#feralalchemy

[youbettermerc]

‘Do something funny, Jester.’ - Grayson

A furious jingling sounded as the three bells beading the ends of a gaudy fool's cap Wade (begrudgingly) wore were jostled. He'd snapped his head around so sharply and severely to look at the other mercenary the tingling ache of tendons knitting back together flared faintly at the base of his skull.

The other was set with the narrowed stitching of his mask for a moment longer, index finger poised just as sharply on the keypad. Debating if he could kebab Grayson right then and there for the added smarm. He decided against it. "I'll remind you I'm only wearing this because I'm a man of high integrity. And always keep my promises."

Okay, and because he'd lost a bet against Grayson pretty badly. But that was neither here nor there.

Another discordantly cheerful cacophony from the bells as he turned back to safe cracking, hunched like a gargoyle in front of it. As if the weight of the cap also contained his unusually sour mood. "... and so birds know when I'm coming."

[perrit0fantasma]

1987 Sanrio Just for fun bear tin

By: feralalchemy

[normallyxstrange]

@feral-alchemy​ gets a plotted thing with Dalton

     The theater smelled like all the others he’d ever visited--semi-burnt popcorn, sugary sweetness from soda and candy, sweat and B.O. from countless people who’d sat in these chairs before him. Dalton tried to tune out the odors and sank further down into his seat, head ducked down slightly. 

     The movie was loud--theaters always were--but the noise was a comfort. He’d spent too long this time in solitude. Not yet ready to be around people, but no longer wanting to be entirely alone, he’d sought out this place. Easy enough to sneak in, find a quiet place near the back, sink down into the seat and try to focus on something else besides his thoughts for a while.

     And for the first half of the movie--some action flick with gunfights and very little plot--it had gone okay. But then he caught the scent of something acrid and heavy. For a minute, he thought of burnt popcorn before he realized it was smoke.

     The alarm went off a bare second after his realization--loud, piercing. He winced, immediately covering his ears. Bewildered movie-goers rose from their seats, covering their ears too. They weren’t werewolves though. Their ears weren’t sensitive to the high-pitched, constant screech like his were. The lights came up. Bodies filed toward the exits, heading to the lobby, heading for the fire-doors. 

     It started in his chest, somewhere beneath his racing heart. It pushed against his lungs. He couldn’t breath. His skin was too tight. He had to get out of here. He had to move.

     But he couldn’t. He sat in his seat, hunched over, hands over his ears, elbows locking his head into place.

     No, no. Not now. Not this. It’s too much. I can’t--

    People filed past him down the aisles. He could feel them, bodies far too close to him despite the several feet of distance between his seat and the aisle. The fierce alarm rattled his head and his nerves. The people pressed in on him. The smell of smoke was thicker now. And the wolf--oh gods, the wolf--writhed and snapped beneath his skin.

     Move. Go now. Run for the door. Get out!

     Dalton stood, movements leaden and sluggish, hands still pressed to his head. He took one step, then another, and the pain struck him first in the abdomen. It always hurt worse when the shift came suddenly, unbidden, as it did now. He cried out and the sound was more animal than human, all pain and fear.

     Oh. Oh, he couldn’t stop it this time. He couldn’t get away. No. No!

[openensos]

🎈 🎈 🎈 for: Wade, Deacon, JJ

🎈what instantly lifts my muse’s mood

Wade - If someone he’s crushing on genuinely laughs at one of his jokes lmao 

Deacon - Praise/recognition for his family and band/clan 

JJ - Any sort of gaudy, gag joke or toy (fake poo, rubber chickens, wind-up-walking teeth, etc.) 

[youbettermerc]

@feral-alchemy my likes took a family photo of Bailey and Wade

[openensos]

@feral-alchemy || this is from the sex funeral ask but I’m mobile and am too lazy to tag it LOL

Deacon hadn’t given much thought to death until he’d stepped foot on the HMS Terror. Until he’d stepped onto it from their last familiar port, to be precise. He’d ran into some O’Myres there who had quickly buttoned up their lips when he’d said he was heading far North. Proper North.

‘Fearghal know your routes?’

Deacon had snorted loud enough for the whiskey and bar food in his gut to threaten to make a second appearance, the action no different to his stomach than a purge. Even if his father knew his location, what would he do? Sail to the crown of the world and drag him back home? Flog back the ice into submission? Not likely.

The other kelpie, Oisin, had smiled tightly and too quickly, as if not to dampen Deacon’s spirits. ‘A fine view, ‘m told. Just... Be careful, Dea. North’s far up there. Far enough to lose yer head.’

The words had stuck with him long after they’d left port.

Kelpies have a big fanfare for death. It’s upsetting, of course, when somebody in the clan passes whether from an accumulation of years or illness or just a freak accident. They’re returned to the sea and spoken of in long and fond tales that spread from clan to clan. And When the storm season comes the departed are celebrated in the winds and rains. If it’s a lead, long recounts of feats can be sung about for verses and verses. A legendary death like that is sought after. It’ll probably take years to sing his parents’ songs once they’ve seen this world through.

The sorrow would be great for him if either of his parents were to pass away unexpectedly. Or if his best mate Seamus were to befall some tragedy or many of the band members he’d come to think of as a second blood family it would be equally as crushing. Like if Woods were to meet some untimely demise. Or slapstick Lester and his sunny personality. Even coal-sprayed, sour Darcy.

And if he were to die... well...

Deacon hefts his shovel into the hard ground as if it’s soft and loamy soil, pushing the thought away. Standing here in this nearing six foot deep grave contemplating his eventual demise spooks him more than he’d like to admit. It’s not the actual act of dying that bothers him... but the after. He’s come to rely on traditions, old and new, and stories and recountings to navigate his life. No one has anything of the sort for death - there’s no manual or how to.

And who’s to know just how a being like a kelpie, who preys on others to survive, is received in death if there is anything that comes after?

He was too far North in his thoughts lately. Oisin has been right.

Woods cracks a line that should have sent him guffawing into a fit but he only provides a tight smile instead and traces the wall of earth in front of him with an index finger. The soil (if it can even be called that) is thick and hard, not the tender loam he’s grown accustomed to in Killarney and beyond. “This isn’t a grave. It’s a tomb.” The words are too heavy coming out of his mouth, heavy like the frozen rocks and dirt will be over the lad’s dead head. Deacon offers up a snort to lighten the mood. “Mhm, right. Treat those fillies good and proper for me.” He chuckles but it’s a dry sound compared to his others. A toss of his head points out the shrouded corpse above them on the bleached ground. “Lay the poor lad down so he can finally rest, the lucky bastard.”

[openensos]

“Your brow’s furrowed enough to wash a shirt on, Mister Woods.” 

Deacon likes Bailey. 

It seems he really only likes harassing her; coming dangerously close to outing her in front of others at every opportunity, baying at a nonexistent moon to hype the youngers up knowing she’ll have to soothe them, stealing her harmonica to hide in places. This was all how friendship and good tidings were expressed where he came from, backwards as it was. Bailey would certainly hold her own in his band and that was something to admire. 

Joining her at the rail to watch the sun dipping in the sky, throwing reds and oranges over the chunks of ice mottling the water, he notes her posture and her expression. A wiser man would keep his distance and find a roundabout way to ask what’s up. But his clan wasn’t known for their forethought.  

He takes a step closer to her so there’s hardness pressing into her right hip, a mirthful smile unbalancing the levelness of his previous, innocent one. “‘s lucky, ya know.” His eyetooth is on display as he keeps looking out over the horizon line, knowing very well she could send him spinning into the waters below with an errant backhand. Before she can raise a hand to do this (because chances are, she will), he reveals the source. A worn horseshoe in his hand. He can speak more candidly - in a rare moment, it’s just them out on deck. “From me own clan. Can use a slew’a them. To weigh you down in the water. Use to dive fer ‘em when we were little in the shallows. Get our sea lungs good and strong.” 

He smirks at her, tapping the shoe on the railing, contemplating for a while. Finally, the shoe is extended towards her. “Keep it. Got three others. If worst comes to worst you can shove it down your pants to keep these boys none the wiser, eh?” 

He sighs and grows pensive, eyes training back on the horizon. “Gonna need more than luck for this, that’s fer damn.” 

( @feral-alchemy )

[openensos]

feral-alchemy replied to your photo

ok but what if one of them was topaz and the other three were all laughing and looking in his direction almost like the brady bunch

ur wish is my command @feral-alchemy

[youbettermerc]

@feral-alchemy || here

He, too, follows the waitress’s retreat with low interest, legs outstretched underneath the booth they’re sitting in and his chin resting in his palm. His shoulders are slanted enough that his posture betrays his mouth, mask pulled up from his nose and mouth to expose chapped skin. 

While Bailey gets lost in the whirlpool that is the waitress’s hips, Wade keeps his focus on the bustle of people outside the 24-hour diner, moving with purpose to get out of the rain. He shouldn’t be so melancholy - a swinging, sex-positive party for a hit was right up his alley. (In more ways than one.) But he can’t bring himself to feel excited. (... in more ways than one.) 

Bailey’s smile is hollow as she answers him. Like the words that come out of his mouth. “It’s me saying you have a way with words. And coming from me that could either be an insult or a compliment.” 

He’s not mad at her. He’s not really anything at her, just dredged down in his own layer of brooding. 

He grunts and exhales loudly suddenly, dry skin feeling like sandpaper even through his glove as he rubs a hand over his mouth and chin. “I better bulk up on potassium for this party. So, I’m ordering three banana splits.” 

[openensos]

🎈for topaz x3 because he is an angry mystery

🎈what instantly lifts my muse’s mood

I genuinely had to think about this for a moment and say out loud, “Does anything make Topaz happy?” 

After careful consideration, he (secretly) likes it when people give him tender touches while he’s sleeping because it shows they’re not fooled by his blustery front and will still approach when his guard is down lmao 

[openensos]

@feral-alchemy || here

The bold thing doesn’t let up. From her vantage point on the car hood, Jade’s tempted to lob her empty beer bottle seated next to her right hip. If she did actually hit the stupid thing she’d feel... bad. And that’s the very thin reasoning stopping her from beaning the animal.

Different methods would have to be taken up.

“Alright, motherfucker.” With a sharp exhale, Jade scoots on her butt off the car top and hops down from the trunk. She disappears behind the car, simultaneously shedding her undershirt and working on the buckle of her jeans. She drops out of sight through the back windows. A beat later, a dark pit bull emerges from around the bumper, stopping by the back wheel of the car to stare down the coyote.

Jade’s run other animals out of the lot before. Many times. Raccoons and other stray dogs and cats. People, too, though she’s pickier about her battles with them both in and out of shift. Many are jonesing junkies looking for sellable junk like copper piping to make some quick cash. A restless addict could easily knock out a smaller girl or dog in a big junkyard full of blunt and/or sharp objects. Knock out or worse. If they are high already she stays put, pressing herself into the car interior with her hood drawn over her head to look as small as possible. If her dad has taught her anything it’s don’t get in the way of a doped up junkie.

But a coyote? Tch, that’s nothing. It’s kind of weird one is so close to the city limits. She sees none in Chicago proper, the urban vibe too busy and cramped for most wild animals (except the really savvy ones like squirrels and raccoons).

Hackles raised and with a tempest growl resonating from her throat, Jade charges at the other four-legged animal with clear intent to harm, tail raised and quivering. 

[openensos]

“Oi. Woods.”

He’s got a band now. It’s a hodge-podge band if ever there was one and he’s pretty sure in the wild predator animals like Bailey and her crew and prey animals like him don’t mingle too often, but it’s what he’s got to work with. He’s got this silly crew and still... swaying a few inches above their mess deck, surrounded by others also trying to find sleep or moving to and from work posts, he can’t feel more alone. 

It’s the ice, he tells himself. Deacon’s never heard anything quite like it. Surely nothing of nature can make such horrendous sounds. Quiet clicks and cracks at one point and then groaning, screaming and grinding the next. It’s not only the noise but the knowledge it’s encased them down here, fifteen or more feet below where seawater should be cradling them. 

Becoming the first O’Myre to fuck the North Passage is going to be more daunting than he anticipated. 

In times of unease, bandmates turned to each other. Sang songs, told stories. Even braided each other’s hair if it was of length, which, while meant to be mocking, actually was unspokenly soothing for both recipient and braider. Being herd bound wasn’t a bad thing - it’s how the clans and the bands survived. The brazen pride displayed by each was as much for bravado’s sake as it was assurance. To belong meant survival. Continuation.

 There’s not a kelpie soul to be found up here. This must be what it’s like to be exiled. 

Even just thinking the word makes his throat click audibly but he’ll play it off as the ice grunting away, eyes studying the rope fasteners above their heads like strange fruit. “Don’t suppose ye got’a tale for a restless mind?”

( @feral-alchemy )

[openensos]

⭐️

⭐️

@feral-alchemy / @blu-coasts / anyone and everyone u play

Wow wow wow what can I even say? Multi-dimensional characters? Amazing dialogue and speech patterns? Interesting, amazing, original ideas and plot points? Historical pieces of information heavily researched and rooted in fact with resources? An amazing artist? One of my best real life friends? Someone I tag shit in constantly all the time even when it’s the most peak internet nonsense that only makes sense to us? Someone who will stream Gravitation with me and listen to me drunkenly pick apart the plot and characters?? All of the above????

My writing has improved so much writing with Miss Unicorn. She has a natural flow to her writing that you just can’t help but want to emulate. At this point, I feel confident that I could pick out characters based on their dialogue patterns (maybe). She has also encouraged me to draw and get into art again, even when I was feeling self conscious ;-; We are both in the teaching field so quickly bonded over the struggle of trying to reach Children mindfully and patiently. But it’s really nice to come home and just dump how much a kid was annoying me that day and know I’m not being judged for it 😂

We share a cat and a dog together so, you know. Things are pretty serious. We are also reading/watching The Terror (aka picking apart shitty arrogant white men and their fear/awe of pubic hair) together which has been a blast and a half. I don’t know what I would do without her, she really has become one of my greatest friends of all time ;-; She also lives where my dream traveling destination is which is more excuse to go there someday, GOD WILLING. One of the greats, a true pleasure to have in class 💞

[openensos]

@feral-alchemy || here

“Mako would turn you into a slug. If he heard you calling him that.” He’s smiling anyway, eyeing the near-empty shelves of the fridge in shrouded disappointment.

This house was a dud. It only proved a more expensive appearance didn’t mean shit in terms of worldly possessions. Or even over the counter drugs. The fridge was basically empty, the rooms barely containing much more than furniture and a few personal trinkets. The bathrooms had only relinquished some expired Advil. Either this place was an Airbnb or someone was getting ready to take themselves completely off the grid.

Widget closes the fridge door and promptly opens it again. This is done a few more times as if expecting the next opening will reveal the fridge fully stocked with food. Years ago, home from school and on days when his appetite assaulted him with a ferocity that was astounding, he would do this same thing to get his mother to smile from behind her hands. The smile, weak as it was, made her look less haggard, crunched up in her exasperated position leaned into the kitchen counter with a cup of cold coffee next to her. That smile would border on grateful - for just a moment to think about something other than her sick eldest child, or of mounting medical bills, of making sure Cora still got to school and was picked up. All she had to focus on was making food for her son. And make him feel okay, even if for only ten minutes.

On the one hand, Bailey isn’t smiling gratefully at him but she doesn’t look exhausted or exasperated either. Bailey has a tendency to deflect - to the point where Widget isn’t always sure she’s even being dishonest or just cracking a genuine joke. Arms-length distances seemed to be her comfort zone and it’s foreign to him to want to be... close to that. Maybe it’s the thrill of the chase or maybe he’s starting to actually settle down after being on the run for so many years.

He gives up on the fridge and turns his attention to Bailey. She’s still munching away at the popcorn brazenly heated up in the microwave just moments before. “You good?”

[openensos]

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” - Naoki at Topaz or KC

“Fuck off, I’m not here for you.” 

Since arriving eleven hours ago, Topaz has done nothing but compare Naoki’s small, puny island to his large, powerful one. Oahu is prettier than the pictures and yet it still misses the rugged charm of Australian. The cheeriness gave him hives at first but he’s starting to understand that’s just how it goes here. 

But, just as a small child will tug the pigtails of shirttail of the other kid he likes,  the more Topaz complains, the more it means he actually likes it. A movie he has the most to say about, whether liking it or not, still means he’s thinking heavily about it. 

If he ever reaches the same conclusion about Naoki it will be too soon. 

Naoki keeps poking at him so Topaz shoves him, low-riding beach chair and all, into the sand. The sand here has a texture he likes. There’s enough grip to grip your bare foot. They’ve just gotten some beers. Topaz isn’t feeling jet-lagged which means in the coming hours he will suddenly crash and hard. 

He got off the near twelve-hour flight (during which he stayed wide aware) like a bloodhound, nose to the ground and looking for trouble as well as anything inferior to his homeland. He’d found trouble first in that Naoki had spider monkey-ed him at baggage claim. 

Truth be told, Topaz had been too wired to sleep on the plane. It had been a while since he and Naoki had hung out in Broome. Topaz had to get all of his affairs in order for coming to the states, tied everything up at home. What if hanging out wasn’t sweet as? 

So far that wasn’t a problem.

Thinking twice, he suddenly shifts his sitting position to cross-legged in the little chair, having a feeling Naoki will be on the warpath and that meant ankles and teeth. “Not too bad. Your little neck of the woods.” 

( @feral-alchemy / @blu-coasts )

[openensos]

“Say, Dar. You got somethin’... right... there.” 

His laughter rivals the scrape and toss of the coal shovels, somehow managing to not get so much as a smear of coal on him despite the efforts of the others hard at work around him. He doesn’t have time to kill but here he is anyway, finding the time for his sad little crew mate. 

There means everywhere. Darcy is striped and streaked as a foreign flag, coal raccooning his face and any exposed skin. 

Deacon spreads an easy smile across his face. “We have fun, don’t we, Dar? Just the two’a us.” Deacon tilts his head, leaned against the wood of the ship belly, halflidding His mouth twists into a light frown. “Listen, about the other night. When Armstrong was about to sweet talk mad dog Spice and lady-bore Ferguson.” It was Darcy’s panicked eyes that had set him into motion. He’d sought out Bailey so innately Deacon had to wonder if she’d be classified as a lead translation of pack-to-herd definitions. “You looked pale as a sheet. What’re you gonna do if Woods’ isn’t around? And you find yourself face to face with a big beastie?” 

He holds the other’s gaze pointedly for a moment before easing up, sidling his spine up to the wood of the ship again with a lazy cross of his arms. Because the scenario is very real for them. And their mission tucked away within a mission, like a Russian doll. “Doe-eyein’ ‘em to death is smart but takes up too much time. You’re a shovelin’ man. Bet your punch packs a whollop. If you know how to use it.” 

( @feral-alchemy​ )