, so she didn’t stray far from her master. Rhemi watched from afar behind a house plant as he read his dozens of books, conducted spells, and even made potions and elixirs for the court. Finally, one day when he wasn’t there, she crept into his chambers and pulled a couple of books out of his library about magic and hid them in her toy box under all of her stiffies. Her father always brought something pretty and expensive back from his trips with the king, soon the gifts started to pile up higher and higher—a perfect hiding spot. Although they were rather advanced books and it took her a while to get through each one, she still read and reread them even though they were over five hundred pages long. The text behind their leather bindings made something inside the child catch fire every time she cracked open one of their covers. Once she was finally finished, she’d carefully put them back exactly where they were found; her father never seemed to have noticed. Apparently she was always a bookworm at heart.

Despite her intelligence, she apparently had a difficult time concentrating. Not that she couldn’t concentrate at all—On the contrary, when she got into a particular subject she found interesting, she did remarkably well, exceedingly even. She’d actually become somewhat obsessive with it—But on the other hand, with things she didn’t find interesting at all, it was like literally pulling teeth, which was rather baffling. All she had to do was, ‘just try harder... ‘Just applied yourself’…. ‘Just pay attention’... ‘This is quite simple, just sit down and focus for a few hours, it’s not that difficult…’, That's what everyone always said anyways. They never could see how the poor thing was working as hard as she possibly could. She desperately wanted to learn her lessons and wanted nothing more for them to stick, she really did. But it was as if there was an invisible force in her brain that would push it all away. It was frustrating, infuriating even, not only to her tutors or her parents, but for herself. Once she overheard her parents arguing loudly over her academics. Martin mostly seemed to have just pushed the blame on Florence, even though he was the one who hired their governess and wrote the lesson plans, yet oddly it was still her fault. Poor little Rhemi cried her little eyes out as she clutched to her favorite teddy bear and she sat at the top of the stairs hearing them shout back and forth. It made her feel like she was just a disappointment… a failure of a daughter. She even started to feel like her parents were unhappy all because of her. The daughter of the King’s right hand man was expected to be better than this. It was hard enough that she was so unsightly that she barely came to court events other than piano recitals where no one could see her from afar, let alone be deemed an utter nitwit. Such pressure at a young age can honestly make something dark fester inside. Makes sense why always seemed to have to prove herself, as if just existing wasn’t enough, always had to feel useful, never could take a compliment because she never believed them.

Really, it was never her fault. Sometimes people just learn differently. If anything it was the adult’s fault for not seeing her struggle. Perhaps it wasn’t a lack of noticing, it just was a lack of understanding… And no one seemed to understand that. Not to mention her school days never seemed to have any room for playtime. Because of her poor marks, her father and governess doubled down and forced a very rigid and aggressive course leaving barely time for lunch let alone bathroom breaks. Stuck in an airtight schedule with the same boring routines and lessons taught by the same old crotchety governess who seemed to hate the girl for no good reason.

The woman’s name was Madame Le Beau, ironically enough. At first Rhemi wanted nothing more than to make her happy, she was smart and knew a lot. Rhemi wanted to be smart like she was too. But over time her admiration turned to pure spiteful animosity. Why was this woman in this field, only the gods knew… maybe once she was a good tutor, but now she had paper thin patients. 

Eventually the old bitch’s patients grew even thinner and thinner, and the poor girl found it harder and harder to learn under such stress. One day, the reprimanding escalated from just purely verbal to physical punishments. It started with her governess grabbing the girl’s head, forfilly turning her head back to her work any time she looked away like to the window or out to even a wooden plank on the floor. The force of the old woman twisting Rhemi’s head back would sometimes hurt her neck and leave marks. From there, it just got worse and worse. The miserable old shrew eventually found a skinny wooden ruler, sometimes she popped a good one on her head or shoulders, but then she moved down to smacking the back of her hands. 

Anytime she made even the slightest mistake, —WHAMMM!! She’d left marks all over her poor little forearms and hands until she started to tremble from the pain. After this started, Rhemi would panic, finding herself caught in between fight or flight, and instead go into a frozen state, unable to make any decision, making her teacher even more furious.

Finally, on a particularly bad day, she had had enough of the old woman’s bull shit. For the very first time Rhemi felt her magic erupt within her like a boiling geyser. The old woman’s ruler suddenly burst into flames along with Rhemi’s papers she held in her hands. It nearly roasted her wrinkly arthritic digits. Shocked and applauded, she threw the burning ruler and parchment to the ground. Eyes wide, Rhemi grinned in delightful surprise, feeling a sudden surge of happiness in the sudden chaos. Deep down she wanted this to happen, it’s exactly what she pictured in her head, and as if it were a dream. The old woman hollered at the top of her lungs, “YOU—You-you little demon! You’re a little demon with bloody demon eyes!!”. As terrible as it was, it was kinda hilarious to witness. She wailed all the way through the hallway, down the stairs and all the way out of the manor. Rhemi ran over and pressed her little face to the window and watched as the women ran cowardly away towards the gates. She never felt someone being afraid of her before, half of her wanted to cry, while the other half revealed the sort of power that came with her fearful reaction.

After that day, Rhemi never saw Madame Le Beau ever again. Her father was of course furious and she was grounded for nearly a month. More than anything he seemed mortified that she had such raw magical abilities at such a young age and just wanted them to be sealed away. But that wasn’t really possible. To punish her, they took away her favorite books and toys, took away her dinners for three days, forced to stay in her room where she was made to write on a blackboard, “I will not disobey my governess. I will not use magic.” 500 times each day for a week, and she had a terrible slap across the face. She even had to write the old bitch an ‘apology’ letter. Well, really her mother wrote it and Rhemi had to copy it word for word so it was in her own writing... but deep down Rhemi didn’t seem to care about what happened. She was sorry she was in trouble, she was sorry she had her books and toys taken away, she was sorry that she had to go to bed hungry, and her poor hand felt so cramped by the end of each day, but she wasn’t sorry about what happened to the governess that day. Muriel could see the look in her warm velvety red eyes, and knew this look all too well… the young child was jaded. ‘An eye for an eye’… that’s what the ancient laws always said. At least that’s what Madame Le Beau taught her during one of her lessons. So why didn't it apply to this situation? Because she was just a child and the governess was an adult? But why did the old woman seem to have all the power?… Sure didn’t seem like she had any power when Rhemi burned that ruler now, did she? Besides, the old hag deserved it. Maybe that’s why she felt the way she did when the old woman ran down out of the chateau. For the first time in Rhemi’s life, she felt the power she welded. 

And it felt good.

Being grounded wasn’t all that bad though. The 500 sentences each day was atrocious, and her stomach would hurt most of the night, but being all alone wasn’t too different from her day to day. It's not like her life wasn’t already boring as it was. She was already isolated, her only friends were in her mind, and she could easily entertain herself. Writing stories of her own on the other side of the blackboard then erasing them the next day so she won’t get into trouble. Looking out her window towards the gardens and watching the servants working, she’d pretend that she was watching a creature with bright wings hide behind the bushes and avoid being detected. And even trying to use her new found magic. Other than chaining the child to the bed, it’s rather difficult to take those things away. Besides, it was better than being in that godforsaken classroom.

Despite this being a rather difficult time for the Alarie household, after the burning papers incident, Florence started to spend more time with her daughter. Perhaps she realized how much Rhemi needed a parent, not just some overrated nanny. Especially when her morals were becoming rather questionable the older she was getting. Muriel also noticed something shift within her mother around this time as he continued to see her throughout Rhemi’s memories. Something in her appearance started to look… different. It wasn’t aging per say, and she wasn’t becoming ugly or anything like that. It felt something deeper than that. Her skin had become paler and the bag under her eyes started to become more pronounced as if she never got enough sleep. She’d look more and more exhausted as the years went on while she became thinner and frailer, her very soft features becoming slightly sharper... Was she sick? She never told Rhemi if she was…There were no memories where anyone talked about her being sick so far. And well, Martin never seemed to have even noticed either. He was always too ‘busy’ with his duties from the king anyways.

On one particularly gloomy spring day in the afternoon a few weeks after the incident, Phara showed up in the garden with Florence. After that, she became Rhemi’s tutor. The girl’s dull life seemed to completely change—Once terribly abysmal days stuck in a cold dark dank classroom filled with long winded lessons, countless tears, and utter misery, were now replaced with warmth, wonder and joy. Phara was a total opposite from that frumpy old woman in every way imaginable. Phara on the other hand was rather talented at making learning enjoyable and engaging for young Rhemi and she loved spending time with the woman. She had more of a hands-on approach with Rhemi, mixed in with traditional lessons that worked for her. Sometimes she made lessons a game, some of the lessons she conducted in the gardens or outside, but rarely were they in the classroom all day. And if they were, she always made a fun activity to do together. Eventually, Rhemi’s mother started to join their fun too and Florence started to smile more and more.

Even her father noticed Rhemi’s stark improvements, even in her worse subjects. At last he was happy with his daughter. He praised her and showered her with beautiful gifts. And for once Rhemi felt her father’s approval. Eventually, he relinquished his daughter’s lesson plans completely to the Phara. He’d never admit it, but she was even more knowledgeable than him in most subjects (other than playing the political game, she had no interests in such things). She was a highly sought after scholar after all, she taught many of the Parkan princesses back in the day before coming back to Charlés.

Right at the start, Phara and Rhemi just clicked. As the time went on, Phara and Rhemi grew rather close. She was honestly another mother figure, and sometimes even her father figure. She wasn’t at all like her own mother, she was almost the complete opposite in fact: tall, confident, loud and outgoing, vibrant, and strong. The only things that Rhemi knew about her father was he was an important magician that worked for the king, he loved giving lavish gifts, was obsessed with her good grades, he enjoyed collecting books, he was constantly too busy or to tired to really talk to, and that she had to walk on eggshells when he was around…

 They did however play chess together. It was usually a monthly or biweekly occurrence. It was the only time he made for her in his busy schedule. Which made it at first very special, but he never relented, always went all out to try and win. Sometimes he would explain his movements or why hers weren as effective, but half the time he expected her to learn by trial and error. She then grew to hate chess. Funny enough he was always too focused on teaching her an obscure lesson through chess, but never bothered to notice that she never even wanted to play in the first place. After a while she’d just let him win and give up about half way through, which frustrated the magician. Other than that, Rhemi knew nothing really anything about him. She had no idea what exactly he did for the court, or where he’d go on his travels. He never really said. So having another stable adult there like Phara next to her mother felt rather comforting. She made her feel like becoming an adult wasn’t all that terrible. Most importantly, Phara made Rhemi feel like she was worth a damn. Not because she was the daughter of an important nobleman, or that she was just intelligent, but because Rhemi was just Rhemi. She saw her. Finally, an adult who took an interest in what Rhemi liked. 

As time carried on, Phara could see the child’s potential and started teaching Rhemi more and more magic. Rather than only suppress her talents, she wanted to nourish them and make them stronger. She even said that she had never seen such raw talent. Usually the best course of action is to use them and gain more control, just like a toddler learning to walk. Knowing that she’d never get Martin’s approval, ever the bold woman, she even took her student off the grounds for the first time. For the first time Rhemi went to the local markets where the common folk lived. It was much louder than she’d thought it would be, but she still loved it. On another outing, Phara took her to see other children her age. They were local Thoritian children, some were even Phara’s own family. One child Rem really took a liking to was a girl with pretty curly bluish hair a few years younger than her. Her eyes even matched Rhemi’s brownish-red, and she always made her laugh, and she had the cutest dimples in her cheeks.

Then on the third outing, Rhemi met Ezavior in the town square market. A vendor was selling various animals, but he was the only ferret. Wne their eyes met, there was an instantaneous connection. Phara had to practically rip her away from his cage and Rhemi quietly cried on the way home. Then for her birthday that year, there he was, in the beautifully wrapped present box. 

Now, instead of spending her nights alone having teatime with her now hundreds of stuffed animals, playing pretend with her humanoid bird imaginary friend named ‘Dee’ (Admittedly that one was just weird and kinda sad), and reading her fantasy books for the thousandth time. She had that sweet adorable little spunky ferret. Rhemi and Ezavior would stay up late as she practiced some spells under her covers or even read to him until they both fell asleep. She loved her little companion, and he loved her too.

But not all of these days were so wonderful. When Martin was home, it seemed like all he and Florence did was argue, bicker, and fight. But then he seemed to flip a switch and showered her gifts and brought exotic foods and clothing. Either way, the tension in the air was always so tense and palpable. Sometimes Rhemi’s stomach felt like it was twisted when there was a lot of fighting. So she started to stay in her room more often in her downtime. Eventually the gifts and grand gestures seemed to have meant very little as time went on, after a while, they just felt like a show, and honestly it was. Not facing the reality of his marriage crumbling, Martin started to go on his travels for longer and longer, staying away as much as he could. He always said that, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’. It’s too bad no one told him otherwise because that's when Florence drifted further away from him, but drew closer to Phara. Finally, Florence stopped showing up to the court events all together and stopped wearing her stuffy uptight clothes and let her hair down (literally). 

It wasn’t clear how or when the affair started, but it had to be around this time. There were too many signs. Outside looking in, it was obvious how they acted around one another, stealing loving secret glances, passing notes to one another and giggling after reading it, then quickly burning to before any servant noticed. They even spend the night in each other's rooms. Rhemi clearly had no clue, she just thought they were best friends. From her understanding, that's what all girl best friends did at least that's what happened in her books. She even nearly caught them both in the act after having a nightmare, but luckily for them, she didn’t know any better by their disheveled panicked state. The poor thing just thought they were having a slumber party. She read something about that in a book once, where girls spent the night at other girls' houses and they stayed up late talking all night and had lots of snacks, and slept in the same bed, then had breakfast together before their parents came and picked them up.

Only after she got older did she know what that all meant. Infidelity was very wrong, but how could she judge either of them? The marriage between Florence and Martin was obviously over within a few years before the affair, yet Florence still stayed. But why?... “Well. she wasn’t the only one in a gilded cage.” Muriel thought to himself.

Strangely, the memories in Charlés led up to the day before her eleventh birthday, but then they just suddenly stopped. After this, her memories went straight into Vesuvia when she was well over fifteen. Nothing about how the three of them got there, nothing about when they changed their names, nothing about what happened to Ezavior and nothing about how her mother died. Other than the very broken memory of Rhemi helping Muriel and Asra in the cave as children, there was a large gap of years that were still completely missing. Muriel and Asra were beginning to wonder if these memories were lost forever to the flames that caused such damage everywhere else in her self-consciousness. Some memories were absolutely petrified, so maybe they went with them.

______

Now deep into the third floor, Muriel, Asra and the past Rhemi had now combed through at least five dozen memories at this point. But still no Rhemi. Currently, they were in a string of memories of Vesuvia in her teens and even her early twenties. It’s odd. This version of her was completely different from her bright eyed bubbly self from her childhood and even herself now. Just like before, the years closer to her death weren’t found quite yet, nor the years after she was brought back to life… But as they looked on, many of these memories started to make Muriel realize how much Rhemi really was like his old self. She was rather awkward and had a lot of social anxiety when meeting new people. You never would have thought that with how she interacted with customers in the shop. But in these years she hid a lot of her feelings, was harshly passive aggressive, she was highly jealous and selfish, and most of all deeply angry and hurt. Even the current Rhemi had a hot-temper, and she was prone to melancholy sometimes, sure, who isn’t? But this Rhemi had a sense of deep seeded visceral anger and insecurity that was totally foreign to the woman he knew now. But he knew that feeling all too well. Anger always was a byproduct of something else. 

As Muriel opens another burnt unlocked door, he stops for a moment to study it. This one was probably the most colorful one he had seen so far, and the front of the door was embellished with a familiar looking gold fox mask. Despite his form being changed back into a human’s, Muriel still could use his nose to smell and other heightened senses to seek out Rhemi. But unfortunately there wasn't any sign of his beloved. He glances over seeing that the other two were still busy looking in the other doors. Quietly, he slips inside and takes the time to watch this one play out, finally getting a moment to himself.

The memory starts, the mountain man finds himself transported into Nadia’s palace with hundreds of people present. The poor thing sighs defeatedly and curses under his breath, this wasn’t at all the solace he was hoping for. About to reach his hand towards the door handle, he turns away from the crowd of people hoping the next door would be better. But he then realized that this memory was during a masquerade. The palace was also noticeably more tackily decorated and lacked the charm that it had now. Over his left shoulder, Muriel could hear Rhemi’s very distinct giggle. Quickly, his eyes search for her, but he finds it difficult among the sea of people in various masks and fancy clothes. But he then finally sees her sporting a blue and purple silk outfit, and bird mask. It didn’t look like her style, as if she borrowed the outfit from someone else.The hermit could feel his fits tighten and his shoulders tensing up as he saw who was standing in front of her–a blonde-haired man in a red jacket and white trousers, accessorized with various metals across his chest, wearing a white and gold goat mask with long horns poking upwards… and with a brand new golden arm.

Muriel made a low grumble that radiated in the small room as he saw the ex-count’s face again, especially as he gazed at Rhemi with somewhat hungry eyes. It was like watching a snake about to pounce on a trusting mouse. It was obvious that she didn’t really care what he was talking about, but she smiled, batted her long eyelashes and laughed at his jokes anyways, even if it was in a polite way. “Wow… could I be so bold, my dear?” The count asked. Before she could answer, the Count gently reaches for her right hand and he brings it to his lips, shooting her a very charming look. She gave him no resistance as he pressed a firm yet soft kiss on the top of her knuckles, making her flounder in place uncontrollably with an unsure expression. 

Furious, Muriel reached out of instinct to his beloved and wanted nothing more than to break his jaw. But once Muriel reached out, he was instantly pushed back with the forcefield, a very sobering reminder of where he was. He stood there clenching his fists so hard it hurt, but then he took a very deep breath. “It’s just a memory… It's just a memory. It’s. Just. A. Memory.” He repeats to himself in his head. “He’s in the Devil’s Realm. He’s in the Devil’s Realm. He’s in the fuckin’ Devil’s Realm….” He then says out softly loud trying to ground himself.

“... Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?” The count continues to say, softening his eyes as he lets go of her hand. In the moment, a servant comes by with a silver platter holding dozens of glasses of wine. He quickly grabs two, one in each hand, as he looks at her longingly and hands her a glass. “… And you’re a delight to talk to.”

“Hmmf… you mean she’s good at listening…” Muriel mutters to himself, folding his arms loathingly.

“Oh.. Umm.. I’m just–” She starts to say something while staring at the glass. But then her gleaming eyes glance back up at his face as she realizes what he had just said. “Wait...You really think I’m beautiful?...” He nods with a chuckle, finding her shock at his statement amusing. With her warm cheeks, she peers back at him and she sheepishly reaches out for the glass with a flirtatious grin. “Thank you–” 

“—Ohh! If it isn’t Count Lucio!!” A woman with long short black locks wearing a falcon mask interrupts, wearing a beige and blue outfit that was really beautiful on her. She gives the count a short bow before just waltzing over standing in between Rhemi and Lucio, casually cockblocking. “So good to see you, Sire!~” It was Phara. Well, by this time she was called Athena.

The count turns his head hearing his name. “Ahhhh! Yes!!…. Ummm… you!” Lucio greets half annoyed. Obviously he had no idea who she was or even what her name was. Funny, she worked for him occasionally and was in the castle at least once a month.

Rhemi suddenly shrinks into herself as she hastily hides her hands behind her back pretending she wasn’t about to take the cup. Athena then smiles as she gracefully trundles her way over to Rhemi’s left side. “—Oooo~!! Thank you, sire.”  The woman swiftly takes the glass of wine that was offered to Rhemi, and downs it in a few gulps. “Ahhhh! I was rather parched.~” She says wiping her upper lip dry then places the now empty glass back to his gold hand smacking her lips satisfyingly.

“… Uhh…. Yeaaaaaaaaaahhhh….” The count blinks rapidly, confused by this random woman’s audacity and he glares a bit at the empty wine glass. He then fake coughs making nodding gestures to tell her to get lost. But she ignores it, her smiling growing ever wider.

Under her mask, Rhemi had the sourest pointed expression as her fake Aunt tenderly held her stiff shoulders. Despite the girl’s protest, the woman did a great job ignoring it as she gave the count a very sharp look with her fierce yellow eyes with a wide fake toothy smile. “Oh! Rhemi, my sweet!! This is Count Lucio!”

The girl turns her head slightly to Athena matching her toothy fake shit eating grin as she discreetly nudges her abdomen. “I know who he is... We were already talkin—” 

“—Count!!…” Athena sharply cuts her student off, pulling her even closer. Rhemi grumbles and tightens her fist at her sides looking rather mortified. “... Have you met my lovely sixteen year old niece?? Her name is Rhemi…She’s also my apprentice!!”

“-Athenaaa!!!” Rhemi harshly whispers through her gritted teeth dropping her lips into a deep frown.

The count smiles back towards Rhemi with an eyebrow raised looking her up and down again. “Well actually we were just having a wonderful private conversa—” But suddenly his words died as he realized the word ‘sixteen’ was highly emphasized. “-Wait… you’re…?!” He squawks rather loudly. The poor girl looks like she just wants to disappear from this earth, praying no one else was witnessing this exchange from afar. His silver eyes widened wildly and sweat dripped down his temple and he finally caught onto the death glare Athena was giving under her fake smile and why. He takes a step back placing the empty cup down on a nearby planter as he nervously fumbles, “Si—sixteen?? Ya—ya d-don’t say!! Hahah!!… Oopsies! Is it–heehee!!—is it getting hot in here??” An anxious chuckle erupts behind his lips, but then sinks lower under the woman's rather unenthusiastic stare. 

“Indeed…” Athena hisses, continuously wearing that large smile so she didn’t make a scene.

Then clears his throat wiping the sweat off his forehead, pulling off some of his makeup, and downing the rest of his own drink in one large gulp. “... Ohhh!! Is that Valerius calling me over that way?? I’M COMING, VALERIUS!!~ Hahaha!!” Consul Valerius just stands in the far corner staring at the Count with a confused and annoyed look and he shrugs and shakes his head. The count then places his empty glass down to the planter next to the other and hastily shakes Athena's hand and limply shakes Rhemi’s wrist with his thumb and pointer fingers as if she had a disease. “—Weeeeelp!! Lovely to meet you both!–Been a pleaser!!—Do hope you both enjoy the party!! But duty calls!!—Ta-Ta!!” He hastily blurts out as he finally makes his escape looking utterly mortified, disappearing from the memory.

Muriel couldn’t help but snort at Athena’s protective nature, liking the deceased woman more and more. Then a sad feeling washed over him. She always tried to engage in conversation with him back in the colosseum. At the time, he never thought it was worth trying to get to know her, then he completely forgot all about her. Only now in this moment, he really was regretting it.

Under the mask, Rhemi’s skin was completely crimson from the utter embarrassment, but Athena just glared at the count’s direction with disgust. “Hmmmf…. Connard…” The woman muttered.

“Why’d you do that?? We were just talking!!” Rhemi shrieks, finally pulling her shoulders away from her guarden’s grasp.

“And he is nearly double your age, Rem!” She replies, swiftly grabbing the crease of Rhemi’s elbow and spins the girl back round so she’d look her in the eye. 

“…. What??” She scoffs sounding rather bratty as she pulls her arm free again, then folds them quickly and gives a sassy pose. “…He just said that I was pretty… What’s the problem with that?!”

“Rhemi…. mon petit oiseau. That isn’t the point… How many times have I told you that–”

“–We were just talking!! Last time I checked, I wasn’t a child anymore!! Yet you treat me like a freakin’ infant!!! And I was handling myself perfectly fine! Then you had to just charge in, ruining everything all of a sudden!”

Athena sighs exhaustedly, “Rhemi… sweetie. He thought you were a lot older—”

“–So? Isn’t it a good thing he thinks I’m mature? And I am mature for my age…”

“You’re sixteen, Rhemi. You should be treated like a sixteen year old. Not a grown consenting adult!” 

“—Yeah? Well–You made me look like a goddamn fool!! Now he’s gonna tell his friend over there how freakin’ ridiculous I am… I’m going to be the butt end of everyone’s jokes!! I’ll never be able to show my face anywhere now!”

“What do you mean??... Don’t be ridiculous! You’re wearing a mask—” Athena’s face softens and she tilts her head seeing Rhemi’s eyes becoming wet under her mask. She really did feel deeply embarrassed, but really, it should have been the count to feel embarrassed in this situation. The girl’s shitty attitude would normally make any parent react poorly, but being the graceful woman that Athena was understanding. “... I never meant to embarrass you… and I know you want to be seen as an adult.  But… this isn’t the way to do it.” The girl flares her nostrils and sneers, her gaze towards the marble floor. Athena then lovingly tucks stray hair out of Rhemi’s face placing it behind her ear, and runs her finger under her jawline and turns her head back towards her. Empathetic to her feelings, she cups her adopted daughter’s face. “We need to be careful with anyone of nobility. I know it’s been a long time, but it doesn’t mean we’re completely safe…. Besides… Your mother wanted me to–”

Rhemi suddenly swats Athena’s hands away with a hard scoff having just enough with the mention of her mother. “ —Ya know what! Whatever….” She dismissively mutters, ripping herself away and she walks the opposite direction.

Athena’s shoulder drops, feeling defeated despite her good intentions (and not really doing anything wrong). “Rem!! Where are you going??”

“To get some punch!!!” She half shouted waving her off. “… And away from you!” She grumbles under her breath.

The poor teacher pulls up her falcon mask and rubs her now throbbing temples as she pushes out another tired sigh. “… Les dieux m’aident avec cetted fille….” She mumbles under her breath. Deciding to let the child cool off, Athena pulls her mask back down as customers approach the booth. She was selling various masks for the ball. She then suddenly disappears from the memory. 

The hermit pounders about exiting the door yet again, but finds himself stuck as he watches Rhemi stomping furiously over to the refreshment table, grumbling incoherent things under her breath and doing her best to keep eyes dry. It seemed like she really was always a bit of a hot head, but even more so then.

She stood there angrily for a moment, then placed her back against the nearby wall, watching the dance floor come to life as a lively waltz began. Now looking like she felt awkward and confused, Rhemi shrink into herself contemplating whether or not Athena was valid as she interrupted Lucio’s flirtatious conversation. It’s true, Rhemi did look a lot older than she really was, and that kind of attention and admiration must have been rather new and exciting for a young girl to feel at that crucial age. She often felt so plain compared to other women. It also sounded like Florence had already passed away, poor Rhemi must have felt so lost without her.

In the midst of her deep pondering, out from the left corner, a boy in his late teens or early twenties came into view. He was tall, had brown hair, wore a blue and silver outfit and sported a wolf mask. He had a shitty grin as he reached out for her hand. Once she notices him, she shutters as she retracts herself out of his reach, taken off guard by this sudden person invading her space. Realizing what he wanted, she then shakes her head with a fake grin, trying to let him down easily. But for some reason he stayed. Refusing to take the hint, he smiles stupidly rolling his eyes at her shyness, forcefully grabbing her left forearm rather tightly, “Come on, pretty little pigeon~” Her eyes widen by that phrase and she visually holds her breath and stiffens as a thousand different emotions run across her face. “Come ooooon! Dance with me–” This random boy demands, tugging her towards the dance floor. For a moment she just pulls back resisting, but then he tugs even harder as he moves his other hand towards her waist. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you a good time, little wall flower–” Suddenly her brow furiously furrows; she lunges forwards baring her teeth, she hisses and spits at him like a rabid animal and she finally manages to pull her arm free. Automatically, he retreats his hands as he scowls, disgusted by her strange out of pocket rejection. “–Da fuck is your problem, bitch?! Fine! Be that way…” He grumbles walking away. Rhemi stares him down, puffing out her chest as he walks out of the memory. Once out of sight, she finally relaxes and starts breathing again, lightly rubbing the wrist where he was pulling her. He did handle her rather roughly, and her skin burned.

“Well…” A familiar airy chuckle emanatest behind a fox mask standing a couple of feet right next to her, laughing at her strange yet affective surliness. And a young Asra appears by the food table. “… That’s one way to keep ‘em away.”

Muriel then can’t help but smile as he sees his young friend. This was around the time he became a gladiator and Asra was on his own, and he stopped seeing each other for a good while.

In typical Rhemi fashion, her bottom lip popped out a bit and she gave him a quick glance looking him up and down, sneering prudishly. “Hmmf… Too bad it didn’t work for yo—” Suddenly Rhemi notices his unbuttoned satchel that hangs from his hip. It was filled to the brim of yummy finger foods swiped from the grazing table. Her face softens and an eyebrow raises rather amused. “Wait…. Are you…? Stealing food from the buffet??” She whispers, stepping a few feet closer. She leaned in, covering her mouth with her left hand. 

Asra’s body stiffens like a board and his eyes fly open as they dart left and right auspiciously and a small knowing grin creeps into the corners of her lips. “Whaaaaat?? Nooo!” She could see his cheeks warming up and he cracks a nervous but cool smile tugging his bag behind his back, and quickly closes it. He clears his throat as he casually pops a cucumber sandwich into his mouth, enjoying the crunch, trying his best not to look suspicious. “Who’d do such a thing??”

The young Rhemi stares up at him, leaning her weight into the wall again as she smiles mischievously and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah… Riiiiight…” Asra then sees a nearby guard with a wary expression as it beamed on the young magician. Quick to notice the guard walking over, Rhemi giggles and trundles over to the table and grabs a small sandwich. Effortlessly, she makes herself look natural as she stands next to Asra’s side, obscuring the bag from view as the guard passes by. “...Don’t worry…. Not a rat.” She whispers. As the guard finally turns his attention away and moves towards some rowdy dancers in the other room, the young magician relaxes and leans lazily on the table. He was rather close to her now, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. The teenager then spins around whimsically, suddenly handing her a cup of wine that he had apparently swiped off of a servant’s silver platter. She stares at the glass rather surprised by his quick hands. “I’m actually only sixteen...” She says pushing the glass back towards him.

“So am I~” He chuckles and lies (he was a year younger than her), pushing it back towards her. “... But I’m not a rat either.” He gave her a smooth wink with a smoldering grin as he took a long sip of his own wine cup.

She smiles cutely as she takes the cup discreetly and sips it, pretending that she knew what she was doing. Taken off guard by the bitter taste she grimaces as she looks at the red liquid disgustedly. How could a liquid be so dry?? 

“GAH!! Thought it was gonna taste better.” He laughs at her childish expression and she hands him back the glass as he gulps it down without flinching. The two stay there for a moment listening to the music playing, and she finds herself staring at his fluffy white hair feeling like she’s seen it once before.  “Say—Have we… met once?” She asks as she lifts her mask up to reveal her face. “I feel like I’ve seen you before… Maybe at the beach—?”

Asra looks down at her with his head tilted, gazing at her rather dumbfounded and he blushes even harder, completely forgetting what she had just asked.

“Ummm….” She shrinks into herself under his purple gaze and she slips the mask back over her face. “Do I…. have something on my face?” She anxiously mutters as she rubs her mouth with her sleeve.

“Hmm?? OHH! N-noo!!” He finally answers, still staring stupidly with stars in his eyes. “... Sorry…. You're just… you have really pretty eyes.” She looks back into his gaze, feels rather flattered and smiles creeps back into her face. He places the cup down at the table and bows a bit rather courteously. “I’m Asra… Asra Alnazer.” Then he lifts his mask to reveal his pretty face, decorated in light purple shimmering eye shadow and a plum bronzer to emphasize his beautiful features. “And you are?”

As he stands back to his feet and she returns a curtsy with a cute laugh. “Rhemi…. Rhemi Niamh.”

As the band then changed to a folk song, Muriel knew exactly what song this was. It was one of Rhemi’s favorite northern dances. And he could see as her face brightens and she sways and hums to the rhythm. Asra smiles softly and gives her another half bow, “Well, Rhemi Niamh… Would you, um…. Would you like to dance with me?”

Rhemi bats her eyelashes staring at his open hand, unsure how to feel about it. “You don’t have to… if you don’t want to… We can just keep talking… I just… don’t want to stop talking to me… You’re the only person I’ve enjoyed talking to all night…”

With that, she grins even more, gracefully giving him her hand. “You know what…. I’d love to, Asra.” 

His face lights up and cheeks brighten as he gently holds her hand leading her to the floor. As the next part of the song starts, the two dance, they were fantastic together. They lit up the dance floor with their skillful movements, matching one another’s energy completely. Muriel smiled a bit, he knew Rhemi was a good dancer, he didn’t know she was that good. By the end of the dance the two huffed and puffed and laughed as the crowd all clapped. As the musicians continue to the next song, it seems to be a slower waltz, and the two nod and bow to begin again. Asra leans Rhemi back towards the center of the floor and they take their positions. 

Finally she asks, “…. Say… aren’t you that kid that keeps giving out fortunes behind our shop?”   

“Ohhh…I–.. Uuuuuhhhh—”

Asra’s words fade as the lights die and Muriel ducks out the door right before the memory ends. There was some smoke inside this memory, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as others. As the lights dim signaling that the memory was over.

Muriel takes in a large breath of air before opening the door back towards the hallway. As he shuts the door to this memory, he realizes that the hallway was empty. Next to this door was another one that was an ugly green and jagged door that was cracked. Asra must have been in there. The mountain man then ducks inside of it quietly and stands by his friend and they both watch this memory. 

Rhemi and Asra were in their late teens, maybe early twenties. Either way, it was a few years after the masquerade when Asra started living at the shop. They were both in the reading room in the back and it seemed to be about an argument. 

The apprentice sat in the chair watching as Asra got dressed. “So… You’re going out to hang with them?... All night??” She asks as her nails dig into the wooden table as a thought crosses her mind. This must have not been too long after she went to the colosseum, her hair was short and she even had the same lapis blue strapless shirt, but without the overcoat.

“Yeah!” Asra replies excitedly as he hastily throws on a pretty shirt that clearly belonged to Athena. Despite his chipper attitude, Rhemi seemed keen on being opposed to him as she scowled there, pouting as he tried to decide on which scarf to wear. “... We met the other day and we talked for hours!! We had a lot of fun! They wanna learn magic too!! Rem! You wouldn’t believe how funny they are! We had such a good time— probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time!” He says without thinking how it sounded as he brushes his hair in a nearby mirror, (which he almost never did).

Rhemi furrows her brow even more and shrinks into herself with a huff resting her chin on her knuckle. “Oh really?... Didn’t realize how bad you had it here…” 

Finally noticing her poutiness in the reflection, Asra smiles, rolls his eyes and sighs as he places the hairbrush down then turns to face her. “Oh come on, party-pooper. You know what I meant! I always have fun with you~… I’d think you’d like them! I mentioned you as well and they said they’d like to meet you…you’re more than welcome to come out with us–”

“–Yeeeeeeeaaaah…”  She quickly shoots down with a snooty tut. “..Hard freakin’ pass… no thanksss.” Her head turns away to face the other side of the room spitefully.

Feeling somewhat guilty and also amused with her scornful jealousy, he snickers to himself. He looks at the back of her head a bit longer before thinking of what to do. Finally he walks over, then lazily drapes across the reading table, laying right where she was sitting. There wasn’t any way she could try and ignore him now. He smiles charmingly as he strikes a playful pose with his shirt unbuttoned and looking rather dashing as he lays on his side and uses his arm to prop up his head. “Ya know…For someone who is as talkative with random people in the shop or in town, you’re reaaaally bad at making friends~”

Unable to look away from his bare chest, she silently flounders in her chair for a moment as she looks away trying her best to hide her blushing and fumbles her words. “Yeahh–Well….” She pauses for a moment thinking of a comeback. In an instant, as if she flipped a switch, she snaps herself out of her sudden flustering as a mischievous smirk twitches up in the left corner of her lips and she leans into him, just inches away from his face and bats her eyelashes as she whispers sweetly. “... Who needs more friends when I have you?” 

Asra flutters his long white eyelashes slightly jolting at her sudden shift. He swallows hard as she sensually wraps her hands around the collar of his shirt pulling him closer. Pink stains his face and he holds his breath as she slowly leans into him looking rather seductively.

Muriel tries his best, but you could see him tense up uncomfortable with her being so familiar with Asra. It stings seeing the love of your life being cozy with anyone other than yourself… Let alone, with your childhood crush. He wasn’t a jealous person, but it still wasn’t easy to watch, and it honestly made him very confused.

The teenaged Asra softly closes his eyes as he parts his lips leaning back into her. A devilish expression takes over her face as she smiles wider and her eyes have a wild twinkle in them. Suddenly, in one movement, she scoots her body over to the right, shoving the poor thing to the ground. He lets out a soft but distinctive, “–Ooof!!!” as he crashes rather unceremoniously to the wooden floorboards chest first.

A gitty yet cruel giggle emits from her lips. “... God knows you're enough of a handful.” She snickers with an eyebrow raised as she leans her arm on the table triumphantly as she peers down at her white-haired friend. The poor thing lays there on the floor for a moment looking rather embarrassed. 

Muriel couldn’t help but chuckle to himself a bit but makes sure that his friend or the other Rhemi doesn't see him. He even said something similar once before about having friends… His friend stares at the memory looking like he was dumbfounded as if he was watching this for the first time. 

Finally, the young Asra gathers himself and stands to his feet and dusts himself off. He then holds the back of Rhemi’s chair firmly, as he leans towards her face with a half crossed expression. He seemed a bit flustered and a bit hurt, but he doesn’t lose his smug smirk as he pulls the chair closer to him. It seemed like he wanted to ask what that was for, but then seemed to decide against it. “Soooo… You really think that I shouldn’t have other friends?” He asks, returning to the conversation. 

“... Never said that…” Her reddish brown eyes darken as her brow furrows and her smirk falls as she turns away from him sheepishly. “....Ijustdon’tunderstandwhyI’mnotenough…” She mutters that last part under her breath.

His shoulders hike up as his smile falls. “Okay then…. You are passively aggressively implying that…” He leans in closer and scrunches his face and his eyelid twitches a bit still holding his now fake smile somehow.

“—Holyshitmotherfucker… –Asra, you can do whatever you want…okay?? You’re a grown ass person aren’t you??” She barks as she crosses her legs and arms away from him and she looks to the floor a bit childishly and waves her hand dismissively. “—Just go on and have fun with your new friend. Don’t worry… your old friend will just be here waiting…”

“The hell is your prob–” Asra stops himself from snapping back as he takes in a breath and stands back tall as he rubs his irritated face thinking about how he wanted to frame this. “Rem… I am inviting you to come with us! I genuinely think they'd like to meet you, and I think you’d like them too!… So, you’re not being left out–”

“—Oh yeah!! Riggggght! How could I possibly not want to go?? ” She scoffs sarcastically. The chair drags on the floorboards as she stands up from her chair and gives him a sneer. “... Because this friend of yours is totally gonna buy that I’m not a third wheel, or not think that I’m a weird sheltered freak that likes only books and spells, ooooorrrr not think that I talk too much or too little!!” 

With a defeated expression, Asra glares at her as he deflates into himself. “Rhemi you’re not–”

 “—And they’re definitely gonna believe that I wasn’t a last minute pity-invited… Because they totally ‘want to meet me’!!” Rhemi's face falls into a tight frown as she folds her arms and sticks out her bottom lip as she leans her hip against the table. “…Don't be full of shit, Asra… It’s just insulting. If you’re gonna go, then just go!” She waves him off dismissively.

Asra stares at her tilting his head and sighs hard, unsure what to do. She could be so difficult sometimes. 

Now that he watches this memory again, Asra had forgotten how jealous and possessive she could really be back then. ‘Was she really like that?’ He thinks back to himself. He didn't remember it going exactly that way. He remembered it more fondly, like she was being cutely clingy, but this was nearly a decade ago, he could only guess that details can become so muffled sometimes. But this was also her memory, not his. 

Back in the memory, the young Asra inhales and lifts his hand towards her about to say something. “Rhemi—”

–WOOOSHHHH!!!!!

But suddenly the other Rhemi rips the two out of the room with her wings and slams the door kicking up a cloud of ash. Dazed, the two blink rapidly swatting away the smoke as she walks away in a huff. “Hey…” Asra grumbles a bit. “We were watching tha–”

“—Yeah.... It’d be great if you two were actually helping and not snooping…” She says snarkily without looking at either one of them. Her voice was heavily irritated as she just kept looking in another door, then shuts it. “These ones are open too??” She grumbles to herself. “… No wonder Rhemi got overwhelmed…”

The two friends look at each other upset at not finishing the memory, but as they both thought about it, she was right. This wasn’t the time to reminisce or eavesdrop on her memories. This was about finding their Rhemi so she could wake back up. 

Opening a violet door, Muriel sees a younger twenty-year-old Rhemi as she is being scolded by Athena and she rolls her eyes hard. “You’re not my mother, Athena!! YOU’RE NOT EVEN MY AUNT!!” She screams to her guardian. Athena stares at her with hurt eyes and Rhemi starts to recoil into herself immediately regretting what she said, but doesn’t seem to take it back. This seemed interesting, but Muriel starts to shut the door, not sensing anything. It didn’t help that this whole place all smelled like Rhemi. Not to mention that the other Rhemi’s scent was rather overbearing.

The ghostly apparition seemingly grew more and more impatient and frustrated as she opened and closed the other unlocked door. “... GODS! This one too?! That little brat is really starting to piss me off!”

“Who?” Muriel asks.

The dying spector huffs as she shuts another door angrily. “... This may be confusing… but— There's…. There’s another Rhemi here…” the two friends quickly shoot glances at one another both with matching wide-eyed expressions. “…She’s a kid…. eleven years old, wearing a fancy pink dress–.”

“—Has a hole in her chest..?” Muriel interjects.

His words finally grabbing her attention away from the doors, she stops in her tracks and looks at him with her sickly red eyes. “... How’d you know that?’’

Asra rubs the back of his head and groans. “She was giving us the run around for a while…”

“Yeah… before we ran into you…” Muriel adds, folding his arms.

“God….DAMNIT! YOU DIDN’T THINK TO MENTION—?!” Smoke and fire billows out of her mouth as she stifles a cough and slams another door closed and she clutches her fist so hard, it tries to fall apart again. But then she takes a deep breath trying to calm herself, and uses her magic to repair herself once again, and she walks back over to the pair, hands clasped together. “...Well?... Where was she??” 

“… Same memory where we met you…” Muriel grumbles back not appreciating her tone. 

The red veins in her face start to glow brighter bellowing hot coals, obviously on a short fuse.

Asra darts between the two as they begin to banter back and forth. These two fought before, but nothing intense like this. It reminded him of their argument back in the colosseum cells, and he shrinks into himself unsure whether or not to intervene or to let them resolve this themselves.

“... Ya’ didn’t think to stop her??” Rhemi shifts her weight onto her left hip and folding her arms tightly to mirror the tall man’s posturing.

“... N-... NO! We didn’t…” Muriel growls back with a hint of an animalistic bearish groan under his words.

A bit of hot smoke blows out of her flared nostrils and the embers on her body burn brighter. “And why the fuck not?!” 

Muriel blinks a couple of times, dumbfounded by her audacity and he stands over her casting a dark shadow over her. “We tried!!! Besides—we had no idea where we were or what was happening here until you decided to finally show up!... And what’s your excuse?? You said you've been here for almost four years! You were in there before we were—Why haven't YOU caught her yet??”

The dying Rhemi opens her mouth to rebuttal, the argument ceases as she has a surprise coughing fit followed by a dry sounding heave. Hastily, she covers her mouth with both hands before she turns her head away from her guests and her face twists sickeningly. Luckily, she manages to hold it all in as she runs over to the guardrailing because the second her head leans over, a plume of hot smoke pours out of her like a old sickly dragon. She coughs up what looks like hot coalish embers before a wet substance finally shoots out of her mouth. A sluggish tar expels from behind her lips, unable to stop herself, she spits it out and it falls to the bottom floor with a disgusting squishy sounding plop. Her nails dig into the wooden railing as her legs start to give out and sink down to the floor.

All the frustration in Muriel’s face evaporates as he quickly comes to her aid. Gently he steadies the poor thing’s shoulders and even holds her hair as she continues to expel this fiery ash and sluggish tar. It stinks of death and burnt coal, but he doesn’t budge from her side as he tenderly comforts her while she continues to retch and vomit this disgusting filth. 

After getting it all out, she stands there for a moment. Trying to catch her raspy labored breath, she leans all her weight on the guardrail trembling. With her pride wounded, she tries not to look either of the two in the eyes and she attempts to hide her blushing cheeks (but it’s not like anyone could tell from the broken blood vessels and embers in her face). She wanted nothing more than to continue that argument with Muriel, but she knew he was right. Besides, the moment is gone, and she was just angry and wanted to project her frustrations anyways. Vexed, she shakes her head and slams her frail fist into the rickety handrail, but as soon as she does, she finds herself even more exhausted, so she hangs over it. “FUCK! That little shit!!” She shouts with her raspy sick voice. Sluggishly her fist unclenches as she finally catches her breath and she rests her forehead to the railing's wood.  “... I wasn’t supposed to be here this long…” She mumbles under her breath.

Carefully, Muriel tucks her thin brittle hair behind her ear as he beams down at her with his concerned gaze, his hand still firmly anchored to her shoulder. “... You… ok, Rem?”  

Regathering their remaining strength, the other Rhemi glances her red eyes up at him. Once she looks at his handsome face, the anger dissipates and she feels her face heating up again, but this time for a different reason. She blinks a few times, taken aback by his sweet concern, her eyes then follow his arm to where he was connected to her. “Uuuuhhh…” She utters awkwardly, her voice still hoarse. 

Realizing themselves, his arm detaching from her shoulder and the two of them backed away from each other awkwardly without another word. 

Muriel grimaces at himself once again. He kept reminding himself that this wasn’t his Rhemi, so part of him felt like he was somehow cheating on her. But he also couldn’t help it. He loved Rhemi with every fiber of his being. And even though this wasn’t exactly his soon to be wife, he couldn't escape these feelings. Even this version of her now, he has this intense indescribably emotion. He never noticed it before, and if he did he thought it was an annoyance, but now he wasn’t so sure.

The other Rhemi quickly rubbed the back of her neck and poorly pretending not to care. But feeling the intense love in his eyes and in his caring touch was affecting her. Even though she was dead, these sudden emotions were strong and honestly felt rather overwhelming. Despite all her past relationships, this feeling was foreign to her.

With a painful labored inhale, she straightens herself back up and sighs, “Come along…let’s forget about the brat for now…” With a wave of her hands she summons a bit of her magic and a strange humming rings all around them. With a flick of her wrist, she makes the three of them suddenly transport to the second floor. With the sudden shift and movement, the two guests stood there, feeling slightly dazed and nauseous for a minute, leaning onto the wall so they could get equilibrium back. The unfazed other Rhemi starts walking deeper into the mansion, not waiting for her guests to get their footing.

Once Asra gets back to his feet again, he shakes his head, helps Muriel to his feet and runs up to the other Rhemi. “So… Who is she?”

“Who?” She replies horsley.

“That other… other Rhemi, the little Rem… is that our Rhemi?” 

“Oh... She’s... umm… She…. ahhhhhhh…?” Thinking for a moment how to explain it, she stops mid stride and pinches the bridge of her nose, causing Asra to nearly crash into her. “... Ya know what? She doesn’t even matter right now. That's a more complicated answer than I feel like explaining…” She says starting to walk again.

“Ummm….. Vague…. But oooookaaaaay…” He replies feeling unsatisfied with that answer. “Then why are you upset at her opening the doors?”

Rhemi huffs, not wanting to answer any more questions, but now it was inevitable. “I used to be able to lock them back but lately… I can’t.”

“Well… is that why were you haunting Rhemi?” Muriel asks rather surly sounding. 

Rhemi scoffs. “I wasn’t ‘haunting’ her… Between that brat and her I’ve been kept here like a prisoner!! So if anyone is to blame in all of this it’s your Rhemi!!” Muriel’s brow furrows as she snarkily moves. Knowing that they were not pleased with that answer, she rolls her eyes and continues. “…. But to answer your question, I was trying to get her to remember things slowly. But then, as you have seen, that little shit kid has been opening the doors all at once… the little shit started doing that back when you went to the south for some reason…. Now with memories coming back, and the tar going crazy…”

“–The tar?” Asra interrupts.

“... What tar?” Muriel asks firmly, not liking the sound of this.

“Look, I don’t know! It's tar! It’s just kind of always freakin’ been here!... Sometimes it comes from the walls, the doors, or even the ceiling. Sometimes it comes out of me—But other than that glob, I can’t find it lately.”

“What do you mean you can’t find it lately?? Where would it go??” Asra asks, looking all around expecting something to possibly jump out at him.

“I don’t know!!!” She squawks exhaustively, rubbing her face with both hands, overwhelmed with these questions. “–It used to just sit around looking gross!! But then, it decided it had a mind of its own and it started to move by itself!!”

“What do you mean ‘a mind of its own’?!” Panic starts to resonate in Muriel’s voice along with the anger. He then glances down at the bottom floor looking for the blob of tar that she just vomited, but to his dismay, it was no longer there. It did however leave a rather distinctive black sticky looking splatter down on the shredded carpet down below. 

“UUUGH!!! It’s hard to explain!!” She shouts as smoke bellows out her throat again and she stops for a moment to breathe again. She sure did that a lot… “It doesn’t matter why the tar is moving! The point is …The tar… may… have taken your Rhemi in a dream… and… now I can’t find it anymore–”

“–What?!”

“… Are you serious??” The two half shout simultaneously looking completely mortified.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? WE’VE BEEN HERE FOR HOURS NOW!!” The magician shrieks, his finger entangles in his curly white hair. “WE WOULD HAVEN’T HAVE BEEN JUST FUCKING AROUND IN MEMORIES!!”

“Tsssh.... She could be anywhere! Including the memories…” She answers with a casual huff, as if she was annoyed that they were so emotional with this revolation. 

“… Is that why you asked us to come here?” Muriel asks, but Rhemi just pretends to not hear him as she continues to walk away. This was exactly why she didn't want any questions. Unsure whether to keep her silence, she stares at the floor until something black catches her eyes. They were faint, but she could see it, a pair of dirty little black footprints. She looked closely, as there were more, the brat finally left her some breadcrumbs. The past Rhemi smiles to herself, seemingly having another clue again. But then a frown returns as she realizes where they were leading down towards a particular wing that was otherwise obscured from view and hidden. A sickening feeling returns to the ghost’s dead intestines as she slowly realizes that the wing was no longer hidden and the footprints lead right down it. The past Rhemi then sprints down towards a different wing of the mansion, following the trail and leaving Muriel and Asra in the dust.

“Hey!” Muriel grumbles, shrugging looking confused. He watches as she starts to turn down a random hallway without even a glance. The pair then gave each other knowing glances before they followed, they almost had to run to catch up with her. When they finally did, the hermit, now heavily irritated that she blatantly ignored him, stomps over to her with his large feet. “....Hello??” He grumbles following her just a few feet away behind her. Suddenly she stops in her tracks as she stares down another hallway that branched off this wing. “... You even listen-…?” His words die as he see what she was staring at. Down this twisted wing rested this hallway where what looked to be a heavy volt door rested. Inside, the hallway was completely different. No carpet, no wallpaper, no nothing. It was a dead end with gray and dimly lit walls that split off into two opposite directions like a T. The heavy volt door layed on the ground in shambles, left over black tar dripping from the hinges. “...Ing?..” He quietly finished his sentence. 

The past Rhemi shakes her head slowly as she just stares at all the damage taking a step closer. “No no no no no…. Noooo! Fuck! This is bad!” Her fingers lightly brush against the broken steel then she shrinks back into herself. “.... When did this even happen?….”

“.... What’s this place??” Asra mutters as he finally catches up with the other two. He too runs his fingers over the broken vault door. The metal was twisted and jagged as if there was an explosion.  

“... Suppressed and repressed memories….” As she takes another step, a disgusting sounding squish emanates under her foot. She glances down retracting her foot back in disgust and sneers. “... And that little brat just opened them all up.” She could only watch as the small glob of tar sluggishly slinked towards the inside of the volt. 

“…. Don’t think this was her…” Muriel mutters scanning the reminisce of the tar all around, he then crutches down looking at the busted door. The vault actually looks like it was broken from the inside out. It was just like the front doors were, but strangely, this appears like the tar went back inside of this place. “... Guess we found the tar…” He says as he slowly stands back to his feet.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT! These memories aren't like the others!” The dead Rhemi mummers with a look of panic.

“What do you mean??” Asra asks, looking back at her.

“These memories are locked up for a reason!! They have no order to them, they’re just chao–” A large rumble shakes the entire manor, killing her train of thought.

All they’re eyes travel over to the interior of the vault where the movement was emanating. The rumbling grew louder and louder. It confused Asra and Muriel at first, but then they realized–These were footsteps. 

All three just stared in silence, frozen, waiting for whatever was coming to show itself. From the left corner a huge black oozing hand-like thing dings its digits into the gray hallway wall with a low inhuman gurgling grumble. Sluggishly it comes out revealing its disgusting self. The three are helpless but just watch this monstrosity and they collectively breathe as he slinks itself into the center of the gray hallway. It had multiple heads in its body, but the main one on top was clearly Martin’s silhouette with his neatly kept slicked back hair. It had to be about well over twenty feet tall and had hundreds of hands, but only had four limbs which it walked on. The inhuman noises were accompanied by strange voices which muttered to themselves. There were more than a dozen voices, they didn’t quite sound human, but they were saying some terrible things.

Asra steps back with his fists at the ready. “What–What is that??” He whispers to his friends. 

“... Trouble…” The dead Rhemi answers.

The monster’s neck cracks sharply as all its eyes beams straight at the three of them. It hisses and stares for a moment unpredictably gazing at them. The other Rhemi takes a single step back and the monster charges straight for them on all fours grunting and growling wildly.    

“RUN!!!!” Muriel yells, reaching out his arms to pull Asra and the past Rhemi into his chest to protect them from the charge. But no one was able to react in time, and before any of them knew what happened, they found themselves swimming in the black liquid, choking on the disgusting substance. 

They were all swimming inside of its body.

✨To be continued...

(Jesus Christ. I am sorry for making this update so long! I had a few weeks that got super hectic for me! I am still trying to get this out there on a regular basis, but as life keeps showing me, shit happens and I can not make promises! But anyways..)

Thanks for reading my hot garbage!

[dumplingsfordays]

eyes are the windows of the soul

++++

ok so hihi, first time writing stuff for a fandom...

this one's kinda self indulgent because (cough cough) dainsleif (cough cough) anyways

i don't think i mentioned any female anatomy but reader's pronouns are she/her and she works at a coffee shop! so yeah

also lots and lots of pining from reader because dainsleif is absolutely perfect

(but you can apply this to any other blonde, blue-eyed reserved man if you want to bc his name isn't mentioned)

umm yeah so not proofread!!, might be mistakes / errors so feel free to correct! english is not my first language so i'm sorry if i make any mistakes. also written in third person.

art found on pinterest through @cartavaya_vorona, i couldn't find the original artist (sorry!)

++++

The more (y/n) fell in love with him, the more her desire to truly understand him grew.

He was mysterious, reserved. They hadn't even talked, but (y/n)'s gaze always lingered on his long, dark blue cloak when he would pass by the counter while the customer in front of her ordered their coffee. She would fumble with the trays of freshly-baked lemon tarts when his image came into her mind - gorgeous blonde hair, deep cerulean eyes which she could never make eye contact with, but he was always expressionless. His smile, by far, was the most puzzling thing about him, and (y/n) was determined to uncover that mystery, whatever it took. She'd always make sure his order was right, make little jokes when she'd bring his coffee and food to the small table in the corner where he always sat, but none of those things seemed to work. He just always thanked her, politely but quietly, still with that neutral expression on his face, and resumed reading whatever book he was holding, to her dismay.

This happened routinely for around two months now. He would come in, usually between six to seven in the afternoon, and order a medium cappuccino with no sugar and a quiche. He'd sit down and eat, and when the café closed at eight, he would thank (y/n) with a simple nod before exiting.

But on one calm, late September evening, when the sun painted the sky in brilliant shades of red and orange and purple that poured through the windows like molten gold, when (y/n) stood behind the counter, washing the used coffee cups in the sink, when the man that she'd been thinking of at that moment entered the café, he came up to her and waited silently until she would see him.

(y/n) sensed his presence, and swiveled her head around to meet his gaze. However, this time, she couldn't look away. Her (e/c) eyes widened.

She felt so heavy, and yet so light at the same time, like she was drifting along a cold river, and staring upwards at the sky. It was littered in multicolored stars, with the bright full moon hanging to the left of her vision, and when she felt a particularly cold current sweep past her, she felt a twinge of pain, of etherealness, of tainted purity, and her heart began to throb in a sort of sweet bitterness. She blinked, and was back in this world, in her cafe.

“Oh, hello,” she said, cringing inwardly as she looked away, at the wooden surface of the counter. She was probably staring before. “Would you like your usual?”

“No, actually.” (y/n) spotted him twiddling his thumbs in her peripheral vision. “I would like to try something new today. What is your favorite item on the menu?”

She paused. She didn’t expect this, not in a million years.

“Um… I'm actually not sure. I think I like all of them, but if I had to choose… I do really enjoy the éclairs.”

“I’ll have one of those then, please. And a cappuccino.”

“You sure love your coffee, huh?” (y/n) chuckled.

“I do.” The man nodded, and went to the seating area (which was surprisingly fairly empty), taking a seat at a table closer to the counter. At first, (y/n) didn't notice - she wanted to select the best éclair for him so he wouldn't think ill of her recommendation, and after she brewed the coffee and put everything on a thin wooden tray, she strode over to his usual seat by the window in the corner, but then noticed he wasn't there. She blinked in confusion a couple of times, before finally finding him sitting at a table that was still adjacent to the wall, but was one column closer to the counter. Trying to hide the fact that her face was light pink from embarrassment, she walked to his table and set everything down. She met his eyes again, but this time more shyly.

“Let me know if anything tastes bad.” She hated how her voice squeaked against her will just now.

“I will. Thank you,” he replied, and (y/n) could swear that she saw just the faintest glint of gentleness in his deep azure eyes. Giddly, and with a gigantic smile on her face, she smiled, and rushed off back to the counter with her head turned away. Jesus Christ, could she be any more obvious?

She speed-walked into the kitchen, sat down on a low stool across from one oven, and covered her (probably very) red face with her hands. Never before had the man shown any emotion, with the exception of mild frustration, and seeing his eyes slightly crinkle at the ends and sparkle with this sort of softness sent pleasant shivers down (y/n)'s spine. 

Eyes are truly the windows of the soul, she thought. 

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 9

WARNINGS: none

And so it begins.

You, Fred, and George find a dark corner to huddle close in where you won't be noticed, and the twins introduce you to "Project Nosebleed". You aren't surprised to learn that the goal is to fake an injury or illness to get yourself out of class. The twins are famous throughout Hogwarts for their Skiving Snack boxes which include Fever Fudge, Puking Pastilles, and Fainting Fancies. These new ones are called Nosebleed Nougats, a magical toffee designed to make the eater's nose bleed within seconds of eating it.

"We're so close," George says. You are distracted for a slight moment when he runs a hand through his red hair. "Just one or two things need improvement... Only, we can't figure out what those things are."

Fred hands you an orange toffee. "The first part works just fine. Take this, and your nose will bleed, guaranteed," he says, then hands you a purple toffee. "This one is supposed to make the bleeding stop, but we're not that far yet."

"Not very useful, is it?" you chuckle. "You'd end up visiting Madam Pomfrey, get fixed up, then be sent right back to class."

"Exactly," George agrees, taking both toffees from you and tucking them away into the pocket of his robes.

The hallway is suddenly filled with students. "Class must be starting," Fred says.

"What class have you two got?" you ask (you find it impressive that they always manage to get every single class together; you don't recall ever seeing one twin in class without the other).

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," the twins respond in unison.

"That's what I've got!" you exclaim excitedly.

Fred and George grin. "Brilliant!" they say together. And so the three of you head to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

You and the twins sit at the back of the class. The lady in pink is at the front, leaning against the edge of her desk and smiling tightly as the remaining students file in. You're relieved for once to not see Maddy in your class, or Malfoy for that matter.

"Good afternoon, students. I am Professor Umbridge," the lady in pink starts. "I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this school year. Please open your books to page one."

"Books?" Fred whispers.

Then you notice the thickly bound book on your desk in front of you, though you don't recall seeing it when you first sat down. It's titled, "Defensive Magical Theory". The same book sits on everyone else's desk.

"Theory of magic?" a student you don't know says uncertainly.

"As you can see," replies Professor Umbridge, smiling sweetly. You're not sure why, but you don't like the look on her face.

"We've never studied this before," you pipe up. "Why start now?" You try your best to sound polite and genuinely curious.

"This year, we are going for a..." Umbridge pauses for a second. "... safer approach. After considering this school's most recent Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, we wanted to create a low-risk environment in which students may feel comfortable learning."

"How are we supposed to learn how to defend ourselves if we're just going to be drooling over books every class?" Fred asks harshly.

"And who's 'we'?" asks George. "The Ministry?"

Umbridge's mouth twitches. "Students, please, raise your hand if you wish to speak." Then she deliberately turns her back to the class to shuffle with some papers on her desk as Fred and George raise their hands high, so she doesn't see them. "Open your books to page one and read till the end of page six."

Fred and George drop their hands. "I don't like this," Fred whispers.

"Me neither," says George.

You are bummed about Professor Umbridge's teaching methods, but you don't feel it's as big of a deal as the twins are making it seem.

"Don't worry. You could always use one of your Skiving Snackbox sweets if the class gets too boring," you chuckle quietly.

George shakes his head. "You don't understand..."

Professor Umbridge, who's now sitting behind her desk, flicks her wand without looking up from her papers, and the books on yours, Fred's, and George's flip open to page one.

[kindred-spirit-93]

salutations of peace!

welcome to this blog dedicated to the many, many thoughts wondering in the expansive meadows of my inner mind. we have:

fandom rambles

OC galore and random lore dumps

deep life thoughts TM

excerpts of books ill never write

memes, awful puns, wordplay my beloved, rants about anything and everything

music and art and language appreciation

vivid descriptions of things that would put ebony dark'ness dementia raven way to shame

and so much more! my vision for this blog is essentially a scrapbook of sweet wrappers, weird poetry, dried flowers, inexplicable blood drops from untraceable source(s), cute little doodles, coffee stains, all tied together with glitter glue and skull washi tape ^-^

so feel free to sit back with some snacks and watch me as i take apart my mind thought by thought and have epiphanies and shit :)

*:･ﾟ✧ but before all that, a few things:

the name of this blog, Memento Vivere, is latin for remember to live. you may be familiar with its more morbid counterpart, Memento Mori, remember you must die. the reason for this choice of phrase is that due to reasons, i sometimes have to remind myself to stop and live, to really smell the roses, to appreciate my short existence on this spinning rock in space. so this blog will be my escape, my breath of fresh air, my cup of mint earl grey on a rainy january morning.

*:･ﾟ✧ a lil about me lol:

british jordanian gen z hijabi, dont have social anxiety; social anxiety has me lol, sleep deprived, herbal teas, psychiatry

medical student, full time and life long learner, salty snacks are better than sweet treats there i said it, strawberry milk supremacy

chaotic academia aesthetic, cats, existential (and assorted) crises

main @lemedstudent2021 and oc blog @bright-side-of-the-moon feel free to drop by for a chat here there and everywhere ;)

*:･ﾟ✧ general rules and guidelines:

this blog aims to be a safe space for anyone and everyone, leave your prejudices at the door or dont bother coming in :)

youre all welcome to share thoughts and ideas and suggestions, please keep it halal tho (so pg-13 and mild language). in the very least label accordingly so those yet with innocence stay safe

hate and bullying and disrespect in all forms will not be tolerated, bigots and brain dead buffoons will be blocked on sight

that said, for what remains of my sanity; zionists and anti-vaxxers DNI (i will come after you and your essential oils)

if i remember anything ill add it later, for now bring your marshmellows were making s'mores on the dumpsterfire that is life

art by the wonderful @sunshines-child ^-^

[big-coyote]

hi!! this may be a weird thing to ask about but ive decided to make one of my longtime ocs a coyote therian (they were connected to coyotes since the beginning) and i wanted to ask if theres stuff i should avoid when talking abt them or doing character design?

ive done some research on my own looking thru tumblr blogs ran by therians mostly, but i mightve missed some stuff!

for now they show their theriantophy as either wearing a coyote looking onesie (which is the first outfit they ever had) or when wearing other clothes they have a tail keychain on their trousers, so i also wanted to ask if you know of any other things they could have to connect with their theriotype?

again im sorry if this is a weird question! <3

(1/2) Hello! Not a weird question at all, I’m actually very honored and happy you’ve asked! I have quite a number of OCs myself that are also therians or otherkin adjacent lol. Also if anyone else has any ideas they’d like to add/advice feel free to comment or reblog!

As for things you should ovoid I’d recommend straying away from the idea of therianthropy being inherently because of mental illness. While it’s totally okay for your Oc to struggle with mental health problems or other serious topics. I often see the stigma online where people assume being nonhuman or having a alterhuman identity means the person in question must have Schizophrenia, Dissociative Identity Disorder, psychosis, a delusional disorder, etc. And again while I know plenty of nonhumans who have those disorders (I have some of them) and that may effect their identities as a whole, it shouldn’t be the end all be all of their identity you know? Ovoid adding more stigma to both.

Another thing I’d stray away from is the idea of a character being a therian because of spirit animals or any mythology related to closed practices/groups. I’ve seen many indigenous people online speak about their discomfort with the word ‘spirit animal’ and how it’s been adopted into pop culture. Being alterhuman is much more then “I feel connected to this thing/this thing is just like me”, it runs much deeper then that and it is as much as a real identity as something like gender, sexuality, religion, etc. It should be taken with as much care and seriousness as those other identities because it is huge and important part to a lot of our lives.

Lastly I’d recommend avoiding making the character the butt end of the jokes. While the Oc themselves can be funny, have funny things happen to them or have funny experiences as a coyote Therian I’d ovoid making them the punching bag to other OCs. Online it’s not uncommon to see many people misunderstanding and mischaracterizing being nonhuman for a quick laugh. It be very disheartening if an OCs entire existence in a story is just “haha they think they’re a dog, that’s stupid”. Again it’s important to take any identity like being a Therian seriously instead of just being the punch line for a joke or gag.

As for the clothing I think the onesie would be incredibly cute and good to wear as well as the tail! Many therians wear tails, both real and faux fur ones, to feel connected to their identity and feel more comfortable. I’ve also known many therians who were things like jewelry with their theriotype on it, fake animal ears, t-shirts, rings, fur coats, earrings, pins/buttons, etc. Some also like collecting plushies or posters with their theriotype as well, or having stickers on their books or drawing them. Or if you’d prefer a more casual character design you could have a character who doesn’t wear any outward Therian gear and prefers to keep it low key. Both options are very valid and would be interesting to see!

But no matter what I’m sure your Oc is going to be amazing and I can’t wait to see them! Please tag me if you make any art or stories about them, or if you have any other questions feel free to ask again or DM me!

[sometimesrosy]

There is something that truly frightens me these days that teens and up are very unfreaked out about these days and it makes my eyes saucer big in shock. I'm on plenty of reading forums where "readers" say they forget the novels they read the second they finish them. They aren't concerned at all about it and when anyone starts to question it they describe reading as just walking past 100's of paintings in an art gallery and only enjoying the paintings for the length of time it took to look at them. Am I just showing my age to think this is nuts? Wasting time to not remember a thing. Then also think they are winning at life to go through a hundred books a year like this?

So I have a different take on this.

Remember please that as an English major, English teacher and writer, I am invested in paying attention to literature. It's a deep pleasure to analyze and understand stories and poems and essays solidly.

Saying that... that's not the only reason to read or the only way to read.

You're allowed to read just for pleasure. Just for the wild ride of the book and not have to be able to critically analyze it when you're done.

You're also allowed to read for escapism. This world is way crazier than it used to be, and we used to think the world was crazy forty years ago. Kids often don't have a lot of control over their lives and reading is a way where they get to feel more in control and/or safe.

When I was a teenager, I didn't read a hundred books a year. I read, oh, I'm guessing, four to five hundred books a year. I read 1-3 books A DAY.

Why?

One. I had a two hour commute both ways. Two. I didn't have money so reading was my entertainment. Three. I only had like seven tv channels, no streaming, no social media etc. And four, and the main reason. Reading was my coping strategy to deal with a difficult, scary and sometimes dangerous homelife.

Do I remember all the books I read as a teen? Absolutely not. I like to say that those books went into "the soup," and they certainly did. I don't remember them for particular narratives, but I remember general conventions, patterns, tropes, structures, timings, moods, themes, cultural expectations, etc. I credit that intense reading period with making me a writer. Reading became as natural as BREATHING.

Do you remember every breath you take? No, of course not.

Admittedly, it turns out that I have adhd, and that sort of hyperlexia is a trait of adhd and autism, so there's a reason for it. I'm not normal and never have been. But you're looking at reading patterns here that aren't normal either.

So these kids are addicted to books.

GREAT! Do you know what other kinds of things kids COULD be addicted to? So many bad things. Let them have their speed reading. Let them do PJO or their ACOTAR or their fanfics. I don't know what kids are reading today.

Reading is PRESCRIPTIVE. People read for what they need and what you may need-- a wider view of the world or intellectual stimulation or a hit of beautiful language-- may not be what these kids are reading for-- escapism, anxiety, entertainment. And neither of those reading needs are wrong.

I read like those kids when I was in high school. And I was one of the only ones I knew who did read that much. I think it's good that reading is cool because it wasn't in the 80s. BUT after I did that 6 year sff binge, I went to college and got a degree in English, and I did NOT read that much anymore. I read more slowly and wrote essays and analyzed books and chose new genres and talked about books and remembered quotes and all that. And I read more slowly for, oh, twenty years, until PTSD, ADHD, anxiety, chronic illness and stress got to me. And then I started binge reading again. Now the genre guarantees a happy ending to combat the anxiety, and it's non-intellectually demanding so my ADHD brain can actually rest instead of going a mile a minute as it does when I don't have something occupying it.

I read 224 books this year and I absolutely can't remember them all. I have to keep a log with titles and authors and ratings and summaries so I can remember which ones I liked best. I reread those, and the second (and third and fourth) read helps me remember the plot and characters and everything else. A close reading is different for me than an entertainment read. My business is words, so when I read for entertainment I don't fuss.

So here's what I'm saying. Reading is good even if you think they aren't reading right. There is no 'right' for reading. If they're just reading for escapism, that's fine. If it's fostering a true love of books that might become a career, that's great. If they're reading as a coping strategy. Leave them alone unless you're a therapist and can help them out.

Another possibility you might want to consider is that it's your questions that are making their brains go blank. A lot of people have trouble answering direct questions like that. And if they actually sat and thought about the story or characters and kind of unfolded it from that direction, would actually remember. By 'a lot of people' I mean me. My adhd brain doesn't remember like that. But if I go back to my log and look at my summary, the narrative will come back to me.