#as soon as i figure out how to illustrate that its all over

[elitadream]

Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, wordlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.

-

There it is, folks. My last entry for the body swap concept I shared over the past few weeks. 🤲💝 This is a direct continuation of these two scenes that I wanted to explore through both illustration and text. I hope you've enjoyed this tangent! I will surely revisit it again at some point. ^-^

(Full scene below the cut 📝)

-oOo-

Mario stared, mouth agape, frozen in place.

He had been about to voice his surprise as he had looked up and spotted a second figure walking into view, but had fallen silent the second he had recognized who it was. Unable to finish his sentence. Unable to articulate a single word.

The man currently standing a short distance away from him appeared similarly struck, as if lost in a daze. His eyes were wide open and his stance unsteady, but his breathing was slow. Quiet. Calm, even. His hand slid from the rocky surface on which it was resting, and he shuffled his feet slightly as he stood a little straighter. A movement that Mario had seen a million times before and knew by heart. The detail was painful in its candid simplicity, the familiarity it emanated feeling both out of place and strangely grounding. The young man blinked, his shoulders dropping somewhat, and Mario noted that his expression wasn't one of horror or dismay.

It was one of solemn awe and sympathy.

Mario felt his jaw twitch and move feebly, but no sound came out. Distantly, he registered Princess Peach gently patting his neck in support, her touch warm and comforting. He could feel his eyes begin to sting as he swallowed, then resolutely tried again.

"L-Luigi?" He finally whispered, his voice wavering.

It didn't seem real.

Mario wasn't sure how long he had remained chained up in his cell, although the time he had spent imagining the worst scenarios imaginable had seemed to him like an eternity. The confinement and loneliness, he could handle. But no punishment or torture remotely equaled the threat that Bowser had dropped as he had turned to him, his human features distorted by an ugly and cruel sneer.

"If you do anything to try and get out of here, they're dead. That lovely Princess you're so enamored with? Dead. That miserable coward you call your brother? Also dead. I guarantee you I will kill them both, and I will make sure they thoroughly suffer to make you pay for it. Is that understood?"

Mario had already been heavily restrained at this point, faced with a squad of Bowser's best guards and Kamek hovering menacingly above them, wand in hand. But that didn't matter. He might as well have been alone with the tyrant, free and fully capable of defending himself; the dark promise would have halted him in his tracks all the same, paralyzing him with an identical wave of sickening dread.

He had only managed to give a single, haggard nod in response, and as soon as the malevolent king had departed with his troops, he had caved under the weight of his own despair. There, left alone to rot in the deepest dungeon of Bowser's fortress, he had spent many hours stagnating in emotional agony, overwhelmed by a crushing feeling of helpessness and guilt.

This was all his fault. He had fallen into his enemy's trap, and now his loved ones were in grave peril because of his foolishness. Worse yet, he couldn't protect or even warn them.

It was a nightmare come true, and the torment it had plagued him with ceaselessly had made it impossible for him to rest or think about anything else, exhausting him beyond his limits.

He was still reeling from the shock and astonishing surge of hope he had felt when the princess had entered his cell. To see her there, alive and well, reaching to offer him any form of reassurance she could despite his horrendous mistake and appearance had felt almost like an absurd dream in itself…

But to find Luigi there as well stunned Mario in a way that he couldn’t put into words even if he tried. To think of all that his little brother had braved for him - and still continued to brave, even now - was absolutely staggering.

Mario was vaguely aware of the sound of Peach's voice as she offered him a few hushed words of encouragement, but he could barely hear her. His mind felt as though it was wrapped in a thick layer of wool, fuzzy and packed. The prickling sensation at the corner of his eyes intensified, making his vision blurry and unfocused.

Luigi took a tentative step forward, then another. He was being cautious, his movements measured and small. Something in his demeanor told Mario that he wasn't doing this out of unease, or to mentally steel himself, but for another reason entirely. He was observing him attentively, trying to gauge his reaction, and it was suddenly clear that Luigi was being careful for his sake instead of his own.

The pressure at the back of Mario's throat became all at once suffocating, and he made a choked noise as he tried to press himself further against the wall he had backed into, hiding his beastly face in his hands.

"Per favore… Non avvicinarti di più", he whimpered brokenly, vainly trying to conceal himself from view.

He didn't understand how Luigi could remotely find it in himself to look at him, and less even approach him. His little brother had always been frightened of fierce creatures. Mario recalled many nights where he had held Luigi close when they were young, assuring him that no monster would ever come near him. What good could he accomplish now? In a cruel twist of fate, he was stuck as the one thing he had vowed to protect Luigi from, and there was nothing he could do to change his predicament.

He couldn’t handle the mere thought of his brother staring at him with terror in his eyes. He just couldn't. It would be too much for him to bear.

"N-non ti v-voglio spaventare", he stuttered weakly, amidst the ragged breaths shaking his entire form.

There was no audible response to his plea, and for a few harrowing seconds, Mario believed he was alone once more. Wondering, despite himself, whether he had wished so dearly to see Luigi and Peach again that he briefly managed to persuade himself that they were indeed there with him. But then, he heard a faint sigh, and was deeply startled when two very small hands took hold of his own, gently prying them away. The contact was meek but insistent, and Mario found that he didn't have the resolve nor the willpower to fight it. Gradually, his clawed paws were withdrawn from his face as he heaved and shuddered, his eyes still shut tight in mortifcation.

He couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. He was petrified.

"Ciò non potrebbe mai accadere…"

With a start, Mario gasped and looked down to see Luigi fondly shaking his head. He was smiling, albeit in a pained and wobbly manner, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. His gloved fingers went to cup the underside of his jaw, grazing the scaly area in a gesture completely devoid of hesitation, and with seldom seen certainty, he serenely held his gaze.

"…caro fratellone," he added in a fragile murmur, before leaning forward and past his snout.

Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, worldlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.

"Sei qui! Sei davvero qui!" He repeated like a mantra, sobbing profusely.

"Io sono qui," Luigi returned, his kind voice muffled against his neck. "Non vado da nessuna parte."

Never had Luigi been the one to comfort a scared and distraught Mario before, but in this exact moment, nothing felt more right. They both needed this, they knew, and for more reasons than one.

Standing respectfully off to the side, Peach looked on as Luigi whispered something else in Italian, causing both brothers to huff in incredulous mirth. She watched as Mario ever so gently angled his head downwards, ruffling Luigi’s hair with his cheek as he lightly stroked his back. And as she did, it occurred to her with stark clarity that they were really - and truly - two halves of a whole. Separating them seemed as awful and unnatural a thought as a world existing without either night or day. It was simply inconceivable.

Walking out from the shadowed spot where he had quietly observed the whole exchange, Junior wandered closer and stopped a few timid steps away from the princess, his gaze riveted on his feet.

"I understand, now," he mumbled dejectedly.

Peach turned to the young prince, giving him a soft and curious look. Before she could inquire about his statement, he feebly kicked at the dust and joined his hands behind his back, purposely averting his eyes still.

"I understand why this was so important to him," he elaborated, designating Luigi with a slight jerk of his chin. "Why he did all of that, and why he wouldn't back down. I didn't know they were so…"

He trailed off as he looked at the bros, a glimmer of wistfulness and empathy shimmering in his eyes.

"Inseparable?" Peach supplied for him, knowingly.

He nodded, his outwardly nonchalant demeanor however made less than convincing by his troubled frown.

"Do you… Do you think there's a chance Mario will still want to be my friend?" He eventually asked, his voice plaintive and small.

Peach blinked at him in mild shock, and with a compassionate smile, she bent down to his level.

"You have reunited him with his brother," she reminded him, emphasizing the sheer significance of that fact through her tone. When he tried dismissing it with a rueful shrug, she laid a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look at her. "You did a wonderful thing, and we're all very grateful for it. Mario loves you very much no matter what. He'll want to thank you himself, no doubt."

Though he tried not to let it show, Junior was visibly elated and relieved by her response. He rocked on his heels with a boyish grin, looking proud and hopeful for the first time that day, and Peach found that his enthusiasm was contagious. With a pleased hum, she smoothed out her dress and motioned for him to follow her just as Mario and Luigi finally parted.

They didn't know how they would solve this issue, and if they were all honest with themselves, they were also very apprehensive about what was yet to come. But something had changed. They no longer felt defeated, lost or isolated. Where there had previously been nothing but fear and sadness, there was now love and support. A newfound assurance and sense of security. A powerful warmth that helped soothe the pain.

They were all together again, and this already felt like a victory in itself.

-oOo-

#Mario #Luigi #Princess Peach #Junior #Bowser Jr #Body swap #personal concept #family #comfort #love and support #brotherly bond #feels #hurt/comfort #reassurance #story #drabble #fanart #super mario bros

[dancy-nrew]

Happy Secret Samol @humanmorph !!! Yo ho ho a pirates life for you!

Id in alt text and also below the cut for legibility

Image one: An Alise Breka book cover. The illustration (meant to resemble an oil painting) features Leap and Figure A back to back, Figure A closer to the camera and Leap behind them. Leap is in a tie dye hoodie, Figure A has a dramatic collar welded to their round torso. Each are holding a sword and fending off attacks on all sides. Laser beams zip across the screen. The title of the book is “High Seas and Distant Stars” and is written on a yellow band across the top of the page. There is a simplified drawing of palisade as a logo for Palisade Publishing. There is a barcode across the bottom left.

Image two and three: Mockup of the inside of the book. Text reads:

The pirate captain, devastatingly handsome — or devastating and handsome, if you put the question to the unlucky sailors across many planet’s seas — lounged about the deck of the ship. A foul wind had blown through the port in the night, and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Disadvantageous, and perhaps more terribly, incredibly dull. Exeter Leap had faced down gods and kings and only laughed in their faces; to be trapped here by a measly turn in the weather made his plating itch.

They’d been here a week already, despite no small effort to leave. Unloading, his first mate insisted, takes time if they want it done properly. Leap had insisted he’d never done anything properly in his life and didn’t plan on starting now, but Figure A had tilted their head in that way they had and explained that properly meant more money, which, he supposed, was hard to argue with. Especially considering their other delay. The Bluebird had taken substantial cannon fire in their last battle, and was desperately in need of repairs, as well as the more tedious maintenance work that went into keeping a ship of its size and purpose in fit fighting shape.

So the minutes ticked into hours ticked into days, and here they are, still.

“I’m not a man meant to stay still,” he complains, staring out over the roiling waves.

”Still: up to and including the present or the time mentioned, or still: not moving or making a sound?”

Leap jumps, but only slightly. A pirate can never be too surprised, but he hadn’t realized he had company, lost in thoughts as turbulent as the sea. The familiar red and gold form of his friend leaning next to him is a welcome sight. “Oh- Uh. Both. Either. Not still here, or still physically.”

Figure A nods in easy understanding. They’re better at patience, at being in one place, but Leap thinks they have something restless about them, too. They lean forward as if they have something more to say but then-! A shout! The familiar blistering heat of a laser beam sipping past inches from his face! A scorch mark across metal! Leaps springs into action as

FREE READING PREVIEW LIMIT REACHED

FULL BOOK DOWNLOAD: 45 GLINT

INSTALLMENT PAYMENTS AVAILABLE !

WHOLE BOOK IN 4 ACTS, EASY PAYMENTS OF 15 GLINT EACH!

EXTRAS AND BEHIND THE SCENES CONTENT (AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CAPTAIN HIMSELF!) 25 GLINT!

Image four: A series of sketches of Leap and Figure A.

First sketch; Leap has his arms crossed saying “Thats not how any of that happened!” as he looks over Figure A’s shoulder as they read the book. They laugh and say “I think it’s fun!

Second sketch; Figure A points at the cover and says “Look at my cool collar” as Leap leans forward to look at it and says “it is pretty sick…”

Third sketch: Leap welding a big metal pirate coat-like collar onto Figure A’s torso as they giggle

Fourth Sketch; Leap grins and asks “How’s that?” Figure A says “Thank yo-“ but bonks their face into the collar as they turn their head

Fifth sketch; very small at the bottom of the page. Leap has a hand over his mouth. Figure A’s head slumps forward as they sigh.

#fatt #my stuff #friends at the table #id in alt text #Exeter Leap #Figure A #secret samol 2023 #secret samol

[nguyenfinity]

Long post incoming 'cause I really enjoyed making this but timeline project!! Parameters were to show a timeline using pop culture references so I did the life of a neutron star with Madoka Magica (specifically Homura's arc during the main series)!!

For some meta/symbolic/design purposes I inlaid it in a clock :]

This is a 16-inch clock btw, the design itself is like 14 inches-- Stages Nebula: Inception of a star; the gravitational collapse of dust clouds forms its base. Akemi-san's been in the hospital for some time due to a heart condition. She hasn't been to school in quite a while, so I'm sure she'll run into a lot of difficulties. Make sure you all help her out, okay?

Protostar: The protostar spinds rapidly, causing further collapse of the nebula. The star keeps spinning, trying to reach equilibrium between its internal forces and gravity. I-I'm A-Akemi H-Homura... I, uh... I-It's nice to meet all of you. T-Tauri: Energy comes from gravitational forces since the temperature is too low for nuclear fusion. The star enters the main part of its life when it can finally start nuclear fusion and achieves equilibrium. Hey, don't be so nervous. We're classmates, after all. Main Sequence: 90% of the star's life; fusion continuously occurs until hydrogen is depleted, initiating the death of the star. Homura-chan, I'm really glad we became friends. Red Supergiant: The star swells up to a massive size; nuclear fusion can still occur until the star forms an iron core. We can do this together. We'll beat the Walpurgisnacht, just the two of us.

Supernova: As soon as an iron core forms, the star instantly collapses in on itself from the sheer force of gravity. THIS time, instead of her protecting me, I want to become strong enough to protect her!

Research/more design notes below the cut

There were so many directions to take (as you can see, like lifespan of a star would also be very viable for Rinne) but pmmm is so near and dear to my heart that it would've felt criminal not to do it and especially for like. A golden idea, like I think I hit conceptual gold--

It was so hard picking a singular route 'cause there's so many ways a star's life plays out and so many fitting storylines (Godoka for a neutron star, Akumura for black hole, magical girls in general etc) but I also had to take the physical presentation into account 'cause we were allowed to do that however, and Homura's main story arc fit really well because of the time loop and how clocks are. Yeah (and also the symbolic meaning of it being a clock)

There's more symbolism in the specific route I chose being a neutron star because those are the densest object ever, like how Homura repeating that month over and over again kept converging fate onto Madoka worse and worse--

i literally had a presentation with this and I couldn't think of what to say and if i recall anything i'll add it in the replies but MAN this project was so so fun (not the illustration part. i hit major artblock when trying to figure out how to draw it.)

#sana school stuff #madoka magica #pmmm #this actually got done way way back in february but i hadn't posted it until now dgfhjhkjgkh #'cause i wasn't 100% sure of the execution at the time but i worked hard on it so #or how to like. structure the actual post #in the future i'd like to revisit this or make other variations #every neuron in my brain activating when madoka magica #weeeeeeeee #do. do you like how main sequence. where 90% of the star's life. is their friendship and the leadup to walpurgis. i do. i love it

[the-local-lurker]

Ectoberhaunt Day 17: Blood

Danny tries to find a reliable method to clean his ectoplasm contaminated blood from his clothes - there's a reason his parents always wear hazmat suits.

(748 words... and an illustration!) (a fair warning: it's probably not very good, I'm just trying to practice)

_______

It started out simple enough. He changed into his human form after a nasty fight and before he knew it, the side of Danny's t-shirt was soaked red with his blood, giving off strange green glints every now and then. Unfortunate, but not that bad. 

Or that's what he thought, until he tried to wash it and realized that nothing worked. Not the usual things he used, and not even the tricks he found on the internet. Soap, water, baking soda, soaking, hydrogen peroxide, bleach…

“Ah!” 

Bleach was a bit surprising.

Danny jerked his hand away from the sizzling brownish mess that was gradually eating away at the poor fabric of his favorite t-shirt, almost knocking over the white canister of bleach nearby with the sudden movement. Good thing that he had a few shirts like that. 

He shook his fingers, slightly reddened and stinging from where they came into contact with the substance. It took him about a second of watching it bubble and increase in volume to deem it a lost cause and to hurriedly stuff it into the ecto-waste bag from the lab, whatever material it was made from thankfully withstanding the corrosive effects of the chemicals. Despite his swift action, a few leftover bubbles made it onto the floor, and proceeded to pop almost immediately, leaving nothing but a few small indentations in the tiles. 

“… Man. I can't believe I use this thing regularly.” Danny mumbled, shooting a look at the canister. 

So, that is a bust then.

Shaking his head, he stood up and lifted it, he should put it back in its place. And get rid of that bag. 

The next morning, Danny frowned at his closet in irritation, looking at the splotchy stains visible on a couple of his t-shirts. He had four clean ones left, and a few on which the blood wasn't that noticeable or easily covered. One would think that with how fast he heals, this would be far less of a problem, but no. That would mean things going well for him for once and we can't have that.

... He'd have to get this figured out soon if he doesn't want to dodge even more questions, if only about why he suddenly insists on doing his laundry by himself.

Well, he'll think about it in school. Not much else he can do about it for now. He grabbed some clothes and quickly got ready. Shortly, he was leaving through the front door, yelling out a quick goodbye to no one in particular – it pleased him a little when he heard his parents respond from the basement – and headed out. 

The walk to school was uneventful, and it was kind of sad how this was becoming a reason to feel uplifted. By the time he stood before the looming building, he still had time to spare, perfect. 

____

“It sucks. Better outcome–no effect, worse outcome–when I tried bleach, it got all corrosive.” Danny threw up his hands in frustration as he walked to class with Sam and Tucker. 

“Well, then you've got no other choice but to try random stuff until you discover something that works... What abooout… baking soda? Peroxide? Too obvious… lemon juice?” suggested Tucker, reading from his PDA.

“Nah, I tried all of that, among, like, twenty other things. I'm pretty sure there are literally no methods left,” answered Danny, sounding equal parts irritated and resigned.

“Even that detergent thing your parents made specifically for ectoplasm?” 

“Yep. That smudged it a little, I think, but it's not really enough to be useful,” 

“Have you tried stuff like sea salt or sage? Y'know, old school ghost purifying things? Might work on that too.” Shrugged Sam.

"I didn't. But that's..." Danny paused briefly, considering, before nodding: “that's worth a shot. Where do I get it?” 

Sam grinned. “I've got you covered. I'll bring it to school tomorrow. You better take some rubber gloves or something though. If it works, it's not a stretch to say that it'll work on your skin too."

“Got it. Thank you, Sam, you're a lifesaver.”

____

What the hell, it works.

It took a few tries and combinations with other washing supplies, but finally, it works! 

Danny will have to remember to thank Sam again after he's done with this, the relief he felt when he saw the dark spot gradually smudge and lose its saturation was stronger than he'd care to admit.

No more worrying about this particular problem.

Good.

#danny phantom #dp #ectoberhaunt23 #please don't mind me #Just practicing #I hope it's not *too* bad #my writing #if it even counts as that #my art #i actually tried with the drawing #I think i did a relatively decent job with the lined stuff #but i still can't get the hang of backgrounds #backgrounds are hard #also #how do I even begin to draw his hair???

[biinaberry]

Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore! Messed up Jimmy lore!

My backstory deals with the theme of loss and guilt which spans 3 generations of the Solidarity family tree. As such below I provide a family tree to help illustrate.

Warning: massacres, skinning and blood This story is really long as well

The Solidarity family was the head of Tumble town for a few decades by this point. The oldest daughter of the Sheriff, Rosemary, was newly crowned the Sheriff of Tumble Town after experiencing her metamorphosis and turning into a Rosy Boa.

A few months after this happened a bandit by the name of Harbinger enters Tumble Town and starts to reek havoc often in the form of stealing from the locals or opening animal pens. Eventually Rosemary catches him behind the town's bank and realizes its her childhood friend Jebediah. She makes a deal that if he cuts out his tomfoolery she'll make him her deputy and he of course agrees (mainly due to an old crush he had on her mixed with being legally able to cause mischief).

The relations between Tumble town and Stratos is just as shit as they are during Jimmy's era. With a long history of the two taking pot shots at each other in some form of trying to prove one is better than the other. During a meeting between Stratos and Tumble Town, Joel tries to tease and make fun of Rosemary. However, she just shrugs and continues on with the meetings, being a surprise to his father (Zephyr) and Joel since previously all the other Sheriffs were hot tempered. Rosemary has 4 siblings so the constant stress of her siblings gives her a little more patience than the rest of her family. But she still has just as wild of a temper when she does reach her limits. With the new Sheriff having the remarkable ability of patience it allows a neutral sort of relationship between the two empires but Zephyr still can't stand the town. He has more experience with the past sheriffs than Joel who only experienced Rosemary's father and herself. Joel and Rosemary then form a business relationship where the two will try their best to be formal, but never encroach into the friends category. They do still harbor major resentment towards each other's empires and are fully willing to defend their own empire with their entire being. At the same time the relationship between Jebediah and Rosemary starts to grow as the two of them fall back into their old dynamic when they were kids. With Rosemary being the one to often follow the rules while Jebediah is fully willing to cause pranks and mischief if it means he gets what he wants. During his time training under Rosemary he started to notice the lack of respect other empires had for the Sheriff. Often muttering under their breath how the don't trust the words of a snake to hold the truth. Or bringing into question the statements she makes during meetings. Rosemary then asks Jebediah if he can do the trade deals since she noticed how trusting the other emperors were when talking to him instead, and he agrees. Still furious over the lack of respect for his friend (and then girlfriend at the time) he would sabotage other empires and make them unable to fulfill their quota for a trade and thus, they owe the town some more for compensation. He almost got caught a few times but he'll keep doing it after surprising Rosemary the first time they got more supplies in a shipment. However she soon figures out what Jebediah is doing and tells him to stop, except for the Goblands because she can't stand their emperor. Eventually the two have a simple wedding in tumble town as Joel not so sneakily drops off 2 barrels of wine for the newly weds and Rosemary just drags him to one of the farther areas of the wedding so the three of them can have a friendly conversation. They thank him for the drinks and Rosemary especially doing a fake second toast to the fact the two empires aren't trying to kill eachother. Joel just shakes his head before Jebediah dares to see if he can drink the whole barrel and Rosemary nearly strangles him. Later down the line Joel and Rosemary almost agree to forming an alliance between Stratos and Tumble Town. Joel sadly returns saying the alliance was denied by his father since he still doesn't trust tumble town and Rosemary concedes. She does suggest that once he becomes emperor then nothing should be able to stop them. A few months pass before Joel returns again, now 11 ft tall and hulking over everything as the town nearly scream. Rosemary comes rushing out and her jaw hits the floor before asking if he needs a shrinking potion and to please not crush her to death by accident. Joel laugh, sits down before picking Rosemary up to say his metamorphosis finally happened and Rosemary cheers. Rushing back inside to slowly drag out Jebediah who hurt his feet by wearing too small shoes and complains about it. The three of them have a mini celebration of Joel's metamorphosis. Joel questions why she is trying to throw a party and she says "Whether ally or enemy everyone should be excited for the chance of progress! Even if it you who could pioneer it" with a snide remark as Joel flicks her shoulder and the three start to drink the storage of wine and chocolate cake. 

Joel returns again in a few months and confides in Rosemary that he's angry over the fact that Zephyr hasn't given him the title of emperor yet. Rosemary tells him to take a dip in the ocean south of here, count how many types of fish he saw then return to her. He does and when he grumbles back why she told him to do that she said "I had to take your mind off of your father by giving you a new task. Works on Jebediah when he starts to get fed up with other emperors. Now go home and simply just ask your father why you aren't given the crown yet. More often than not there is an actual reason" and Joel groans but concedes and flies back home. She then receives a letter stating his father doesn't believe it would be safe to thrust all of Stratos onto Joel so he'll start giving him small increments to control before eventually he can balance managing all of Stratos. And Rosemary smugly sends back "Told ya idiot." A year or 2 passes before Joel returns to Tumble town without the prospects of trade and asks for Rosemary again. She is happy to see him again before questioning if he already ran out of gunpowder before he whispers if there is any place they can talk alone. Rosemary stops for a sec before saying "yes, come into my house" as Joel shrinks down and enters the premises. Joel vents to her again that he once again swears his father doesn't trust him because he's running all of stratos now for Months yet still he wont give him the title of king. Rosemary scowls and questions why he hell he isn't while Joel immediately responds with "That's what Im asking!". After some time Joel bids farewell to Rosemary before almost walking into Jebediah who is carrying 2 kids. The two stare at eachother before Joel mutters "Are those the gremlins you mentioned in your letter?" and Jebediah just nods before asking if Joel wants to hold one. "So which one is Finch and which is Jacob?" "The black haired one is Jacob, the brown haired is Finch." "Thank me they aren't identically imagine calling both of them the wrong name their entire life" "Want to bet you'll misname them? "Absolutely" before they part ways again. When Joel returns again he instead is faced with Jebediah, stating that Rosemary is currently out on a deal trade. Joel says he's about to leave then but before taking off Jebediah questions "He doesnt trust you" Joel backtakes and turns around. "What?". "What if he simply doesn't see you as worthy. That in his eyes no matter what you do, you aren't worth it. What then Joel?" Joel takes a breath before flying away but the doubt already enters. Over time as he keeps returning to tumble town he keeps running into Jebediah instead, and over time his anger towards his father starts to grow until Jebediah simply states "why not take it." And that forms a plan.

Joel gives Jebediah an artifact from stratos, an old lasso, that allows any god to be yanked from the islands. See in stratos there is a magical barrier that protects the gods from being attacked by mortals. This has prevented wars in the past since only the humans down below would be killed. The lasso bypasses this barrier and they plan for Jebediah to lasso joel's father and drag him to tumble town, and he does

Jebediah nails Zephyr to a stake in the middle of the desert and then waits a few days before telling joel he did the job. Joel comes down, tries to break the ropes and realizes he cant. The lasso can only be loosened by the one who used it and flies to tumble town to try and find jebediah but he is missing. Rosemary is also missing from the town. Every day he returns to the stake site, trying to free his father but nothing works.

While in a meeting Joel suddenly is able to feel the electricity in the clouds and realizes something is deeply wrong. Since every successor god gains the ability to control lighting from the prior emperor. He flies to the mesa and sees Jebediah standing next to his father but as he gets closer he realizes that he is carving out chunks of his skin, using them as parchment. "They say the words of god are stronger than any mortal sword, I wonder if their body is just as useful as their voice"

Joel enraged, tries to grab Jebediah but he evades his grasp and suddenly disappears. He then storms into tumble town and yells for Rosemary for which she immediately turns up worried over why Joel sounds so angry and confronts her. He demands to know if she knew anything about Jebediah's plans and she of course says no. Joel is about to believe her until he connects that how else would jebediah know about his plight if he specifically only confided in rosemary. Connecting in his brain that she had to have told jebediah about his worrie he growls that he doesnt believe her. Rosemary slithers back confused, repeatedly saying that she has no clue what he is talking about, what did jebediah do? what happened? Before trying to run inside of her house as joel grabs the back of her tail. Asks her one more time and as she says no he crushes her head

Jebediah returns thinking he escaped Joel.

And sees the corpse of his wife instead. He tries to attack joel but he just grabs his body and starts to drag him into the tumble town mines before landing by a lava pit. He chains jebediah up, grabbing a bucket of lava, and forcing jebediah to drink it. His insides burn as his skin turns into charcoal and obsidian and his organs a burning soup of lava and mush. He dies as still as a statue and Joel returns home. Unable to handle the fact that his father is permanently dead and eventually realizes he did the exact same thing. Finch and Jacob were then raised by his aunts and uncles before Finch experiences a metamorphosis and becomes the next Sheriff. Tumble Town is still grieving the loss of Jebediah and Rosemary and as the feelings of sadness and anger compound on eachother, the town plans to do their own form of revenge at the god. The town, spearheaded by Finch confront the god and as the god looks down at the very conflict he caused, he dissociates and acts upon his instincts. When he finally focuses back on reality the battle field is covered in the corpses of Tumble Town's people. He is standing in the middle of the town and it is completely demolished. No one remains, no one survived, a massacre that lasted the span of a week. The god flees. A newly formed ghost town waves him goodbye.

The blood of the massacre spread all across the land. Every grain of sand, every crevice was touched by the iron of its people. Eventually pooling into the once plentiful mines, dripping into the cavern that held the deputy. As the blood poured in and coated his feet the statue came to life. A new god was formed. Created from the loss of thousands and the inability to defend themselves, The Law was formed. The very many who could be credited as the one who started it all.

Stratos's followers often question why Death was never the emperor of Stratos. Why the god alive for millions of years never stepped up to the plate, but she simply smiled under her veil and mutters she never likes to take an active role. But when she felt satiated for the 10th time of her existence, a mighty 3 days before it returned, she had to investigate. She lands in the ruins of Tumble town and listens to the songs the ghost sung, of their loss, of failure, and grief that there is no story to tell. But she latches on to the voice of the leader, the man who wanted justice for his parents but got none. She revives him, stitching his body back together in a crude imitation of a human, flesh made from hundreds of dead, some animal some player and asks him for his name. "Finch Solidarity"

"Well little Harbinger, how do you feel knowing you failed in all regards as a Sheriff?"

She was infatuated immediately. Death soon studied the newly revived Sheriff until the two formed the most bizarre of relationships before a child was born. His name was Jimmy Solidarity, the last child of the original Tumble Town. He was raised in the ruins of his father's home with a body close to a skeleton than a human, more resembling his mother except for his curly baby hair. His father worried for his child, that any child of tumble town would be killed immediately but Death stopped him and said there is nothing to worry about. Her son cannot be killed, not in that way. He is the son of unjust death and thus, he will cause his own tragedy. So they make him a new body created from the old trees raised in the desert. Glossed and varnished before they place the casing around the child and seal it closed. The child opened his eyes and the father's eyes widen as the once wooden appearing skin now softened, appearing almost plush or fleshy if it weren't for the wood grain. His mother gave the child a special hat, a new sheriff's hat to bind him to morality, a code to which will hold back his bloodthirsty nature. While the father worked on trying to bring residents back to tumble town.

Eventually the father rotted away, his hodgepodge body parts and skin patches unable to handle the heat of the mesa. His wife made his death quick and merciful as she took care of their child. Before she too eventually went away, leaving only one photo behind. A family photo taken when Jimmy was 1 yr old as the new citizens of tumble town took care of the child. It wasn't until Jimmy was older than he realized what he lost. Beyond just his parents, his culture was taken as well. Tumble town survived off of folk lore and oral storytelling, and as his father passed away so too did those stories vanished. Clothing and architecture kept sparse to the historical moments in the libraries across the empire. The only aspect truly documented is their history with wars, even if they are one sided, and never contained the tragedy that was committed in a week. So when a new plush toy hits the market, baring the new Sheriffs face, you have to ask. When did tragedy become commodity.

#solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #empires s2 #empires smp #son of death au #wrote this 3 hours straight #yall better like this

[pinkyjulien]

Okay now I'm gonna jump on the bandwagon of the prev ask about Valentin's and Mitch's first meeting 👀 how does his story continue with Takemura (if at all?) Does he track Valentin down, and how, or is what follows immediately after being saved and stable again also diverging from canon? (I just love the image of Goro showing up all dusty and exasperated at the nomad's camp like "There you are!! Fucking finally!" XD)

AAAAAHHH FHF Eating you UwU

They DO meet up properly eventually! 👀 (more old screenshots being used to illustrate here hfhf)

After getting his bullet extracted, Val stayed a couple of days at camp; he couldnt really do much in his state, plus the caldos wouldnt just simply let him go like that

Mitch and Scorp were keepin an eye on him, they were responsible of him after all; if Val turned out to be a danger to the clan, they would've finished the job, succeeding where Dex failed

Val eventually woke up, and he was asked a couple of basic, straight forward question by Mitch; his name, where he's from, and what happened. Val didnt lie, but he also didnt mention the whole -arasaka- thing. He might be a gonk, but he's not dumb; saying that his failed gig was an heist on Arasaka, when every radios and tv stations been blasting about Saburo's death for the path days wouldnt be a smart move fhksjgj

It was all over the news- and Dex probably left Night City too (< at that time he wasnt aware Takemura killed him yet. Dex took Goro to the dump, only to find it completly empty. He got popped before he could swear he left him here hfjd)

Infos and Rumors goes around extremely fast in NC, especially between fixers, so Dexter departure/disappearance and Saburos death wasnt a coincidence at all; so was Jackie's and Valentin's potential death. (Jackie being confirmed dead cause he sent his body to his fam, but people had no idea where Val was)

He had to get back to NC, to Viktor, Misty- his friends, the only people he had left over there

That night at camp, Valentin experienced the Johnny Night TM; of course, he freaked out, screaming and talking "to himself" - Ripper wasnt far, knew the screams where coming from the nursery and quickly gave injected him some tranquilizer

In the morning, not sure whatever happened was a dream or not, he asked Mitch and Scorp (not friends yet, but the only guys he knew around) if someone could drive him back to NC- Dakota was still around and since she had to go back to her Garage soon, he could tag along and she'd get one of her guy to drive him to Vik's

During the drive, he explained to Dakota what happened, from the heist, the relic, Jackie- ans the weird dreams he's been getting (she's like a mother figure to him, a trusted friend)

She didnt liked any of that and pressed him to get checked properly asap, hoping this might be a virus that can get easily wiped out

Once at Vik, everyone was happy and relieved to see him alive "and well", but it quickly changed when Viktor took a closer look, obviously

He also mentioned that a guy, kinda sus looking, came in looking for him the day before. Said he could help him if he ever show up. (Takemura is a resourceful guy, I'm pretty sure he could pin down V's main ripperdoc to ask questions- and Viktor, knowing that Jackie did die, would trust Takemura's story and information since it correlate with what Vik knows)

So they make contact and eventually meet up at Tom's Diner like the canon timeline 👁👄👁

Despite all the years its still a ROUGH MAP AND TIMELINE FHJSJF that I really need to properly put down 💀💀 BUT YEAH FHDJ

Thank you friendo for the ask!! 🤗🧡🧡

#God I REALLY NEED TO GET BACK ON HIS LOOOOOREEEE #I changed so much shit there I gotta make sure the points still connect you know fhsjjg #I love the OG storyline and want to swim as close to it as possible uwu to keep it logical #while making it STINKYYY #Ask #ElvenBeard #about valentin #long post #Yall got me THINKING ABOUT MY BB

[chokedraven]

The shadow of the past

Pt. 2 - Step into the light | Previous part

I had so much pain drawing this one illustration at the end. Anyway, this is already the second part, and the main characters still don't know each other's names, huh. I think I'll need to make a masterlist soon. Also I'm not a native speaker and don't have a beta reader, sorry for any mistakes here!

• • •

He wasn't late.

The working day went the same way as before, so there is no need to describe anything here. Soon Nervill was already standing at the threshold of his apartment, looking for the keys.

All day long his thoughts didn't leave this shadow creature - doubts and hope were connected in his head, and he didn't know what to grab onto, there were too many contradictions, and he could find out everything only when he returned (which is what he, in fact, was trying to do now, just need to find the damn keys)

His thoughts repeatedly boiled down to one, most realistic outcome - he is actually out of his mind and is hallucinating. But why exactly like this? Some strange shadow that appeared out of nowhere? On the other hand, wouldn’t Nervill know what the human mind is good for, so just a shadow against the background of his perverted mind couldn't look so surprising.

Meanwhile, the key finally appeared in his hand, jingling, and soon in the lock slot. With every turn, his impatience grew more and more to find out if he was imagining all this, if he had gone crazy from loneliness - or gone so crazy that he got himself an eternal roommate, and more and more he reproached himself for leaving without even trying to touch the shadow, just to somehow check...

The door swung open.

He hurriedly walked inside, looking around, as if expecting at any moment that the shadow would come out with a cheerful greeting, like a small dog.

But everything remained quiet.

He patiently closed the door behind him and took off his shoes - but there was no movement or rustle indicating the approach of the shadow boy.

Could all this really be his sick fantasy? Just hallucinations of his sleepy mind, so eager to fill the emptiness of his apartment, and for this purpose inventing an imaginary friend for him?

Determination flowed down from Nervill as his quiet steps walked into the bedroom, where his unmade bed, left in this state in the morning, and the book on the table, filled the room with their presence.

No shadows and no whispers.

Nervill frowned, and his face twisted in something similar to sadness. He didn’t know why he could feel this way at all - his acquaintance with the shadow-guy was hardly long, much less fruitful. However... he developed some kind of attachment to this creature, this feeling of safety that he felt next to it... it was just cold without it.

He stood there for a few more seconds until the last drops of hope melted into silence, and again there was emptiness.

With a tired sigh, he threw his backpack on the bed and sat down on it himself. It will soon be evening, in a good way, he should make dinner... but he just can’t. This single grain of hope led him along the path of the crossroads, and now that it was gone, he felt that he was left without a buoy, without a safe boat. Alone.

It could have been so, but, as if hearing his dark thoughts, a chill touched Nervill’s neck, and the room no longer seemed so empty.

The guy raised his head, and his gaze darted around in search of a dark figure with eyes like two moons.

The rustling caught his attention again, and he quickly turned around. A smile spread across his face as a shadow floated towards him, creeping along the wall.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" — it asked confusedly when it appeared on the wall in front of Nervill, blind to how happy he really was... without knowing why. Although no, he knew for sure.

Without further ado, Nervill stood up and walked over to the wall, already holding out his hand. The shadow didn’t even have time to blink when the guy’s hand was already on its chest - touching and stroking the wall in the place where the shadow was, trying to just understand, to feel.

There was a coldness emanating from the wall where the shadow was, as if there was an open fridge there. He experimentally placed his other hand nearby on the bare wall. There was no cold.

This means that the cold came precisely from the shadow, which means it could have been real, he couldn’t have gone so crazy, no, it wasn’t his imagination. The shadow was real.

Meanwhile, it was still looking in confusion at him and at the hand with which he was trying to touch it. This probably looked strange to those who didn't know Nervill's intentions.

He pulled away with a sigh, unable to stop the smile on his lips. It was real. There was a living shadow in his apartment. He probably shouldn't be so happy about it, but... he just couldn't hold himself.

Nervill cleared his throat and spoke after a while.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I just... wanted to check on something," — he took a deep breath. "I checked... And you are, um, really real. Which means you have something to explain to me." — Nervill crossed his arms over his chest, now looking demandingly at the shadow.

The shadow blinked in confusion, although it was clear from the resignation in its eyes that it understood exactly what he required. It sighed and spread its hands.

"Okay. But this... will take time."

Nervill nodded, softening his gaze slightly, and sat down on the floor in front of the shadow in order to be closer to it, ready to catch its every word. He was silent. Shadow too. It was like waiting for a magician to come on - sitting in front of a stage with red curtains before they finally parted. Except he thought it wouldn't be that much fun.

The shadow sighed and raised its white eyes to meet his. It had no pupils, but for some reason Nervill knew for sure that it was looking at him.

"Well... I guess we should start over. I see they didn't tell you about me, right?" — it chuckled quietly. “There were many people here before you, but... they didn’t hear. Didn’t notice. Or just ignored.”

It looked to the side.

"I lived here. Well, I mean..."

It sighed, its gaze tracing the furniture of Nervill's bedroom as he waited patiently for the shadow to speak again, gathering its thoughts.

"I was once a human. I lived here alone, studied, met with friends and everything that people do, and then... I just opened my eyes, and found myself glued to the wall as if i was part of it. I don't know... how, I don’t remember much, just one time I fell asleep in my bed, and the next time I couldn’t even walk around my apartment, just look from the side.”

It ran its hand over its face and again looked with a sad smile at Nervill, who was trying to make his face as friendly and open as possible. He didn't want to scare away the shadow, especially now, never.

"I saw people coming, there were police, there were my friends. They reported me missing, and I just... I just looked at it, unable to do anything. I tried, tried to somehow get their attention, to say I was here, but I couldn’t, they didn’t hear.”

Nervill hummed sympathetically. He wanted to provide some comfort to the shadow, to show how sorry he was... but the story wasn't over. And he didn't know if the shadow would be able to sense him at all if he provided some kind of physical contact. So he just kept listening.

"Then they started renting out this apartment. When there were no people here, I was just alone. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I couldn't do anything. I just existed, I couldn't even... I couldn't even disappear." — He frowned. “Well, I couldn’t before. Over time, I learned to just... merge with surroundings, you know? With other shadows. Then it was good, I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t see, it was like I was sleeping.”

At least something good, thought Nervill. He didn't know how he would behave if he found himself in this situation.

"Then people started coming to the apartment. I woke up every time someone was in the house. I tried to attract their attention so that someone would notice me... and I succeeded! You see, people notice something... something minor - if I just show up to people, they won't see me, they need preparation and they have to get used to the energy that always surrounds me in order to see me."

The shadow seemed more animated now, no matter how absurd it may sound. In general, the whole situation did not even remotely resemble normal, but Nervill had already come to terms with it. And it was true - those times when he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, it could have been a shadow that was watching him, seeking his attention. This may be creepy to some extent, but to Nervill, on the contrary, it even seemed comforting.

This meant that he wasn't alone, despite his thoughts.

"So you're saying that people need to get used to you before you can show yourself to them, right?" — Nervill clarified. Shadow nodded with a smile. Nerville bit his lip. "How long have you been here?"

Nervill didn't know if they already had limits on what questions they could ask and what they couldn't. He didn’t even fully know the attitude of the shadow itself towards its position - it looked resigned, I mean, as much as possible. He didn't want to cross the line or anything like that, though thinking about it now, the shadow could hardly be offended by him and disappear altogether - they were stuck here together. But even with this, Nervill didn't want to offend it, he wasn't raised that way.

The shadow's eyes softened and dropped to the floor as it pondered something.

“I... I don’t remember. At the moment when I became like this-” it vaguely pointed to its shadow form. "-It was 2018."

"2018?" — Nervill could not contain the drop of disbelief on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t believe the shadow, but... “It’s 2023 now. You’ve been in this state... for five years..?”

"It looks like this." — The shadow lowered its gaze timidly.

Nervill snorted, now looking at the shadow with confusion.

Five years? Five years of wandering around an empty apartment, five years when you can’t do anything, you can’t even tell anyone about your presence... but...

"Couldn't you just leave?" — Nerville suspected the answer. The shadow couldn’t have lived in this apartment all this time - five years - without once trying to leave.

Even Nerville would go crazy here.

Shadow sighed and shrugged slightly.

“No, but I tried. I just... couldn’t get out, it was like I was glued to this apartment, I was being pushed away from going out,” — the shadow shook its head, and perhaps it was Nervill’s imagination, but it faded a little - which was not very good. Nerville didn’t want it to just up and disappear.

It was instinctive, he wanted to comfort the shadow, he wanted to hold it, keep it with him - and his hand itself reached out to lie on the shadow’s shoulder, but instead of cold, instead of a smooth wall, he felt... woolen fabric. He felt the clothes. He didn't even have time to realize it when his fingers tightened on the fabric and pulled...

More brown fabric appeared from the wall, somewhere with patterned seams, Nervill pulled further - he belatedly realized that it was a shoulder, shadow's shoulder, he just pulled further until a head appeared from the wall, black hair, brown sweater...

His heart was pounding, his eyes were wide open, he had no control over himself, but somehow knew what he was doing, what exactly was going on - he grabbed the man from the wall by the shoulders and pulled until his whole body was outside - and the shadow was no longer there.

He rushed back, leaning against the bed, which was just nearby to provide him with support.

Nervill stared with wide eyes at where the shadow had just been, and now only the bare wall, which seemed too empty without the shadow presence, looked back at him.

The body in his arms was motionless. Only quiet wheezing announced that the shadow... who was now a man, alive.

#whump writing #whump art #whump #nonhuman whumpee #original story #oc #oc art #dude #oc whump

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

I haven't posted art in a minute and have fond myself in a dryspell, so I figured instead I would show you all a piece from a few years ago! I rarely draw fanart but Kanda Yuu from D. Gray Man is one of my favorite characers in fiction, from one of my favorite stories in fiction, and I couldn't help myself but to indulge.

There is a D. Gray Man RP I have been doing with my best friend for over 5 years(and its still GOING), and I wanted to illustrate one of the scenes from that roleplay as it was a very intimate and relaxing. The roleplay was very sporadic and intense, so quiet moments were always pleasant. I may drop some more old art of that roleplay soon as it holds an extremely special place in my heart.

Either way, I think it's also imporant to look at old art and appreciate the way your art has changed over time and what style choices you've kept. I would love to possibly redraw this in the future but for now I still adore how this turned out. I've included the WIPs/Sketch of the original scan (ew LOL) as I do want to share more WIPs on here, I've just always been all or nothing when it comes to art.

Commission Info Available Here!

#my art uwu #d gray man #kanda yuu #digital art #black and white #sketch #feel free to reblog

[foodandfolklore]

The Little Red Hen

I had an random memory pop into my head of my mom reading the Little Red Hen to a group of children. It's weird cause I'm not sure how old I am in this memory. My mom did a lot of volunteer work with our schools and helped out in field trips. I feel very young in this memory since the children around me are so young and I am so enthralled in the story. But the longer I think on it, the more I think this is when I was in my teens or early 20s working with her at a not for profit daycare.

So, with this brain worm going on, I figured I'd share the story of the little red hen. Story was first written in a US Children's Magazine by Mary Mapes Dodge in 1874. It was a short story, meant to communicate the idea that hard work will pay off. A full illustrated book version was published in 1918 by Florence White Williams. Since I wasn't able to find any copies of the story from the Magazine, I'll instead share Williams's version.

A few things about this story stood out to me, where if you look at the time it makes a lot of sense. Most modern versions of this story don't have the Little Red Hen have any chicks to look after, but in this version she does. And the mother hen struggles with the balance of looking after her chicks and making her bread. Even pointing how how the chicks feel neglected.

But the Mother Hen is not shamed by the author for it in the story. This story came out right after a massive war. Millions of people had died. Husbands and fathers were not all returning and Mothers were left to figure out how to be the new breadwinner. I think the author felt a great amount of empathy for these families, and had the opinion that communities should work together to help.

There have been lots of revisions and story tweaks over time, based on what the time period and culture expects from workers. For example, there was a version made in the 70s where the Hen was forced to share her bread with the lazy animals who did not help to make it. Soon, she lost the incentive to work and poverty hit the farm. It was written with an anti communism mindset.

Wheat Bread have good grounding properties, as well Kinship, Abundance and Prosperity. The breaking and sharing of bread is an action that invokes Peace and Friendship.

The Little Red Hen

A Little Red Hen lived in a barnyard. She spent almost all of her time walking about the barnyard in her picketty-pecketty fashion, scratching everywhere for worms.

She dearly loved fat, delicious worms and felt they were absolutely necessary to the health of her children. As often as she found a worm she would call “Chuck-chuck-chuck!” to her chickies.

When they were gathered about her, she would distribute choice morsels of her tid-bit. A busy little body was she!

A cat usually napped lazily in the barn door, not even bothering herself to scare the rat who ran here and there as he pleased.

And as for the pig who lived in the sty—he did not care what happened so long as he could eat and grow fat.

One day the Little Red Hen found a Seed. It was a Wheat Seed, but the Little Red Hen was so accustomed to bugs and worms that she supposed this to be some new and perhaps very delicious kind of meat. She bit it gently and found that it resembled a worm in no way whatsoever as to taste although because it was long and slender, a Little Red Hen might easily be fooled by its appearance.

Carrying it about, she made many inquiries as to what it might be. She found it was a Wheat Seed and that, if planted, it would grow up and when ripe it could be made into flour and then into bread.

When she discovered that, she knew it ought to be planted. She was so busy hunting food for herself and her family that, naturally, she thought she ought not to take time to plant it.

So she thought of the Pig—upon whom time must hang heavily and of the Cat who had nothing to do, and of the great fat Rat with his idle hours, and she called loudly:

“Who will plant the Seed?”

But the Pig said, “Not I,” and the Cat said, “Not I,” and the Rat said, “Not I.”

“Well, then,” said the Little Red Hen, “I will.” And she did.

Then she went on with her daily duties through the long summer days, scratching for worms and feeding her chicks, while the Pig grew fat, and the Cat grew fat, and the Rat grew fat, and the Wheat grew tall and ready for harvest.

So one day the Little Red Hen chanced to notice how large the Wheat was and that the grain was ripe, so she ran about calling briskly: “Who will cut the Wheat?” The Pig said, “Not I,” the Cat said, “Not I,” and the Rat said, “Not I.” “Well, then,” said the Little Red Hen, “I will.” And she did.

She got the sickle from among the farmer's tools in the barn and proceeded to cut off all of the big plant of Wheat.

On the ground lay the nicely cut Wheat, ready to be gathered and threshed, but the newest and yellowest and downiest of Mrs. Hen's chicks set up a “peep-peep-peeping” in their most vigorous fashion, proclaiming to the world at large, but most particularly to their mother, that she was neglecting them.

Poor Little Red Hen! She felt quite bewildered and hardly knew where to turn.

Her attention was sorely divided between her duty to her children and her duty to the Wheat, for which she felt responsible.

So, again, in a very hopeful tone, she called out, “Who will thresh the Wheat?”

But the Pig, with a grunt, said, “Not I,” and the Cat, with a meow, said, “Not I,” and the Rat, with a squeak, said, “Not I.”

So the Little Red Hen, looking, it must be admitted, rather discouraged, said, “Well, I will, then.”

And she did.

Of course, she had to feed her babies first, though, and when she had gotten them all to sleep for their afternoon nap, she went out and threshed the Wheat. Then she called out: “Who will carry the Wheat to the mill to be ground?”

Turning their backs with snippy glee, that Pig said, “Not I,” and that Cat said, “Not I,” and that Rat said, “Not I.”

So the good Little Red Hen could do nothing but say, “I will then.” And she did.

Carrying the sack of Wheat, she trudged off to the distant mill. There she ordered the Wheat ground into beautiful white flour. When the miller brought her the flour she walked slowly back all the way to her own barnyard in her own picketty-pecketty fashion.

She even managed, in spite of her load, to catch a nice juicy worm now and then and had one left for the babies when she reached them. Those cunning little fluff-balls were so glad to see their mother. For the first time, they really appreciated her.

After this really strenuous day Mrs. Hen retired to her slumbers earlier than usual—indeed, before the colors came into the sky to herald the setting of the sun, her usual bedtime hour.

She would have liked to sleep late in the morning, but her chicks, joining in the morning chorus of the hen yard, drove away all hopes of such a luxury.

Even as she sleepily half opened one eye, the thought came to her that to-day that Wheat must, somehow, be made into bread.

She was not in the habit of making bread, although, of course, anyone can make it if he or she follows the recipe with care, and she knew perfectly well that she could do it if necessary.

So after her children were fed and made sweet and fresh for the day, she hunted up the Pig, the Cat and the Rat.

Still confident that they would surely help her some day she sang out, “Who will make the bread?”

Alas for the Little Red Hen! Once more her hopes were dashed! For the Pig said, “Not I,” the Cat said, “Not I,” and the Rat said, “Not I.”

So the Little Red Hen said once more, “I will then,” and she did.

Feeling that she might have known all the time that she would have to do it all herself, she went and put on a fresh apron and spotless cook's cap. First of all she set the dough, as was proper. When it was time she brought out the moulding board and the baking tins, moulded the bread, divided it into loaves, and put them into the oven to bake. All the while the Cat sat lazily by, giggling and chuckling.

And close at hand the vain Rat powdered his nose and admired himself in a mirror. In the distance could be heard the long-drawn snores of the dozing Pig.

At last the great moment arrived. A delicious odor was wafted upon the autumn breeze. Everywhere the barnyard citizens sniffed the air with delight.

The Red Hen ambled in her picketty-pecketty way toward the source of all this excitement.

Although she appeared to be perfectly calm, in reality she could only with difficulty restrain an impulse to dance and sing, for had she not done all the work on this wonderful bread?

Small wonder that she was the most excited person in the barnyard!

She did not know whether the bread would be fit to eat, but—joy of joys!—when the lovely brown loaves came out of the oven, they were done to perfection.

Then, probably because she had acquired the habit, the Red Hen called:

“Who will eat the Bread?”

All the animals in the barnyard were watching hungrily and smacking their lips in anticipation, and

the Pig said, “I will,” the Cat said, “I will,” the Rat said, “I will.”

But the Little Red Hen said, “No, you won't. I will.”

And she did.

#little red hen #food and folklore #fairytale #folktale #fable #food fable #wheat #grains #food magic #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen witch #folklore #December #working parent #single parent #witch #food history #Hen #Chicken #children story #klickwitch

[kirnet]

this isnt an actium update sunday its an actium ramblings sunday. i keep thinking that THIS is the sunday that i can announce that chap 2 is totally done but, no. it keeps dragging on.

i already knew this before i started, but i do not like long form project lol. i need instant gratification. its the reason i post everything i paint and write the second i finish it. i get very obsessed with something for a few weeks or months (right now its dwta) that i can work on endlessly and then the fascination stops. now, projects like dwta and grave and weep are easier to get myself to work on bc 1) writing takes less than than illustration full comic pages and 2) i get feedback and comments every time i post a chapter. and once i get into that place in actium where i’m actually posting, i will have SO much more motivation omg. i really do feed off of that engagement

i know i will work faster if i treat every page as its own separate artwork and sketch, line, color, and shade each one in one sitting. but that just isn’t a good practice for the consistency of the comic. right now im doing all of a chapters worth of sketching, then all of the lines, then colors, etc etc. which while it is the best way is also the more boring way. im working to find a happy medium, and the more pages i do the more i learn to streamline my process, so i know that this frustration is only temporary

it doesnt help that im having chronic pain flare ups and that my computer keeps crapping out and that im trying to get more hours at work lol. (i did figure out the tremors situation though so yay!)

suffice to say, comic will not start coming out in june lol. new target is december and hopefully HOPEFULLY i will have more than the 5 target chapters worth by then. we’ll see. currently i have 160 pages out of the 209 needed to finish, but i should complete another 40+ very very soon. (im just in flatting hell rn lol). i have also created a lot of assets and references over the course of the first two chapters that i can reuse which will really help cut down on time.

anyways. i just wanted to thought dump about how it’s going. when it does come out i plan for it to update every other friday, and chapters 1-5 should be about 17 updates worth of content, so i should have a buffer of 34 weeks. hopefully by then ill have my shit together lol. thx for reading and all of your encouragement thus far!

#i know everything will be so much easier once i start posting i just gotta keep chugging #ramblings #actium posting

[aftonfamilyvalues]

Recommendations on worthwhile copia merch? I feel like the merch situation has become so over saturated and less quality so it's hard to find good stuff of the ratman

youre right, some of the merch downright sucks. im still not over that 70 dollar lava lamp. i have a huge issue with how many products use mock ups and concepts rather than actual pictures of the merch, ive seen the products be completly different when they do that, the valentines day tank top, for example. ive also seen a lot of complaints about the quality too, shirts mostly. luckily i havent had any issues with my stuff but ive also steered clear of the questionable and wash my shirts inside out.

for me, nothing beats the plushies. i have both cardinal and papa plushies and theyre high quality. both are well made and firm and great to snuggle. theyre the cutest little things and i love them immensely. i dress them up and buy them accessories.

the bat wing hoodie is also nice, expensive, but nice. overpriced but so are all of their hoodies. i got mine at the show i went to. the wings dont really get in the way in my opinion and the hoodie itself is very thick and warm which was good because i got rained on and it was fucking cold. i was very happy to match copia and his little bat wings though.

i frequently use the robe blanket, i have both the blue and black ones, but still have the blue one in the package, i keep the black one on the couch and need to find a place for the blue one. anyways, its a blanket, its fuzzy, itll save you from a slight chill. has a hood too which is slightly strange but whatever.

the shapeshifter bags at post mortem are good, though they dont work as backpacks for me. the designs are separate pieces they call faceplates and those snap on and off the actual bag so you can switch them out with many different designs, not just ghost. i use mine specifically to carry cardi when i take him places.

on the cheaper end of things theres the funko pop. not everyones taste but i think it came out pretty good for a simple little ugly plastic thing. sounds really bad to say that though but they havent come out with any actual copia figures so thats what we have. maybe eventually hell get one of the super7 figures...

theres also the guitar pick necklace at hot topic on the cheaper end. not the highest quality so probably not fitting for the list, its about what youd expect from a hot topic necklace... but i wear mine almost everyday and think its super cute and love to keep him close to my heart. hasnt broken yet and i always figure you can replace the chain.

and currently im waiting on the knucklebonz statue i preordered to ship. i got the black robe one and heard they should be shipping soon. I hope that one is good quality, the cardinal statues look very nice, would love to get my hands on one of those ones if the quality is good. im a little skeptical on if the final sculpt will really capture his features. its a bit of a peeve of mine when he doesnt look exactly like himself, ive skipped out on some shirts because he doesnt look quite right and it bothers me.

yeah, thats all i can think of right now. most of the stuff is priced by crackheads so i try to take advantage of sales. also dont be afraid to browse artist/photographer stuff, they sell prints and stickers and keychains and pins. jonny bush is a great artist, hes done tons of official designs for ghost and sometimes sells prints. he also has a patreon if you want to see some nicely illustrated ghost porn.

#ask #fazmeritus

[crazysodomite]

--

sigh... i basically never attended a full week of school. at a certain point i only attended a few days a week and maybe showed up for 1 class in the middle of the day and went home. its a miracle i even made it to 9th grade before dropping out. i never did any homework unless i was forced to. i would fake being sick as much as possible just to not go to school. i was only in school for 9 years but changed over 10 schools. i was always bullied in every one of those schools with varying severity. i was even bullied by upperclassmen for reasons i still don't understand. when you get bullied by high schoolers as an elementary/middle schooler it does things to you. i always hated my fucking teachers and they hated me. all i ever wanted from them is to leave me alone. i was the quiet kid in the back of the class who would draw and not pay attention and it made my teachers really fucking mad. and it was always perplexing to me. i don't want to be there just as much as you don't want me to be there. you're a fucking grown adult getting mad at a middle schooler who gets bullied to the point of being scared to go into the hall to get into other classrooms. my teachers were evil to me. i became very jaded very early on in my life. i did well enough in a few classes just so i could pass into the next year. my teachers probably just wanted me to gtfo as soon as possible which i'm thankful for. i never got high enough grades in anything to get into university or anywhere really. it still has an effect in my life because i technically haven't gotten a full education yet. i did get into college for a few years (college here is not what it usually means in english. here college is where you go if you didn't complete school or where you go Before university. its basically school with specialization). i dropped out again because once again life got in the way and somehow i was still getting bullied by my now adult peers which was crazy. i can't catch a break. i never made any friends irl for this reason. i had a few brief friendships that were just bullied kids sticking together lol. i think my life is really well illustrated by one anecdote. a teacher really hated my guts for not paying attention. and one time i couldn't get home so i went back to school and that one teacher happened to be there and decided to try to get me home and they saw what my home situation was like. and then they left me the fuck alone and didn't bother me anymore. isn't it crazy how teachers treat you like a blight on their existence without even knowing what you go through as a CHILD? i never had any mentor figures or adults in my life who made me excited about anything in life so i grew up very apathetic and im still dealing with that to this day. there was never anything good in my life growing up and there still isn't anything. i was pretty much depressed as soon as i had a conscious mind. it's also really telling how people treat poor/unfortunate kids who fall into addiction or crime. theres no empathy for us just scorn. we are treated like scum and lesser than by everyone. after all you go through as a child you enter the world realizing how far behind you are after everyone else and you don't really know how to catch up! dropping out is stigmatized, not going to uni is stigmatized, going to college is stigmatized, being bullied is stigmatized, not having a subject you're especially good in is stigmatized, falling into drugs or alcohol or crime is stigmatized to the point you shouldn't dare speak of it. people don't even try to sugarcoat the fact they see people who fell behind as lesser but at least they're honest. oops

[exnihilo-etc]

im packing to move soon and i thought as long as im packing i could show off my bookshelf, one row at a time, starting with the bottom: graphic novels, comics, and puzzle books

most of ex nihilo i still have in its original physical form. im not too sentimental for it, but it is hard to throw it away. if theres literally anything ive drawn that you want, just lmk and ill ship it to you 👀

my old notebook

i fucking LOVE this graphic novel. i found it at a thrift shop, signed by the author, which probably means whoever this belonged to was a kickstarter backer for the project. it tells the story of a young artist and his wife being revisited by an old friend just released from prison. a story about drug use, lost friendships, and how your own memory can lie to you, and by extension, lie to your loved ones. maybe the very last line of the novel inspired the name of my comic?

seconds is an amazing graphic novel by bryan lee o'malley, who might be better known for creating scott pilgrim. this is a contemporary fairy tale of the disastrous consequences you might face if you could literally undo anything that might happen to you during the day, and how katie, a restaurant manager learns to abuse that power to send her own world crashing down around her. find it, i know its for free online somewhere but if you buy it thats even better!!

moon moth started as a short story by jack vance (who in his own right created rules for an internal magic system within his stories now called "vancian magic") about a sci fi murder mystery on a utopian planet called Sirene, a planet so accustomed to luxury that crafting and artistic expression are the sole pastime. everyone always wears a mask on sirene, and the social order is complex to learn and navigate...all communication is done through musical accompaniment as well. how will ambassador edward thissel know who is friend or foe??

i havent read 'everything is teeth' yet

a graphic novelisation of one episode of angel where a tv station is sucking souls out of kids and angel becomes a felt puppet

a great graphic novel going over the history of anti scientific conspiracies, like why ppl think the moon landing was fake, homeopathy, the quack history of chiropractics, anti vax, global warming denial, evolution misunderstandings, and fracking

what the hell?

a collection of wondermark, which i would classify as having the old found artstyle of married to the sea, plus the zany writing of oglaf. its a webcomic, look fer it!

part graphic, part novel. the fog mound explores a world of talking animals where humanity's existence is rumored as a legend. but thelonious chipmunk has proof: an old postcard with a human city on it. when thelonious accidentally gets lost and finds himself in the very city on his postcard, he has to wonder...where did the humans go? are there any left?

i met jeremy at an expo a few years ago and regularly visit him every year now whenever hes at a showcase or expo. putting watercolor illustrations to music, writing little creepy poems, fan art of all kinds of franchises, i just really vibe with his artwork.

like isnt she just gorgeous???

issues 3-6 of kingdom of loathing bc ill always be such a die hard fan of the loathing games, especially the stick figure mmo that started it all

[pwlanier]

Pablo Picasso (1881-1973), Course de taureaux, signed '-P. Ruiz Picasso-' (lower left), gouache and pastel on board.

Note: A lifelong aficionado of the heroism and pathos of the bullfight, Picasso in the present Course de taureaux captured the brief, electrifying moment immediately before the bull charges into the corrida, its every nerve-ending fired with the anticipation of combat. In mid-1900 when he rendered this scene, laying down pastel in vivid hues and with a material density that conjures the physicality of the impending encounter, Picasso was just eighteen years old, ablaze with youthful ambition and preparing for his own dramatic entry into a new arena. The previous year, he had returned home to Barcelona after a brief stint at the prestigious but stiflingly traditional Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando in Madrid; now, ever more forceful and independent, he was just months away from his first trip to Paris, determined to prove his worth in the very center of the art world.

The new century had opened most auspiciously for Picasso. In January 1900, he moved into his first proper studio with the fellow painter Carles Casagemas, who would eventually accompany him to Paris. The next month, he had the inaugural solo exhibition of his career, showing as many as 150 portraits on paper—a veritable gallery of Barcelona’s bohemians—at the cabaret El Quatre Gats, the unofficial headquarters of Catalan Modernisme. As soon as the show closed, he turned his attention to Paris, the apogee of every young Spanish painter’s dream. Over the course of the spring and summer, he wore down his father’s staunch resistance to the proposed trip, finagled much-needed funds from Casagemas’s parents, and hustled to find commercial work to raise additional money—all the while reveling in the seemingly infinite entertainment available to an adventurous young man in Barcelona, including the theaters on the Paralelo, the brothels in the Barri Xino, and the newly opened corrida Las Arenas.

Picasso created during these high-spirited, aspirational months no fewer than ten scenes of the bullring, principally in pastel, which in the brilliance of their color and the confidence of their handling represent a remarkable leap forward for the young artist. “These works seem to reveal a complete renewal in Picasso’s spirit,” Josep Palau i Fabre has written, “either because the Quatre Gats show had somehow liberated him, or because he was looking forward so eagerly to his trip to Paris. These open-air spectacles, the bullring flooded with sunlight, are in violent contrast to the tenebrous paintings he had been doing so recently” (op. cit., 1981, p. 192). “Never before had Picasso done his afición such credit,” John Richardson declared. “These scorched bullfight scenes are a tremendous advance not only in bravura but in color. This is now as shrill and sharp as the trumpets heralding the rush of the bull into the ring. Picasso has finally discovered how to paint light” (J. Richardson, A Life of Picasso, 1881-1906, New York, 1991, vol. 1, p. 151).

The present Course de taureaux is an illustrative case in point, dazzling in shades of gold and green. Three slim, elegant toreros in the left foreground, capes in hand and backs turned to the viewer, stare with fixed concentration at the small, square doorway from which the bull will burst forth; so too does the pair of burly, blue-clad workers flanking them, perhaps the areneros charged with tending the sand. The figures are disposed with apparent informality to either side of center, leaving a clear channel for the beast to barrel forth, directly toward the viewer. The black portal stands out sharply against the yellow sweep of the podium wall, evoking the explosive crossing of the bull from the cramped, dark holding pen or toril into the open, sunlit arena, where the matador in his embroidered traje de luces (suit of lights) awaits. Picasso articulated the seating area too in terms of light and dark, schematically demarcating the boundary between the more expensive, shady sector and the cheap seats in full sun.

“It is the edge between sol y sombra,” Fred Licht has written, “and it provides the dramatic background against which the bullfight attains its true intensity. Sol y sombra is not only indicative of a social division between rich and poor but also represents the shadow of death at the very heart of the bullfight itself. It is a metaphor of uncompromisingly opposed forces pitted against each other without the possibility of any neutral ground between them” (The Thannhauser Collection of the Guggenheim Museum, New York, 2001, p. 63).

In July 1900, Picasso exhibited four bullfight pastels—there is no record of which ones—at El Quatre Gats, where they elicited a stellar review in the local paper Las Noticias. “The effect of the blinding light beating down on the rows of seats is unbelievable: so are the silhouettes of the bullfighters and the clusters of spectators in the stands” (quoted in J. Richardson, op. cit., 1991, p. 154). The ultimate market for this eye-catching new work, however, was not Barcelona but Paris, where Spanish themes were then very much in vogue. The Catalan painter Ricard Canals had recently won favor in France with his picturesque Spanish scenes, and Picasso packed his own corrida pastels with him when he set out for the capital. “He was not going to arrive in the city where he hoped to find fame,” Richardson has noted, “without saleable samples of his work” (ibid., p. 153).

It was an excellent strategy, as it turned out. Picasso arrived in Paris with Casagemas in October, just a few days shy of his nineteenth birthday; Manuel Pallarès, another companion, joined them soon after. The painter Isidre Nonell generously offered the trio use of his studio in Montmartre, as well as tendering an introduction to the small-time dealer Pere Mañach, who was always on the look-out for promising new arrivals from Spain. Mañach was impressed with the bullfight pastels that Picasso showed him at their first meeting and took three on consignment. Within days, he had sold the lot to the gallerist Berthe Weill for a hundred francs; Weill marked them up fifty percent and flipped them to Adolphe Brisson, the editor of Annales Politiques et Littéraires. The present pastel—one of the few corrida scenes, as Daix has noted, that are not known to have passed through a Barcelona collection—may well have been part of this historic transaction, Picasso’s inaugural sale in Paris (op. cit., 1967, p. 120).

More good news quickly followed. On the strength of Weill’s success with the pastels, Mañach offered Picasso a contract of 150 francs per month. Both he and Weill brought collectors to the young artist’s studio, yielding a respectable stream of sales; after Picasso left Paris for the Christmas holiday, Mañach busied himself arranging for shows of his work. By the time the artist returned in the spring—now without Casagemas, who had taken his own life in February over a love affair gone bad—Mañach had persuaded the enterprising dealer Ambroise Vollard to host an exhibition of Picasso’s recent production, which included a trio of new pictures on the theme of the corrida (nos. IV.5-6, plus one now lost). It was an extraordinary break for a talented up-and-comer, which effectively launched Picasso’s international career.

Next to painting and women, the bullfight would remain the greatest passion of Picasso’s life. He attended his last contest during summer 1970, at the age of 88, and he painted his valedictory toreros that fall, endowing them with his own huge, mirada fuerte eyes. “The best matador who ever existed,” the Spanish poet Rafael Alberti wrote about Picasso. “His paintbrush is like a sword dipped in the blood of all the colors”

Courtesy Alain Truong

[jack-is-lost]

Project Update

I've devoted quite a bit of time toward a comic project that I hope to share with everyone soon. By soon I mean... well, maybe not within a few days or a week from now, but hopefully by the end of October/beginning of November! Yeah, that sounds about right. I'm going to definitely push to post at least one page roughly around that time frame. This is also why I've slowed down with responding to ASKs or posting doodles. I've been really enjoying storyboarding the first chapter, which has surpassed 25 pages, so it has taken a lot of my attention this past week or two. 😅 Sorry - This comic will be a long ongoing project too. I honestly don't see it being finished within a year, maybe not even two years — it really depends. Especially when considering how many chapters it'll take to fully showcase it in all its glory. Or the additional bits I might add for visual flavor; doodles, extra content, etc.

Before I ramble on further, I want to mention this comic will be my first attempt to tackle such a big project. Ya' know, something that isn't a simple illustration or a one-page-hit-wonder, basically. I don't expect it to be perfect by any means. Hell, I expect to take the opportunity given to me as a learning tool. Something that'll allow me to figure things out and grow within my style/skills. It will 100% not be perfect, is what I'm saying.

However, this is a perfect way to explain what I meant by "opportunity". The writer of this story is not me! Yup, I'm just the illustrator guiding you on this adventure. I have graciously been given permission to draw a lovely fanfic that I've adored ever since I stumbled over it back in 2020. I am working closely with the author and, in my eyes, see this as a collab of sorts. They get FULL credit to all scenes, dialogue, and plot. They are an amazing writer, and I feel most of you might have already read this fic by them. Especially if you enjoy or admittedly ship David and Michael. No, I'm not ready to say just "who" or which story. I don't want to give away too much just yet!

But, yes, this will be a David x Michael fancomic/webcomic. If you don't particularly like that ship or disapprove of them being paired in such a fashion than please, by all means, don't read it — no one will be forcing you to consume such content. I will say this for now that it will be mature. Explicit, even, in later chapters. Such pages will not be posted directly to tumblr, of course. Not even with the new fancy label system. But I will have a link available on those particular pages. Despite me defining this to be mature, it's mainly an emotional trainwreck. Seriously, be prepared for that.

As briefly mentioned, I do plan to post everything but said explicit scenarios to tumblr on a side blog dedicated specifically for the comic (and any other content related to it.) That side-blog will be kept neat and tidy as to keep it well archived and easy to read. More on that as it gets closer to me finally posting pages. (I'll post it to another website too, most likely, that allows explicit imagery which is where the link will probably take you)

Man, I am so excited for this project! I can't wait to share it with everyone! I know it'll be a long journey but for those interested in tagging along, I hope you all enjoy it 🥰

#random thoughts and rambles #95060 #David x Michael #the lost boys #(honestly just me rambling about a comic project while trying to not give too much away at the same time)

[frizzle-tales]

Was asking for a pen too much? Jiyeon wasn’t quite sure what to make out of Taehyung’s tone. Was he mocking her because he didn’t think she’d deserve something at all, or was he touched by her wanting such a souvenir?

“Yes…?” Jiyeon responded to his question, looking at him wide eyed as she tried to read his mood, before she looked down at her feet, slowly growing embarrassed at her request. But then, to her surprise, Taehyung actually told her to go ahead and pick whichever one she’d like, and with a smile and now without any anxious thoughts, Jiyeon stepped forward.

There was a mix of different styles; a few masculine ones with a neutral colorpalette of grays and blacks, and another one in a few tints of green. Jiyeon’s eyes glanced to the shades that caught her attention, and luckily, there was just one left in the basket.

Jiyeon took the pink pen from the batch; the flower illustration along with the precious colors and swirly handwriting was too pretty to pass on. The girl decides to hold onto the pen, making sure not to lose it.

Sohee was watching them closely as Jiyeon offered to prepare Taehyung’s bath and even dinner. No, no, surely they were not that close, were they? Surely Taehyung wasn’t really that into Jiyeon if he didn’t even bothered to give her a ring … he was definitely not that serious with her.

Perhaps Taehyung only kept her around. Of course he’d get bored of Jiyeon fast enough— and realize that he would want a real woman instead.

And until that day… she would wait.

The couple left the office behind and headed back home, and soon their conversation circled back to one of his employees, Sohee.

Of course she would be a good employee. It was obvious that she’d listened to his every word like a puppy wagging its tail. Jiyeon wasn’t sure how Taehyung’s words made her feel; part of her wanted to tell him that Sohee seemed to dislike her, but she didn’t know where to start with the embarrassing lack of proof to back up her claim, so she didn’t, and instead stared out of the window. “I suppose it makes sense that you’d get along more with women your age…” Jiyeon commented, leaving it at that.

—

Shit.

Of course, the bath. Truthfully… Jiyeon was so caught up in getting a reaction out of Sohee that she didn’t realize that she actually had to do what she offered, learning an important lesson on making promises and keeping them.

“Oh! No, no, I didn’t forgot…I will get the bath ready.” Jiyeon replied - knowing it was best to not tell him the truth - as she hung his coat before tidying her shoes and own coat.

She headed upstairs, hearing Taehyung following right after her, grimacing at how he never seemed to let her breathe it seemed.

Jiyeon prepped the bath, leaving the water running as she went to grab a towel and his robe for Taehyung, placing it on the towel rack before she went to check on the water’s temperature. “It’s almost ready…” Jiyeon mentioned, while her thoughts already strayed to dinner. That was it. The mundane routine would start again.

“Your bath is ready…” No, he did mention that they were on first name basis, right? Would that also go for at home? Jiyeon didn’t dare to ask. “…I will get to cooking then.” She figured that now atleast, Taehyung wouldn’t be looming over her and watching her every move as she prepared dinner for them. She took a few steps towards bathroom door but paused, glancing over at Taehyung.

“I forgot to mention… thank you for today. I had fun, seeing your office, and having lunch… It was nice.” Jiyeon smiled lightly— their ‘trip’ outside of the home was surprisingly nice, it was a great distraction for everything going on.

— 🎙️

Right before following the young woman upstairs, Taehyung paused at the wooden stand near the doorway, another small — yet astonishingly genuine — smile tugging on his lips.

He lifted the pen Jiyeon was graciously allowed, admiring the one she decided to choose. Out of all the options, this one was the one she wanted the most. It was kinda.. cute.

She wanted something of his. Something that would remind her of him every time she simply looked at it.

But he soon brushed the thoughts off, beginning to trail behind the girl before too much distance became between them.

As Jiyeon prepped the bath, Taehyung watched while leaning against the doorframe, his eyes gliding over every inch of her body. “Is it now?” He responded to her update, his head cocking to the side. Though, he still pushed himself up, heading into the bathroom whilst undressing his shirt.

She was behaving so well. Taking so much time and care into the small details that made up his bath.

As if she was really his fiancé.

Although, he couldn’t help but to wonder: was this all just an act? A ploy to lower his guard? While he was up here, soaking in her seemingly innocent suggestion, she would be searching for an escape downstairs. An unlocked window. A working landline. Something to leave him.

Ha, did she really think he was that stupid? That he would ever willingly allow that to happen?

Jiyeon’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. His eyes followed her slow footsteps towards the door, through the mirror’s reflection. For a change, he didn’t say anything. Not a single word as he walked in her direction, stepping past her for only a moment to close and lock the bathroom door.

“Aren’t you being so sweet today..” Taehyung stopped in front of her, reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear. “You’re very welcome, sweetheart. Don’t you see now? Only good girls get rewards.” Both his hands then moved to rest on her waist before slowly dragging down to her hips. “Dinner can wait until later.” He suddenly switched the topic, leaning in closer towards her. “I want you to join me.”

It was the easiest way to keep his eye on her. Make certain she was behaving herself. And why couldn’t he enjoy himself a little while he did so?

His fingers found the hem of her shirt, using it as leverage to pull it off over her head. “There, now you can do the rest.” Taehyung stepped back, nudging the girl further into the bathroom incase she decided to get any sudden bright ideas. “Unless, of course, you’d love me to help you.”

The killer finished getting himself and undressed, and when the young woman did too, he got into the bath, pulling her in with him. He settled with his back against the tub, his behaving hostage between his legs, her back resting against his chest, one arm around her waist. Steam fogged the bathroom mirrors, covered the room in a warm, humid haze.

As the couple relaxed in the warm water, Taehyung’s fingers trailed across her body. Tracing the soft curve of the young woman’s waist down to her thigh. All while his thoughts began to wander; going to places it very well shouldn’t be. No, couldn’t be.

Fuck.

It felt as if his self control was slipping through the cracks the longer time ticked on. The touch of her skin was so addicting, he was on the edge of almost doing anything to feel more. She fit so well between his legs too, back perfectly flush against his chest. The closer she was, the easier he could be consumed by her sweet, vanilla-like scent.

Abruptly, the man cleared his throat, nudging Jiyeon away from him. “Enough, get out.” His voice came out harsher than he truthfully meant to, ice cold as he snapped at her. Frustration was simmering in his veins, threatening to turn into a rolling boil. “Get yourself dressed and go start on dinner. You’ve had a long enough break.”

Realistically, he knew there was no reason to treat her so harshly, but he couldn’t shake off the sheer agitation he felt. Jiyeon was his toy, a mere victim he decided to spare for his own curiosity. A plain jane college student, there were hundreds just like her.

And yet, she was the one. The only one ever in his life who drove him so insane.

#🎙anon #serial killer!taehyung #yandere taehyung