#unfathomable bastard <3

[un-local]

Me, writing Rogier: God, i miss Rogier

[sableprince]

assorted NMS oc doodles backlog that i guess i forgot to post? i'm really bad at putting stuff in tags, like this comparatively more serious lore compilation post thing. haha. this trio is stupid.

slightly more serious teluya backstory WIP comic under the cut because it's less goofy

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW)

Your family did fine. You were more comfortable than some, but not so comfortable that you could sit idle. The crops had started to bud, and the shop was filled with all manner of pickled vegetables, fresh eggs, and flowers. You counted the coppers and silvers in the little lock box under the counter. Business was the same as usual, but your brow still furrowed.

Mother was getting tired. The decades of tilling, sowing, reaping, and harvesting had started to toll on her. Especially after your father left. The bastard. Your mother labored at home with an aching back and bad knees. Before long the crops would flourish and need tending. It was more than enough work for two, unfathomable for just you alone.

Jeering came from outside the shop. A band of orc hunters with their catches. They were a threatening bunch. Hard and strong. One orc could have the strength of two men. In the great cities they faced more discrimination, but out here someone either hunted for their meat, or payed other people to do the hunting for them. And the orcs… they were masterful at what they did. And so they were welcomed.

The rusted hinges of your shop door creaked. “Did you miss me?”

Any desire to feign positivity drained from your person. You didn’t even try to hide the sour look on your face. Milo was a repugnant leech that had been stalking your family for years. He had tried courting each one of your elder sisters, losing them each time to men better than him. And now you were the last sister on the list. Unmarried. And running out of time. The latter fact he was quite aware of.

”How is Celina?” You never liked how he called your mother by her first name. It was too familiar. You don’t bother to look up from your coin counting. “My Mother’s wellbeing is none of your concern.” Milo sauntered up to the counter, “y/n-“

You slammed your fist, sending a few coins into the air. “When will you get the idea that my family wants nothing to do with you?” You still couldn’t look him in the eye. He sighed, picking up one of the coppers from the floor, “You would rather your mother toil in the field? You would rather surrender yourself to the life of a shopkeep? It’s a waste.”

You had no answer for him. Because he was right to question your choices. Yes you truly enjoyed running the family shop, but you couldn’t possibly keep this up for long without your mother. She deserved peace and rest. But he was just… a nuisance at best. Frightening at worst. His family owned half the town, and how easy it would be for them to blacklist you and your mother from ever doing business in their marketplace again.

”Anyways…” He dropped the coin down onto your counter with a clank, “Winter will come. And will you be prepared? If your mother cannot help you work the fields…”

”Are you trying to give me an ultimatum?” You had pushed the idea of next winter out of your head the second the ice started to melt. But he was right, what would you do? He didn’t entertain your question with a response. No… it wasn’t an ultimatum. It was a threat. A threat that when winter came you would get what was coming to you. He made his way out the door, the rusty hinges screeching. “You should really fix that.” He gave a nasty grin and let the door slam behind him.

You pushed all the thoughts of worry from your head. It was something you had grown skilled at doing. Gods be damned if you let him spoil such a lovely morning. You threw the windows of the shop open, arranging bouquets from your flower garden for the street to see.

At night when you and your mother pray over dinner, you beg anyone listening for an eternal spring.

~

Two weeks pass uneventfully. You sell many bouquets of flowers to well-to-do ladies, and your mother’s special pickled red onions fly off the shelves as usual. In the early morning you sit counting your coins, listening to the soft bustling of the market just beginning to wake up.

”You know you can pickle these eggs right?”

You keep your eyes trained on the coins, trying not to lose count. There is a long pause, but you can tell the man hasn’t walked away, “We don’t sell any here.”

“You should.” You raise your head to cock an eyebrow at him. You try to stifle a gasp from your chest. An orc man with olive green skin is leaned slightly through the window of your shop. You had never had an orc approach your little shop. They always had bigger and better things to sell and buy.

”We don’t sell those here.” A more rational person would have thought twice before talking back to an orc hunter. But you were tired of men questioning you. A young lady entered the shop, eyeing the orc man still leaning on your window sill. The door squealed unpleasantly, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Fine,” The orc smirked and shrugged, exiting your window.

~

The next day, there was a basket waiting for you on your shop’s doorstep. You groan. This wouldn’t be the first time Milo left gifts for you to find. You take a peek into the bracket and… what was this? Spices? Salt? Garlic cloves? Underneath the goods were two silver coins.

You yelped at the sound of fingers rapping against the window pane. You reeled around expecting Milo. But… it was the orc man. The orc man from the day before. He pointed at the little latch holding the window closed. You were sure he could punch his way right through the window if he really wanted in. “I don’t want any trouble!” You yelled at him through the window.

Another smirk crept onto his face, “I bring no trouble with me, Miss. I just thought you might like a chance to make some more coin.”

What this lecherous orc seriously propositioning you for pay? Before he could say another thing, you hurled an egg at him. You hoped it would have just broken against the window to frighten him off. But to your horror it crashed through the glass, making a direct impact with his face. “Fuck!” You heard him fall on his ass in the street.

You rushed to the window. The orc was splayed out on the cobblestones, his forehead bleeding from the broken glass. He lay motionless, and you started to panic. Oh Gods. Oh Gods no. You just assaulted an orc. A big strong orc man who kills things for his living. Not even Milo or his family’s status could protect you from the wrath of an angry orc. You threw open the screeching rusted front door. Oh gods he was huge. He knew where you worked. He could follow you home. What if he brought his fellow huntsmen with him? What if they hurt your mother as well?

You couldn’t stop any of the thoughts racing through your head. You were worried about making it through winter… now you might not even make it through the summer. You bit down on your fist, trying to keep composure.

”Got a hell of an arm…” The orc grunted, pulling you out of your trance. He sat himself up, bringing his fingers to the drops of blood running down his temple. “Ha!” He guffawed and made his way to stand up.

”Please… please.” You weren’t sure if you were praying to a high power or pleading to him. His eyes met yours but there was no rage, or fury. There was a look of annoyance, maybe a bit of mild amusement. Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck he said, “Miss. I only meant… you should make pickled eggs. There are a lot of orc boys out here far from the motherland. They would pay a premium for a taste of home.”

You were nearly speechless, “I- I don’t know how orcs prefer their pickled eggs-

“That basket has everything you need.”

“Oh… okay. Very well. Sir.” Your voice wavered and he could see how clearly frightened you were.

The orc groaned, wiping more blood off his face. “Sorry about this. See you around.” You hoped that wasn’t a threat, but with that he jogged his way down the street.

Blasted pickled eggs.

[anyonewannasteponme]

Summary: Your Uncle Aegon enjoys sneaking into your room at night and making you his. Especially after you’ve misbehaved. (Also Helaena and Aemond are married because I say so)

Warnings: Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, Impact Play, Slight Non-Con

Authors Note: I want to preface by saying that I haven’t watched House of The Dragon yet so if I write Aegon a little out of character take that into consideration please this is far from perfect I just wanted to write something for fun. I just want a horrible man to ruin me <3

Your stomach was in knots, an acute feeling of dread had been plaguing you ever since you had stormed off from the disastrous family dinner. You felt awful, your Grandsire had only been trying to achieve one thing between your Mother and Brothers and Alicent Hightower and her boys. Unity. And it had been going well, until conversation had been shifted to Luke and Jaces legitimacy due to your Uncle Aemond’s unfathomable pride. Strong boys, he had called them knowing exactly what open wound to poke and prod.

Sure enough after Aemond slipped in the strong comment he and Jace were fighting. Helaena had let out a gasp as her husband got a punch to the jaw, one he rightfully deserved in the moment. You’d left shortly after, stormed out you supposed, you were furious. Unlike your brothers you had Targaryen features, like your brothers you were very much a bastard. It was just easier for everyone to pretend that you werent. You could pass as a true born Targaryen with your gleaming violet eyes and silver hair. Luke and Jace had a much harder time than yourself and you wished with all your heart that you could save them from the cruelties of the court. What had really wound you up was Aegon. The way he had slammed your brother down against the table unflinchingly had you fuming. How he could share your bed, yet insult your whole identity was a mystery.

A sharp rap on your door signalled his arrival. You knew from the brief few second pause between the previous violent knocks before a string of more followed more aggressive than the last that Aegon was at the door. “I do not wish to see you right now Uncle.” You whisper shouted, aware that if someone heard you refuse his entrance they’d likely try and send you to the dungeons. “I dont give two shits.” Aegon slurred, slamming on the door frame, the wooden piece rattling in its hinges. You muttered a variety of unladylike words in your head when you observed your sheer nightgown. Nipples slightly pebbling through the fabric. You were in no way ready to receive visitors. Especially not when you knew Aegon was already in a foul mood.

You opened the door wearily. Aegon barged in, his blond hair was ruffled, signalling his feverishness. “I saw you staring at him.” He barked suddenly, you jolted backwards, surprised but not shocked at his incapability to process your own feelings of anger and humiliation instead jumping to what was bothering himself. “What do you mean?” You said softly, careful with your words. “Dont play the fool.” He scoffed running a hand through his silvery blonde hair. Scrutinising you, as if he could see the cogs in your little brain whirring, desperately trying to process his accusations. Whilst you thought Aegon stared. Taking in your skantily clad figure, the sheer nightgown he had bought for you.

Wearing it still evoked a pang of guilt in your chest, knowing you were betraying your immediate family by having such relations with Aegon. Your mother would not know what to say if or rather when she figured out her sweet girl, her only daughter was involved with her younger brother, the epitome of unruliness and cruelty. Naturally it was futile to wish for approval you would never get from her, yet you knew the conversation at some point must occur. Especially since it had been many moons since Aegon had started visiting your bedchambers with a promise to make you a mother, a wife and a queen. A queen. The title promised to your mother.

You didnt bother mentioning that you had no interest in your other Uncle. You were devoted to Aegon and Aegon alone, but you knew he would not hear it. You had been looking at Aemond, an atrocity he would not let go unpunished. Even if you had only been staring because the conversation of your Brothers legitimacy had you on edge. You were waiting for him to target you next, worried for what would happen if Aegon was in the room if Aemond ridiculed you. Would he even defend your honour? Or would he leave you to wallow in the shame of your mothers infidelity.

“Were you waiting for Aemond?” Aegon whispered his voice husky and deep with rage. “Maybe he’s on his way now, ready to spill himself deep into the womb of his spoiled whore of a niece.” You flinched at his degradation. “Aemond is a devoted husband to Helaena.” You whimpered voice meeker than you wished it to be. The blood of the dragon ran through your veins, yet your own fire was stifled by the terrifying glint in Aegon’s eyes. He stalked towards you, expression stony and serious. More serious than you ever saw him.

“He called my brothers bastards.” You snapped, trying desperately to change the conversation and avoid his wrath. “Strong boys he called them and you sat there drank your wine and laughed.”

“Him or me.” He said simply, ignoring you trying to shift his attention, his tone sent shivers down your spine.

If you were a smart girl and Aemond was unmarried you would have chosen him. He was infinitely kinder compared to Aegon even if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. But you weren’t a smart girl, and Aegon was not a smart man. He should have bed and married his sister, Heleana regardless of his own wants and needs.

“You.” is what you would have said, had Aegon’s hand not whipped upwards to tighten around your neck, warm and strong and unrelenting. “Him or me.” He repeated his eyes the deepest purple, bordering on black, with lust or anger you could not say. He leant in, mouth pressed agaisnt your ear. “You are not his to take.” He growled. “You are mine to fuck, to seed, to marry, do you understand my darling niece? For as long as I am alive you will remain mine.” He released you when you began to claw at his wrists with desperation for air. Your vision was blurring, tiny pinpricks of black surrounded your Uncle. Tears welled in your eyes, a stinging sensation building in your nose. Aegon released his grip. “Get on the bed.”

You wanted to claw your hair out, to scream, to cry, to beg for him not to punish you for something he had invented of his own accord. But you didn’t. You got on the bed as Aegon began to unbuckle his belt. He gave you a stern look and begrudgingly you moved into the position he wanted you in, arse up ready for his punishment. Maybe he’d fuck your arsehole until it bled, make it impossible for you to leave your room the next day, or would he spank you red raw until you couldn’t sit down because of the pressure on the blue-black bruises he’d given you. You knew he was thinking about which way he wanted to take his anger out on you.

The bed dipped with Aegon’s weight. He grabbed your hips roughly pulling you against his clothed stomach, you were arched like a stretching cat, the way he loved to take you. He administered one searing slap against your left arse cheek with his belt, you convulsed in his arms at the impact wanting to cry alloud at the pain of one strike. “I know it hurts.” He whispered directly into your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe and sending a flush of addictive pleasure between your legs. “But when you behave like a whore you get treated like one.” You couldn’t stop the growl that escaped your lips. Aegon let out a burst of laughter, delighted at your anger, sorrow and neediness.

“Do you not like that name my sweet?” He condescended. “No I think you like it very much.” He ran a hand down your raised thigh, the further down he traced the closer he got to your aching centre. You closed your legs, trying to hide your wetness from him. In response Aegon grabbed a fistful of your hair and wrenched your head back so far you were sure your scalp would be bleeding. “Listen to me.” He pried your legs open with the hand opposite to the one abusing your hair. “I am going to ruin your cunt. I am going to use you to make myself cum and then when your so swollen and desperate from all the orgasms I deny you I will shove my cock back in and push my cum deep inside you.” He leaned in closer. “You come before I tell you its alright then you will be punished, you fail to satisfy me and you will be punished.” With that you felt his blunt head push against your hole. Aegon was collecting your slick before slamming his hips into yours.

“Your pulsing.” He grunted. “Your pussy is trying to push me out.” You didn’t doubt him one bit, the lack of preparation had you engulfed in an excruciating stretch as Aegon pounded you with no restraint all you could do was grasp desperately at the furs on your bed and gurgle as Aegon had his way with you. He clapped a hand over your mouth as a means to quiet you down. But you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your mouth when he changed positions, pounding the spot inside you that always made you crumble around him. “Do not cum.” He growled, you mewled. It wasn’t possible. “I can’t hold it Aegon.” You gasped. “You must.” He replied curtly. He continued to brutally thrust into you. You could feel him pulsing as well, his cock twitching inside you as he continued to fuck you desperately. He was close, but so were you.

You tried to think of anything but the approach of your orgasm, wiggling in your gut like an unwanted worm. You thought of how Aegon demanded respect when he fucked you. You wondered when you saw how he interacted with Alicent if when he was with you that was the only time he was ever in control of his life. You thought about how your mother would be queen. How no matter how often Aegon said he’d make you his queen he didn’t wish to be king even a little bit.

It distracted you for a bit before Aegon began to vocalise his pleasure, grunting and groaning in your ear as if he knew how much it would turn you on. “Dont cum inside please.” You whispered. Aegon flipped you over, legs over his shoulders. “Oh I’m coming inside.” He smirked at whatever expression of horror you must have plastered on your face. “Lets hope it takes and my babe grows in your pretty girl womb.” You let out a gasp of irritation as he slowed his thrusts, the burst of pleasure you had been feeling in the moment dissipating with the loss of his deep thrusting. “You want to come for me?” Aegon asked. You nodded your head vigorously. “Then say that you belong to me. That no one fucks your cunt as well as I do. That you want no one other than Aegon Targaryen.”

“I belong to you.” Aegon resumed his thrusting, growing more frantic and sloppy as he neared his release, you keened. “No one fucks my cunt as well as you do.” If anyone walked past usually you would be mortified, sounding like a commonplace whore. Yet you could care less, having gone dumb on his cock the minute his tip met your entrance. “I want no one other than Aegon Targaryen.” You gasped as your orgasm overtook you the minute you finished saying what he had asked of you. It hit you hard and intense from Aegon’s edging. He growled as he felt you tighten impossibly around him.

Aegon cursed as he came, spilling himself deep into you regardless of what you asked. Terror spiked in your gut. “What if I have a child Aegon.” For a second you were expecting him to shut you down. To say something along the lines of “I already father a dozen bastards whats one more going to do.” Instead he pressed a kiss to your temple, “I dont think anyone would bat an eye if you and I were to wed.” You gasped, stiffening beneath him. “Are you asking me to marry you?” You whispered, barely believing what you were hearing. “I would like nothing more. If you will have me.” You felt tears prick in your eyes, guiding him back to your entrance as you pressed a deep kiss against his lips.

You always forgave him too quickly.

“If you want it to take you’ll need to cum more than once.” You whispered, tucking his hair behind his ear. Aegon grinned, pulling out and angling his hips as he prepared to fuck you again.

[entomolog-t]

The Shadow We Cast - 4

Two guys and too many beers leads to more shenanigans.

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5 (Coming Soon)

Word count: 2998

CW: Adult language, substances (beer/drinking), animal death (fishing/hunting)

It was beyond crazy to me that the most normal I’d ever felt was drinking beers with a weird little man who stood no more than, what, 6 inches tall at most? How many years had it been since the last time I had this much fun? The last time I felt like I could talk and laugh this freely? It just felt so… normal? The thought seemed ridiculous- I mean, the situation was anything but… and yet here I was, thoroughly buzzed and listening intently as if we were old friends.

Sal paraded around the table, reenacting some grand adventure I could only wrap my head around with the help of however many tallboys I’d downed over the past few hours. Tales of hunting monstrous beasts and climbing unfathomable heights. He wove wild stories of a world so foreign yet so familiar… quite literally a world in my backyard.

As I nursed another drink, Sal set the scene, recounting a day-long trek he'd made out to the lake. Mist rose off the water as loons called to one another, their haunting voices echoing off the calm water. He watched intently as they slipped under the water, barely even a ripple disturbing the surface of the lake.

As if he was painting a picture in my mind, I sat enthralled, feeling as if I could feel the crispness of the water washing away the heat of the sun as he spent the day swimming in the shallows. The way he spoke… It didn't feel like I was imagining his retelling from my perspective- but his own. His perspective felt like something … almost fantastical.

"I tried to lure some of the minnows, but I couldn't get close enough to spear them without them darting off.” As if still wielding a spear he eyed the non existent minnows, patiently following some unseen motion as he remained poised to strike. “The bigger minnows seemed slower, but they wouldn't come near shallow enough. I ended up using some of the dried grub rations I'd brought with me as bait, and boy did it work like a charm. I swam I bit farther out with the bait and-"

Spear raised, I could practically see the imaginary impact- watching as the massive fish- or minnow, thrashed against the sharpened twig. I was enthralled- the way his muscles moved with the motion was almost… intimidating, bringing forth thoughts of him human sized, spearing a monster of a fish while swimming in some dangerous Amazonian river. 

“The damn thing was a bitch to swim with,” he groaned, annoyance clear on his face, “For one- it was heavy. But worse,” Sal huffs, “It was still moving.” Despite the exasperation on his face in recounting the ordeal, the man’s face couldn’t help but return to grinning. 

“So then I’m swimming back, right? Honestly more like flailing with the stupid minnow in tow, but I’m keeping above water for the most part… but I keep hearing this clicking… almost squeaking noise? Weirder yet- it's coming from below me.” He pauses, lowering his voice and I’m quite literally reeled in by his story, leaning forward on the edge of my seat. 

“Then- whoosh!” 

Sal grabs at the air. My heart jumps in my chest as the man’s hand lashes out just inches from my face. 

“This monstrous bastard of a creature - absolutely huge,” He pauses, shooting me a cheesy grin, “Second only to you, big man.” I snort and Sal picks right up where he left off, “It was all murky brown with thick these thick… whiskers? And it just sucks me into its mouth with this horrific gulp. Next thing I know I’m being dragged underwater, half in its mouth, pounding on its head just hoping it’ll let me go if I hit it hard enough.”

My breath hitches, a shudder running through me as I make the connection- A catfish. 

“With nothing to lose, I stab it. The spear goes right through its eye and-” Sal pauses, making sure he has my full attention.

“And?”

“Nothing!” Sal laughs as if it was hilarious and not down right horrifying, “That stupid thing didn’t even flinch! I don’t know if it didn’t go deep enough or if I just missed any vital enough part, but it did absolutely nothing!”

He leans forward, no longer laughing as his face takes on a grim expression.

“At this point I start to get worried.”

“Start?!” I scoff. Sal dismisses my interruption with a wave of his hand.

"My lungs are burning, and the thing’s clamped down hard on my stomach. I'm stuck holding that stupid spear for life as it keeps doing this.. this…” He shudders, face twisting in disgust, “-weird gulping thing,” Sal shakes his head as if banishing the memory, “So I ripped that spear out and using everything I had I-” His fist came down, “- drove that spear right back into its head.” 

Sal pantomimed a gruesome show-  stabbing again and again in the world's most horrific display of charades as he brutalised the memory of the catfish. 

“Finally,” He says, voice filled with a mix of relief and exasperation as if he’d just relived the whole ordeal, “it dies.” 

I, stupidly, sigh in relief, as if somehow I couldn't have predicted the outcome with him quite literally standing in front of me.

“My lungs are on fire as I swim to the surface- and man, air never tasted so sweet.” Looking down at Sal, he's beaming, laughing like a kid as he recounts his victory over the massive fish. “And then it hits me- tasted!” 

I furrow my brow, not quite following. Sal continues, frustration returning.

“No spear- and no fucking minnow! As if, after all that, air was gonna be the only thing I’d be tasting!”

After a brief pause I couldn't help but laugh. His smile grew even wider as he raved on, swinging his hands as he continued on about his harrowing ordeal.

“I refused to swim back empty handed after that shitshow- So I spent the whole afternoon dragging that giant bastard back to shore!” 

Fuck. I stare at him, eyes wide. I can’t shake the disbelief as I try to think of what would be the equivalent feat- Dragging an orca back to shore? …Something bigger? I’ve never been an avid fisherman (nor did I have any plans to start) and really had no concept of how big the catfish in the lake got aside from the notion that they were definitely bigger than Sal.

“I get that monster to land- spend about 30 minutes on a fire that just won't start, until I'm finally able to start cooking that beast!” 

He paces along the length of the table, his steps not nearly as sure footed as they had been a few hours prior. Even with his tiny frame I can easily make out the sheer rage simmering behind his eyes.

“And y'know what?” His voice, now starting to slur, is teeming with all the theatrics of a man at his absolute limit. I swallow, desperate to hold back a laugh I know is coming.

“What?”

“That fucking thing tasted awful!” Each word was spat with such ferocity it was as if he was trying to spit out the memory of the creature's taste.

There was no helping it.

With my inhibitions long since drowned, I laugh. I laugh louder than I have in years. I laugh until my sides ache- until tears prick at the edge of my eyes.

And he laughs with me.

“Pond scum! Tha' shtupid thing tasted exactly how pond scum smells!”

My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over as he continues to rant and rave, but the sound of my laughing completely drowns out whatever critical opinions he was espousing on catfish edibility. 

Wiping at my eyes, my brain takes a few tipsy seconds to focus back on the little man. Still shirtless, Sal had sat back, reclining with his back against one of the many empties as he lifted up what was arguably the equivalent to a very generous pitcher to his mouth with little effort- the relative ease of the action catching me by surprise as I imagined myself fumbling at doing the same. 

He… he was built. 

Quite literally a brick shithouse, if said shithouse belonged to Barbie.  

Broad seemed like a fitting word. Broad chested, broad shoulders, broad smile- Hell, even his legs had a width to them. Sal looked as if he had stepped directly out of an instagram fitness post, with his … excessive biceps flexing under the weight of the shot glass, the act a paradoxical effortless display of effort. Even at his diminutive size, I could tell this man was anything but small. He-

He coughs.

My eyes dart away from his body in an instant, snapping back to his face… accompanied with heat rising in my own. As my eyes meet his, I’m again struck with the absolute absurdity of the situation.

I'm here… getting drunk… with a tiny man… He’s right there- arms reach in front of me… 

And yet he still doesn't seem real.

My hand twitches at my side.

Touch him.

As my hand slides towards him, his gaze quickly flicks from my face to my hand and back to my face again. Confusion flashing across his features for a brief moment before his lopsided grin reappears. My finger tips barely graze him as he sidesteps my hand, shoving my fingers away. 

Huh. There's a surprising amount of weight behind his push. 

“Hands t'yourself, Big Guy.” Sal laughs, “You gotta take me to dinner first.”

It takes a moment for my brain to follow his words, and I snort. 

“Is that not what I did?” 

Sal blinks.

His own brain seeming to lag as realization dawns on him. After a moment's delay, he laughs. 

Sal takes an unsteady step forward, the sway in his weight more noticeable than before. He’s still smiling, but a look of concern crosses his features as he stares at the ground in front of him.

“I feel weird.” 

“You’re drunk.”

He looks back up towards me and I point to the drink. After a moment', Sal nods, seemingly cluing in. Maybe? I really couldn’t tell.  For all I know, that nod might have been him nodding off with how stunted the gesture had looked. 

“It…” He starts his sentence and seems to forget it half way through, taking a long blink in between words “... makes you dizzy?” 

I lean forward to rest my head on the table, starting to feel all too alike. 

“Mmm- yeah, when you’ve had a bit much.” 

With that, I slid the shot glass away from him- An act which was apparently the most egregious party foul ever to have been committed. Shouts of protest erupt beneath me, as he trails after the glass. 

With a laugh, I try to shoo him away, but man, the little guy can move. Despite the sway to his stride, Sal ducks my hand with ease.

“Dude,” I laugh, opting to pick up the glass, “You.. uh, you’ve had 'nough- you're gonna get sick.”

My words feel thick, almost sticky, in my mouth, and the thought crosses my mind that I should probably be taking my own advice.

“'m fine.” 

I snort. The man didn't even know what beer was all of two hours ago, and here he was thinking he knew his limits.

“'s if you’d know,” I chuckle. “You're stumblin' 'round.”

Sal narrows his eyes.

“I am not!”

“Oh really?” My words slur together, thick with condescension and alcohol as a smile down at him. I shove a finger to his chest, I give a little push. Sal shoots glare as he staggers back.

“See?” I chuckle, “You're totally shtumbling!” 

Eyes wide, he stares up at me, brain seeming to short-circuit for a moment before a goofy grin plasters itself across his face. I feel my own face mirror his expression as we break out into drunken laughter. 

The laughter hit me hard. 

I laughed at Sal's near cartoonish drunkenness.

I laughed at how he stumbled with a push from a finger.

I laughed at the strangeness- the reality shattering strangeness- of his very existence.

This... this is really strange...

As our collective laughter died down I took in a deep inhale. I needed to know more. I couldn’t keep up the half assed charade of normalcy. 

“Sal-”

In the brief moment I’d let my guard down, the tiny man quite literally pounces. I yank my hand away a fraction of a second before he lands, Sal stumbling as his weight falls forward. Before his face makes contact with the table, Sal seemingly just… goes with it? Just flowing with the momentum as if stumbling forward had been completely intended. With surprisingly little effort, his would-be fall morphs into a drunkenly graceful forward roll, carrying him to a stand- albeit, an unsteady one. 

For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, and before I’m able to react to whatever odd show of athleticism I’d just witnessed, he’s already at it again, eyes locked onto the shot glass like a cat locked onto a mouse. I move to shoo him away with my free hand, yet I’m met with nothing but empty space as Sal scrambles underneath the gesture. 

Again, he tries for the glass. 

Launching himself at my hand, I feel his hands graze my own before I lift the glass out of reach. Sal lands with a stumble, a lopsided grin sitting smugly on his face as he looks from the glass to me. 

Sal lowers his stance, looking something between a sprinter at the blocks and a mountain lion set to pounce. 

Seeing the gears in his head turning (albeit, slowly), I clue in. Before he gets the chance to scale me for the beverage, I make a grab for him. 

And yet, despite my efforts, somehow Sal winds up on top of my hand. It was like trying to grab at water- with him just flowing out of my grasp. Abandoning the shot glass, I grab at him with my free hand- watching dumbstruck as he drunkenly pivots, turning to jump at my in coming hand.

I freeze- Trying and failing to keep my hand steady as Sal hangs off my fingers. 

With my lack of reaction, Sal takes the opportunity to climb my fingers like some sort of rope ladder. 

To my horror, he climbs all of them, heaving himself to a shaky stand on the side of my index finger- Hands on his hips and grin on his face. 

I meet his gaze and he laughs, his expression smug as he wags his finger at me.

“Too shlow.” 

Arms out in a stumbling balance act, Sal begins walking across the edge of my hand looking oddly similar to a failed roadside sobriety test. Pausing, he frowns, pouting in frustration before bending over. For a moment, I think he’s about to throw up. Instead, he plants his hands firmly on my forearm.  

My stomach drops.  

With no effort whatsoever, Sal switches to walking on his hands- somehow just as drunkenly. Swaying side to side, every “step” seemed to overcompensate for the last, looking as if he was perpetually on the verge of tipping over.

And then he did.

In a split second, I’m sober.

My hand darts out, closing awkwardly around his form with all the grace and fine motor skills of a man marginally less drunk. Unmoving and unblinking, Sal stares up at me, a strange sound escaping him… almost as if a hum got caught in his throat. I could have almost been convinced he was nothing but an action figure with the way Sal went rigid- if not for his heart beating wildly beneath my fingertips. 

My own heart drummed in my ears, and for a moment, just a single moment, it didn’t bother me that he was sticky. 

He swallows. The tiny, but very human action feels uncanny at his size. The rise and fall of his chest, the strangely sizable weight of him in my hands… all of it is just so… strange. He feels solid - tense beneath my grip. Fuck- even at his size he felt strong. My eyes trace over the myriad of scars that marred his skin, gaze lingering over the clear bite mark that covered his shoulder and chest…

I hadn't even noticed my thumb tracing over it until I felt him try and push the digit away.

“Mark-” 

“Oh- sorry.” I adjust my grip into something I assume is more comfortable, opting to hold him in a way that left him semi-seated in my palms rather than awkwardly dangling from a first.

It's a weird sight, seeing a grown man sitting in your hands. Every small movement I make has him sway, his head drunkenly lolling back as he slurs a few indistinguishable words with a chuckle. Up close like this he looks just about as drunk as he sounds- red in the face and eyes struggling to stay open. 

Adjusting my grip, I cringe.

He was more than just a little sticky.

His pants clung to my skin, peeling off as I moved like a Band-Aid being removed. The mental image sends a shudder down my spine.

I consider taking the opportunity to wipe off the concerningly sticky little man while I have the chance, though a more rational voice in the back of my mind argues that a good host doesn’t assault their “neighbor” with wet wipes. 

Below, Sal grumbles something unintelligible, clearly displeased with me as he swats at my fingers. Though despite his attempts, my fingers lingered. 

Ugh- He left a stain on my hand! 

I glare at the dark smear of sauce he’d wiped off onto his pants, silently reconsidering the option of dousing the man in dish soap, let alone wet wipes, etiquette be damned. 

Instead, I opted for another drink.

[corrodedbisexual]

There and back again

Steddie | T | ~4k | AO3 link

Written for @steddie-week Day 3: long | mutual pining

Featuring: Light Angst (with a Happy Ending), Fluff, Confessions, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Not Canon Compliant - Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, POV Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Friends to Lovers

In the summer of 1987, Eddie Munson returns to Hawkins for what he plans to be a quick bittersweet reunion with his uncle and friends before he leaves this place, with no promise of a future for him, in his rearview mirror once more. What he doesn't expect is to learn that he's had a reason to stay all along.

It’s complicated, the way Eddie feels as he passes the all too familiar ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

It’s been almost a year now. A year since he packed all his most prized possessions into the back of his van and watched that same sign disappear in the rearview mirror. And now, he’s back, not sure for how long; the main reason for that being uncle Wayne. No, not that he’s sick or anything, the old bastard would probably outlive Eddie himself (or so Eddie chooses to believe, simply because the world without Wayne in it seems unfathomable). Eddie just missed not seeing him for so long.

In all fairness, there’s also some people he’d love to see, namely the members of Hellfire currently ruled by the one and only Will the Wise; and exactly one person he simultaneously longs to and dreads reuniting with. Because he just knows that the moment he sees that annoyingly beautiful face, all the feelings he desperately tried to get rid of are going to come back full force.

But it would be a completely asshole move to just ignore him for Eddie’s own sake. So after a rather tearful (they’d both absolutely deny it) reunion with uncle Wayne, a dinner of his favorite mac’n’cheese and answering about a thousand questions from the old man, Eddie decides it’s best to get the hardest part of his return over with.

He grabs a six-pack of beer that he promises to replace later, jumps into his van, and heads over to Harrington’s place.

***

Eddie’s lucky; there was a pretty high chance that Steve would be at work, but when Eddie parks his van in the driveway, Steve’s beemer is right there. Eddie kills the engine and sits back, taking a minute to compose himself as he looks at the house through his windshield. There’s so many memories here, of parties and movie nights and occasional sleepovers that never involved much sleep for Eddie himself. So much laughter and warm camaraderie, but also unrequited lust and yearning that used to eat him up inside.

And of course, his worries about all those feelings surfacing again and choking him weren’t unfounded. Because the moment the front door opens upon him ringing the doorbell, and Steve’s face appears in his view, Eddie’s forgotten the whole carelessly cheerful greeting he’s had planned. He just stares, taking in the sight of the boy he used to love, the boy he still feels so weak about even though a whole year has passed, dammit, isn’t that supposed to be enough time to get over someone?!

Read on AO3 | Divider credit

[starheirxero]

I'm one again here to ask you for more headcanons about

✨The toxic yuri lumini✨

PUTS MY HAND ON MY HIP JERMA STYLE. AND I WILL DELIVER MORE HEADCANONS ABOUT TOXIC YURI LUMINI ^_^

You left a tag on one of my Gemini design posts a bit ago where you mentioned the idea of Lunara breaking off one of Gemini's antlers and I have not stopped thinking about it btw. Could you imagine being an entity made of space, stars, light, and unfathomable power and some little rat bastard mortal who you have weird feelings about comes long, bests you in a fight, and breaks off a piece of your antlers?? breaks of a piece of your HALO???? THATS INSANE. /POS

I can just imagine the initial shock after it cracks and snaps right off and there's just a long moment where Lunara is staring at the horn in their hands and Gemini is staring at Lunara while loosely palming the area where it broke off. Once it settles in though, I think Lunara would be absolutely thrilled at what they've done. They'd laugh and they'd taunt Gemini by holding the piece up to their own head and going "look, now we match! <3"

Gemini on the other hand would be... less than pleased LMAO. I think they'd be a mix of humiliated and angry for taking such a hit from this random robot, but they'd also be like aoaughh oly shit. they overpowered me, how did they even,,, theyre . i can be normal about this(< is experiencing the classic "i can't tell if i want to kiss or kill you" dilemma).

I also think that, from that point forward, Lunara would probably wear that piece somewhere on them and they'd get more much comfortable just grabbing Gemini by the horns whenever they felt like it. You know that "how to talk to a short person" meme? That, Imagine that but the "correct" answer is of Lunara grabbing Gemini's antlers and yanking them down so they're at eye level <3

[lemon-bread-slice]

Lemon is sappy hours

So i just reached 50k words posted on AO3 and That Is Insane. My first fic was posted in November 2023 and since then I've posted fifteen of the bastards.

To basically re-hash this post I never in a million years thought I'd end up here - my ass was trying not to fall asleep in English class, slogging through another creative writing assessment, waiting for Maths or Physics or Computing.

And now hundreds, maybe thousands, of people have read a portion of those 50,109 words I have written. Some kudos'd, bookmarked, and a few even commented to say they thought they were good words. Insane. Unfathomable.

Thank you HSBB- the catalyst of it all

I saw a post about the event (Hermitshipping Big Bang) and joined on a whim almost exactly a year ago, and from that server i've made so many fandom friends that I talk to regularly, hype enable me, and are all around cool people <3

Thank you to anyone who has ever read one of my fics, and a special thank you to the consistent readers. It's gotten to the point where there's a good handful of names i can recognise in the kudos and comments

Speaking of comments, i treasure every single one, and whenever i'm feeling demotivated i go back and reread them and they always make me smile. Seeing others so excited over something i've made is an incredible feeling.

As a celebration for reaching 50k, I thought i'd reveal the basic outline of my current project, It's nsfw so i'll put it below the cut, but i just want to say one last thank you to every single person in this fandom. Thank you for being an amazing community <3

Hello there :3

So, the current project is a 8.5k and growing behemoth that has been in the works since April. It's a Gemtho Mafia AU (mostly for flavour) scene, focused around knifeplay and shibari.

(Rough placeholder summary) Etho's messed up big time on a mission and typically Gem isn't the most forgiving Boss, but, for better or worse, she has other plans than a beating for him. When all is said and done he comes out just as bloodied and bruised, though.

So yeah! I've wanted to tackle a rope heavy fic for a while, and i'm determined to do it justice! We're in the home stetch now (< lying), and i'm hoping to have this thing up by the end of July as it's one of my MCYT Co-Create pieces.

Aight that's enough rambling for now, if you're reading this have a wonderful timezone :DDD

[proosh]

Heard you wanted to talk about your Bg3 AUs for Gil 👀

LMAO YEAH I DID THANK YOU <3

so putting these under the cut because it's going to be a bit long >:3c

Gil #1 (because he was my first playthrough of BG3) is a warlock, and a half-elf bastard of some elven prince who was cloistered in a monastery from a young age so he wouldn't be politically inconvenient. While he was there he developed a thirst for knowledge and freedom both, and ended up Digging Too Deep into his studies and making contact with an unfathomably ancient Great Old One -- who he befriended and made a pact with for eldritch power in exchange for letting The Old Man take up casual residence in his brain to observe and experience the mortal realm. He escaped from the cloister shortly thereafter and was interested in exploring the world and further research. Somewhere along the line he got squidnapped and had a tadpole shoved into his brain, leading to the game plotline. Unrepentant monsterfucker and all-around freak with a brain full of tentacles. T4T with Shadowheart.

Gil #2 is from a very silly heavily modded playthrough I started and will probably never finish, but he is a (also half-elven) cleric of Kelemvor who was a foundling of the order due to being a sickly child. Being an Doomguide of the Lord of the Dead is a noble profession, meaning he is someone who goes traveling to purge undead along with comfort and guide those who pass on naturally, and officiating funeral rites. This is, of course, mostly for the ironic comedy of all of death+undeath in BG3 (the presence of Withers and Myrkul especially), as well as the inherent comedy of me wanting to dress him up in increasingly silly and slutty outfits while being a goth priest of the dead and dying.

(and the stupid slutty outfit, of course:)

Both of them exist in an "RP" form that romance @grapeautumn's beloved awful Dark Urge!Fran who is a long-suffering cleric of Lathander. Sometimes my 2P!Pru, August, comes along as an "elven" (Bhaalspawn) Paladin of Tempus to form The Pr-A Team: a party composed of the worst priests anyone has ever met, ever.

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Ah man I can't wait to get to the chapter where we see the Lord of Change from chapter 9 again, who I can then finally clarify that they were not Kairos Fateweaver, but a wannabe upstart who used magic to give themselves two heads because Kairos got them and they wanted to be as cool. They're on 3 heads now (and will probably get a 4th once they get shot back into the warp again, Tzeench finds it hillarious).

But at the current pace of my writing that will be in... uh five years maybe?

As for the personality, imagine Lord of Change with 3 heads but they are all seagulls. Maximum insufferable bastard. Unfathomable potential, no brains. Favourite bird you would bully as a god of magic.

[beesmygod]

BLOODBORNE LORE Q+A PART 5: BOSSES

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

---

THE HUNTER ASKS:

there IS a connection! where queen yharnam can be found, so can her shadows! they're HER shadows, not the shadows of the city. this is a reasonable inference given they have low poly pthumerian faces under the hoods. i brightened the shit out of this screencap to make it easy to see.

the boss version is found right before you run into her (or, really, one of her projections*) in the moonside lake and the others right before we bump into her on our way to deal with mergo.

*this is some speculation but its not without backing. the real queen yharnam can summon two ghostly clones of herself who can be distinguished from the real one because they are not pregnant. the one you meet before mergo poofs like the ones she summons during her fight if you hit her.

they do suck tho. kind of a shitty fight. if youre a confederate and you summon henryk its not even fair. something DID happen in development tho. lance macdonald, who does a lot of bloodborne datamining that whips ass, recently posted a comprehensive history of this bastard: the snake ball

despite the shadows of yharnam sucking ass and being one of the weaker boss fights, i seriously think this looks way worse and it was a good idea to cut it. if i reached the end of this notoriously grueling and miserably boring level full of literally nothing but snakes just to be served another, bigger snake i would become saint patrick irl. at least they pretended it wasnt snakes at first with the current fight lol.

i dont really get the snake infestation thing. like its there and there's the whole madras twins story or whatever. but it doesnt really seem to have any attribution to any outside force. it just seems like its some shit that happens in yharnam. sucks. maybe this is supposed to be another example of the line between man and beast blurring, like the note in byrgenwerth.

THE HUNTER ASKS:

lol i love this question. i have no idea. how tf does he know its name is paarl. it sure as shit didnt tell him. "vacuous rom" at least comes from micolash but i dont know how you would know it before that. how does the hunter know its a spider. how does the hunter know ebrietas is a girl. the insane confidence to decide that mergo's wet nurse is a wet nurse is unfathomable.

i saw someone on reddit call logarius "gary" and i thought that was very disrespectful. does that help.

THE HUNTER ASKS:

i think so! not a lot of info on those guys. i appreciate their existence tho. they have a sick hat you can steal.

i guess i don't really understand how fire works in the bloodborne universe, really. laurence's burning body could be read as metaphorical but none of the fires in yharnam go out easily. old yharnam is still burning, somehow. some pthumerican enemies can cast hadoukens for no reason, for example: the pthumerian elder, those chalice dungeon enemies that look like the chapel dweller, the keeper of the old lords and their horrible dog, the shadows of yharnam............lady maria..........!

the only one i can think of that breaks this pattern are the beast possessed soul and the loran cleric who tries to kill you IRL by lighting your PS4 on fire with his AOE attack. i know i post this all the time but please watch this 30 second clip of this asshole casting nuclear winter on this poor hunter

genuinely no clue on this. fire cleanses or whatever but other than that its a mysterious force in universe that behaves oddly.

THE HUNTER ASKS:

i believe so! she's at least a cainhurst knight if her outfit is anything to go by. its such a good fight. her song on the OST is a waltz and its like they created the fight around keeping time.

---

i should cut this here. next time i can focus entirely on rom/mensis/the one reborn, etc. almost done. that post will probably be long tho.

but everyone is so wrong about what happened so you have to deal with it.

I GOT A LOT OF PROBLEMS WITH YOU PEOPLE

[writernopal]

Characters Out Of Context Tag

Tagged by the awesome @tabswrites, see her post here!

Rules: 1. Include one character quote — of your choosing ⁠— from each chapter of your WIP (or as many chapters as you'd like) 2. Give absolutely no context, save for what's between two parts of an interrupted sentence, should that occur. You may mention who said it. 3. Have fun! No pressure!

NOW I'm gonna level with you guys. I have 28 chapters in AASOAF 3 so far. Each one is for a POV of a certain character in the cast, but not all have spoken lines, hence there are not 28 quotes here. Also, some POVs are back-to-back.

Axtapor: “Ye let her go, ye bastard!”

Wilkes: “The loss of life will be unfathomable. What you speak of is complete annihilation!”

Fay: “So this is what became of it…”

Mariel: “We humans interlock our small fingers whenever we make a promise.”

Mariel: “But you trust me, don’t you?”

Axtapor: “Be they? Ye nay even know where she be. Instead here we be, the three of us. Waitin’. As a bouquet of idiots…”

Mariel: “Three? A-Are you certain?”

Axtapor: “I nay be goin’ anyplace, wee thin’.”

Fay: “Ungrateful parasite.”

Mariel: “That I stink of— of lizard…”

Wilkes: “Your intervention did little to reassure anyone of anything last time.”

Axtapor: “Ye have a right odd sense of ‘nice’.”

Mariel: “I-It’s m-my n-nerves.”

Wilkes: “You and me.”

Fay: “The Emperor. His sons. His bastards. His wives. Concubines, all of it. But ashtlat begins with him.”

Mariel: “Alright. I’ll wait up for you.”

Mariel: “Then…could you say nice things to me?”

Fay: “It is amusing that you believe I have not been as I should be.”

Axtapor: “GODS BE DAMNED!”

Mariel: “I have more to say and y-you must hear it!”

Axtapor: “Keep quiet, ye wild bitch, and do as I told ye.”

Axtapor: “I heard ye as so. Ye been free to come, just draw yer shiv back.”

Mariel: “D-Do I frighten you?”

Tagging (gently): @outpost51 @captain-kraken @autumnalwalker @writingmaidenwarrior @acertainmoshke

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend @elshells

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, inbox, or DMs!

[pazodetrasalba]

Mr Taxman

Dear Caroline:

You have to forgive my unfathomable ignorance, but it is precisely this sort of thing that (along with a set of marxist prejudices and false beliefs) made me suspicious of Economics as a science in the first place. Something like the 'reasonable' ('fair' seems too ideological a label) rate of taxation feels intuitively like it should be a very easy problem to find a solution for - more like checking the groups of order 4 than the Riemann hypothesis. And yet it feels that will all our accumulated knowledge and experience, there's nothing meaningful to be said except 'Well, 100% or nearabouts is definitely not going to be optimal'.

Even as a layman, I have encountered the Laffer Curve in internet discussions, where it is usually thrown as a weapon by anti-tax pundits to protest against any tax hike. And yet it seems that (according to wikipedia) 'the shape of the curve is uncertain and disputed among economists'.

Well, life is complicated. Checking the wikipedia entry, it seems that a precursor to the concept in included in the Muqaddimah, a book that was gifted to me by my best friend and that I should be finding the time for reading. It is quite voluminous, but I probably should quit procrastinating...

I feel like in the last 2 or 3 years I made a transition from 'bleed the bastards dry' to 'hey, actually these are the people that create wealth, innovation and prosperity, and should be incentivized as much as possible to continue doing so'. And while I feel ashamed of my old talk, and sympathize with what you said above about the tribulations encountered 'when you are trying to do business things', I feel there are probably just too many variables and zero-sum games to make any escape from this economical labyrinth merely hypothetical. Besides, there's a more complicated problem lurking behind it, int he form of the expectations we have, as modern societies, on what government should provide, and on the ways of funding such expenditures. Which is always a political and highly subjective, if not arbitrary, issue. I said before that talking about 'fair taxation' seems too ideological - perhaps the field is that it is too deontological -something I say against my usual convictions-, as considerations of justice would be derailing us from optimal outcomes for all. See how reading often you with attention and respect is corrupting me.

Quote:

Little else is requisite to carry a state to the highest degree of opulence from the lowest barbarism but peace, easy taxes, and a tolerable administration of justice: all the rest being brought about by the natural course of things.

Adam Smith

[prittyvenus]

The medium and the Nameless Ghouls

Case file 004-3 Omega file Capturing Alpha

After Phil and Terzo told the truth about what happened to them in the clergy. Sara and Phil join forces with Omega to help him find the truth and her secrets. Only to find out there's a bigger threat going after Terzo and Copia. Can they find out what is happening in the Clergy?

Sara and Phil ran toward the sound of Secondo's song. The two security ghouls stopped them from going down the tunnels.

"Hey, this Area is off-limits!" The other officers were stopped as well. Alpha's scream could be heard echoing through the tunnels.

"You all must not be down here. There's a rogue fire ghoul on the loose."

The group of officers tried to get through the heavy-set ghouls. "Excuse me, Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum."

The two ghouls raised their ears, "Who said that?" The officers rushed through the ghouls. "Hey, wait..."

Sara walks up to the ghouls. "Sorry for calling you guys that, but I need a favor from the two of you." The two ghouls look at each other and then back at Sara. "I need plenty of big fire extinguishers and any water ghouls that are available. We need to capture this ghoul."

"Um, you do realize what you are asking is dangerous?" Said one of the ghouls.

"He attacked Sister Imperator and tried to kill Copia," said Sara. "He needs to be stopped before he hurts more people."

Then Secondo's voice echoes across the tunnel. "Weave us a mist, Fog Weaver. Hide us in shadows unfathomable Wall-less maze. A secular haze."

One of the ghouls perks up his ears. "Is that Secondo?"

Yeah, and he needs our help." Sara told them.

The two ghouls looked at each other. "We'll get the word out." The two ghouls left down the tunnels.

Phil uses his heightened hearing and follows the song. Sara had a hard time catching up with Phil. "Hay Phil! Wait up!"

Phil and Sara smell a strong burning smell, and the screams of Alpha get louder. "Hurry up! We're almost to Alpha and Secondo!"

They manage to get to Alpha, and a cloud of burning smoke is swirling around him while Secondo is singing. The officers surround the cloud of smoke and draw out their guns.

One of the officers yelled, "We need to get to him somehow; the smoke won't let us through."

"Whoever is singing is in danger."

Secondo appeared from the smoke with his staff. He swings his staff; through the smoke, and the smoke moves around Alpha.

The officers fired a few rounds at Alpha, But the bullets melted to his skin.

One of the bullets hits a pipe and bursts water everywhere. Then the two ghouls came with 4 keg-size extinguishers and three water ghouls. "We got what you asked for!"

"Rodger, Phil, Alex. Grab a hose." Sara yelled

"Everyone, surround the bastard!" yelled the chief officer. Sara and Phil blast Alpha with the fire extinguisher. Then Rodger and Alex blasted next. "Spread out!" Sara and Phil went to the left. Rodger and Alex went to the right. The water ghouls began to push the water to Alpha with their powers. Secondo uses the cloud of smoke and mist to blind Alpha and gets away from the party.

Then an ice crackling sound started to appear. The burning smell began to leave. "Keep it up! We freeze him down before he can do more harm!"

Sister Imperator and Mr. Saltarian came out from around the corner and saw what was going down. Mr. Saltarian rushed to the pipes and twisted the large pressure valve and stopped the water from leaking. The water ghouls continue to splash the water on Alpha and the officers spray the fire extinguisher on him. The mist from the fire extinguisher ran out from the party. The water ghouls were tired and Alpha was frozen in place.

Secondo appears from what was left of the mist and bowed to Sara and Phil. Sara bowed back and said, "Thank you for helping us." Secondo smiles and fades away.

The two heavy ghouls drop the empty fire extinguishers on the floor. They look at Sister Imperator for instructions. "There's nothing here for the two of you, do take your leave." As she points to the empty fire extinguisher.

Some quintessence ghouls get the empty fire extinguisher and walk away. Some Special ghouls began to scrape the iced Alpha off the floor and got to work making repairs on the pipes. The water ghouls took Alpha down a long hall.

"Wait, where are you taking him?" Sara called out.

Sister Imperator stopped Sara. "You have done enough. I don't know how you got those boys to your side but I will not allow you to go any further." Mr. Saltarian gave Sara an evil stare. "Stay out of our affairs."

Sara looks at Sister Imperator "Tell that to the judge. That ghoul tried to kill you and Copia and you don't give a damn!" Mr. Saltarian walks over to Sara and grabs her arm. "No!" She said as she pulls herself away. "This is going way out of hand! Something is going on here. Whatever it is? It's coming up to get you and Copia." She looks at Mr. Saltarian. "I know you are a high-class demon and you cursed my left eye." Primo and Secondo appear from behind Sara. "Now, I'm not alone. Plus, I will find out what is going on."

Phil took off his mask and showed his face. "Two down, three to go." Puts his mask back on and takes Sara back to the mansion.

"Keep an eye on her," she said to a small silver ghoul. "If she makes any movement outside of the investigation, kill her." The small ghoul bowed and faded away.

One of the officers overheard and pretended to gather evidence from the floor. Mr. Saltarian went over and grabbed the evidence bag from the officer. "What the hell, man?"

Sister Imperator told the officer. "What happened here must remain behind closed doors." She walks away with Mr. Saltarian.

The officer walks back to the mansion. Then text Sara "Be careful, the evil witch sent an assassin on your tail."

Sara looked at her phone and saw the message. Phil looked around and saw the officer nod. Sara texted back. "Will do."

After the mansion incident Sergeant Jackson, Lieutenant Kibbles, and Detective Stevens called the officers to the meeting. The officers were tired and pissed. There were complaints about the handling of the events that happened. Sister Imperator came through the door with Copia and Mr. Saltarian. All of the officers stared daggers at her.

"Sara, can you take Copia to the other room? We need to talk to the sister in private," Sergeant Jackson asked

Copia looks confused. "It's okay; you can play video games with Fred's gaming console," Sara told Copia. Fredrick and Sara left the hall with Copia.

Sister Imperator was annoyed that she was called to the officer's meeting. Though she doesn't know that she is in hot water with the law.

Case File Closed

Case File Contents

[cognitosclowns]

What do you think Myc's human form would look like?

OH OH OH either Inconsistent or Unfathomable

There's no way smb who is

Able to project any image of himself into the minds of others

Like That (tm)

wouldn't use that to his FULL ABILITY TO MAKE STUFF MORE CONVENIENT

Shape shifting into a sorority girl to get free drinks at a party. Swapping into an employee of a store he’s at so he can steal goodies from the break room. Getting pulled over and transforming INTO the cop and then just. driving away. leaving them stunned.

yeah sure maybe he's a little reckless with it but,,, come on how many people are actually paying attention anyways? Who's gonna notice if he suddenly swaps while getting off the bus?

I ALSO REALLY LOVE THE IDEA OF HIM USING LIKE,, Amnesia Inducing Disguises

He has a face! he has eyes. and a nose. you're sure of it. probably.

Like if you look at him head-on you can't distinguish,, anything,, wrong per say, but if someone asked you 'what did that guy look like' you wouldn't have a single goddamn idea. His voice is the only thing that sticks out.

and even then you’ve gotta strain to get a solid memory of it.

It's just so much more convenient for him to,, not need to remember to mind-wipe ppl/be careful of his disguises? And his moral compass is doing kickflips so I feel like he'd have no problem just,, Vaguely Messing With People's Heads.

TYSM FOR THE LOVELY ASK <333 love this little bastard. so many options <3

[oh-yeah-i-exist]

Molten Gold - Chapter 7

Synopsis: Druig & Nara - best friends, pen pals, and idiots too stubborn to admit each other’s feelings. She assumes he doesn’t care, he assumes she’s found someone else. For over 500 years, he’s kept her letters, while she resists the urge to send more. Hopefully, the end of the world might knock some sense into them both.

Chapter: 7/8 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6)

Pairing: Druig x OC!Fem!Eternal (named Nara)

Warnings: Major violence, angsty

Word count: ~1135

A/N: One more chapter (I think) to go, guys! This was my first ever fic, after years of casual reading and secret writing, so I really appreciate everyone's likes and comments! Thanks for sticking around for all these chapters! Enjoy~

The Domo’s hatch door slides open. The Eternals’ last moments of silence are put to an end by the ominous gurgling of an erupting volcano.

Nara’s armor hugs her body perfectly, even after centuries of disuse. Stark white, with red patterned trimmings. An inverse image of Druig’s.

“When this is all done,” the telepath gives her hand a slight squeeze, scanning the rugged terrain below. “I’ll take you back to that bar, if it still stands, and we’re going to dance until we drop.”

“Are you asking me out, Dru?” Nara smiles, her eyes sparkling with adoration.

“What do you say, m’darling?” Druig raises an eyebrow. He nudges her playfully with his shoulder, and their bracelets – golden bands that serve to connect them to the Uni-mind – clink.

“It’s a date then. You’d better not be late.”

The Domo glides over the beach. As soon as their feet touch the white sand, the Uni-mind is activated, with Druig as the central link. Spreading his arms, he lets the golden celestial energy lift him up. Power surges through his veins, and he can feel them all. Thena’s grief, Sersi’s determination, Makkari’s loyalty, Phastos’s devotion to his family. Nara’s love.

The ground quakes, the planet’s crust crumbling as the newborn Celestial emerges. Druig’s eyes take on a golden hue, and his mind makes a tenuous connection with Tiamut’s. The god-like being, still half buried in the ground, halts as he grapples with the unfathomable depths of its psyche.

He’s still suspended in the air when a searing pain in his back breaks his concentration. The impact throws him out of balance, and he plummets unceremoniously to the beach beneath.

Ikarus.

The traitor swoops down like a hawk on prey, pulling Druig up by his neck. The other Eternals, suddenly released from the Uni-mind, are nowhere near.

“I should have done this 500 years ago,” Ikarus groans, dragging his former comrade up into the air. Gaining more height until he finally decides to let go.

And there’s nothing Nara can do as Ikarus murders the love of her life – pummels him without mercy into the side of the volcano, burying him under six feet of rocks and lava.

She can hear Makkari’s gut-wrenching scream, but she herself cannot utter a single sound.

“It’s over,” Ikarus doubles back, as if to gloat. “Druig’s gone.”

Big mistake. Makkari moves too quickly for him to react, running endless circles around him, while Nara conjures up flames. A tornado of fire and sand. Suffocating the bastard.

But they both know it wouldn’t be so easy. Ikarus takes but a couple of moments to regain his composure, laser vision piercing through the women’s combined attack.

Makkari breaks off, unleashing a barrage of sonic booms to force Ikarus back. Grabbing him by the back of his neck and shoving him roughly against a cliffside.

When he manages to repel her, Nara immediately takes over. Double, triple jabs with her spear’s blazing blade. Relentless slashes, going for the throat. Or those wicked eyes.

The appearance of the Deviant responsible for Gilgamesh’s demise makes little difference, even as it draws Thena away from the fight.

Nara sees nothing but red. Her entire body coated with raging flames, pushing her muscles to the limit. Breaking through Ikarus’s parries with sheer ferocity. One misstep on his part, and the blond finds himself with cuts all over.

“Enough!” He fumes, rocketing off into the sky.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Phastos sneers, deploying contraption after contraption. Linking up the machines, creating an indestructible web in which he ensnares Ikarus.

“I’ve always wanted to clip your wings!” Shouts the inventor, bringing the strongest Eternal to his knees.

Makkari and Nara catch their breath, the latter still bristling with hate.

“It’s not going to hold,” Nara observes in a hushed tone. In the split second before he breaks out of his chains, she gets ready.

“They work…” Phastos stares in awe as the redhead leaps up after Ikarus. Under the soles of her feet are the wheels he’s crafted, spinning rapidly, little circles of fire.

The two warriors collide mid-flight. Going toe to toe. Nara brings one foot forward, fist extended all the way to the elbow. Body sinks downwards, gathering power in the upswing. Her fist makes contact with his chest plate. Ikarus recoils, grasp backward with left palm, hit straight with right fist. The blowback from their punches sends shockwaves through the surrounding area.

“I told you,” Ikarus glowers at her. His knuckles ram into her left cheek. His hands close around her neck. “I will kill you.”

“You’re pathetic,” she spits out.

“You’ll regret that,” Ikarus begins climbing higher and higher into the atmosphere. All the while his grip constricts around her throat. It’s getting harder to breathe. Impossible to speak.

But she’s not done yet. She’ll make him pay. Even if it means burning herself up.

火

It was a close call. The humans must have been spewing nonsense when they say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. Druig finds himself entertaining no such thoughts as he claws his way out of the rubble.

It wasn’t Ikarus’s intention, but that jerk has sent Druig straight to the source of the Emergence. The mouth of the volcano, oozing with lava.

The sun is a shock to his eyes once he’s back above ground, and his lungs are assaulted by the copious amounts of ash in the air. Worse for wear, but very much alive.

He can barely make out the outlines of Sersi’s armor through the smoke, but the green is unmistakeable. And standing near her is a smaller figure, clad in teal. He picks up his pace when he realizes Sprite has, quite literally, stabbed Sersi in the back.

All around, mirages appear. Mirror-images of the original volcano.

“It’s over now,” Sprite is giving a little speech, “We get to start anew, on another planet.”

Druig picks out a rock. Any rock, really. The first thing he can grab. And with years’ worth of annoyance, he hits the littlest Eternal over the head. Effectively laying her out.

“Well, that was very moving,” he mocks, discarding the rock and bending down to pull Sersi up.

“Thank you,” The new Prime takes care of Sprite’s knife by transforming it into liquid. Slightly shaken up by such a turn of events.

“I can’t do this,” Druig admits. “This is your fight now.”

Sersi nods affirmative. “What’s wrong?” She asks, as Druig stares off into the distance, a look of horror written all over his face. She turns to look in the same direction.

“Is that…?”

A streak of reddish-orange hurtling through the clouds. Like a comet crashing to Earth, heading straight for the ocean. But it’s too small to be a comet.