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brooooswriting · 10 months

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Would/could you maybe write a sam carpenter x fem!reader comfort fic/imagine with her comforting reader after a breakdown which leads to r crying but in Sam's arms? Just something I'm craving rn, thanks 💜

I need you

Sam Carpenter x reader

Some days life seems like a piece of cake, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. But that doesn’t happen to broke college students who still have to hustle to get their degree. You had too many things to do and nearly not enough time, money was short and your parents were on you like hawks. They cut the money because they thought that you’d need to learn how to live yourself and while that wasn’t really a problem to you, they thought it was.

You were staying with Tara for the time being as your parents kicked you out of your apartment for a certain timespan and you didn’t have the time nor the money to get a new one. T was nice enough to let you stay and Sam and Quinn were fine with it too.

You and sam liked to keep your relationship on the low, it wasn’t quite a relationship but it also wasn’t just a fuck. It was something and you didn’t wanna label it because you were scared that it’d ruin it. So, you never talked to anyone about it, not even Anika even though she was your best friend.

It was late at night, around 2 a.m. when you sat in the kitchen, trying to write an essay for your English class when sam came home. You’d been working from 3 p.m to 1 a.m as your coworker got I’ll and as soon as you got home you sat down and started to work. You were dehydrated and haven’t really eaten since 2 p.m. You were moody, sad and you weren’t getting anywhere with this stupid essay. After just starring at the screen for around 20 minutes your eyes started to fill with tears and your breathing got heavy. There was no focusing anymore, you were blowing your nose again and again while you tried to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of your long sleeve shirt.

Sam walked in on you sitting at the kitchen table. Your back was turned to her, so she couldn’t see your face. “Hey, you’re still awake” she whispered as she walked up behind you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You mumbled a yeah as you tried to keep your voice as steady as possible. But it was no use, Sam was great at observing and your shaky voice was easy to notice. “What’s wrong honey?” Her voice was unbelievably soft which made you break.

You started to cry out loudly, hiccups following and your shoulders shaking. The older woman’s heart broke for you, she noticed that you had been down lately but she didn’t know that it was that bad. Her hand reached down to grab yours and pull you over to the couch where you carefully sat on her lap, one leg on each side of her hip. Your face was squished into her neck, your sobs silenced while her arms squeezed your waist and pulled you closer. Sweet kisses were placed on your neck and head along with reassuring words, in hopes that they’d calm you down.

“I’m sorry” you hiccuped out, slightly laughing about how much of a mess you were. You hoped that it’d make the situation less awkward and uncomfortable but it didn’t really. “Don’t apologize baby, wanna tell me what’s wrong?” She asked as her hand rubbed up and down your back. The moment was too sweet to be just between friends.

“I’m just, I-I, it’s too much. I’m failing basically every goddamn thing, I’m not making enough money and my parents are watching me like hawks just waiting for me to fail and if it keeps going like this then they won’t have to wait even longer” you cried out, your head falling back into the crook of sams neck. Your tears were staining her neck but she couldn’t care less.

“Don’t say stuff like that! You’re doing great baby” she said and started to stand up. Your legs wrapped tighter around her waist while her hands supported you. “You’re working all alone, you’re doing your best in college. I am so proud of you” she kept mumbling as she sat you down on her bed. She let go of you for a second to get you one of her hoodies and her boxers, it wasn’t the first time you were in her bed but it was the first time it felt this intimate.

“Thank you but we both know that my parents don��t think the same. They are going to hate me if I fail” you kept crying, burying yourself in her hoodie and turning your back to her with your legs pulled up to your chest.

Sam didn’t say anything, you heard how she changed her cloths and then heard her move to the other side of the bed. She’s never really been someone for cuddling, it just wasn’t hers or at least it wasn’t with you. But this night she laid down behind you, tightly pressed into your back with her arms wrapped around your waist. Her face was pressed into the crook of your neck where she placed soft kisses up and down. It was unbelievably comforting.

“Sleep a bit for me Love, well take about everything else tomorrow alright?” She mumbled into your neck and pulled you closer, watching how your eyes close before her own closed too.

The next morning you woke up still in sams arms. She was already awake when your eyes opened, her hand stroked up and down your side. “Good morning, are you alright?” She asked, her voice immediately comforting you. You gave her a small nod and turned in her arms, cuddling into her chest. You weren’t sure what was happening at the moment but decided to take advantage of any comfort you could get.

“You know, I meant what I said yesterday” she started, her fingers combing thru your hair, “I am proud of you and I think you’re doing awesome. Just let your parents talk, but if they’re rude to you, come to me alright? I’ll protect you. After all you’re kinda my girlfriend right?” She sounded unsure and insecure at the end which made you coo.

“I’d love nothing more that being your girlfriend” you answered, leaning your head up to press a quick kiss to her lips. By all means it wasn’t your first kiss, but the way you kissed was new. It was filled with love and care, it made you feel like everything was going to be alright again. And as long as Sam was by your side, everything was going to be fine.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x fem!reader #melissa barrera x y/n #melissa barrera x reader

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yoiiwonn · 2 months

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𝜗𝜚 park sunghoon.

𝜗𝜚 OVERVIEW enemy!sunghoon x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 GENRE angst, fluff, drabble (a bit of swearing)

𝜗𝜚 MASTERLIST 𝜗𝜚 TAGLIST (open!!) 𝜗𝜚 REQUESTS OPEN

Enemy!sunghoon who always somehow finds a way to get under your skin. It irks you how everytime he says something to you, it makes you go crazy. Only to go home and stay up all night thinking about how he knew all of your secrets.

Enemy!sunghoon who repeatedly stares at you with a cold look on his face. Everytime you confront him he just laughs, and teases you about looking at him, when in reality he’s the one who cast his eyes on you.

Enemy!sunghoon who would do anything to just tease you all day about how much better he is at ice skating than you. Only to cause a fight in where you always end up storming off and not being able to think about anything else because of it.

Enemy!sunghoon who never wants you to talk to any guy other than him. Even though all of the bitter interactions you share together are negative, he doesn’t care. And whenever you do talk to other guys he makes it a point to drive them away from you, doing anything he can to paint you as a bad guy so that he can have you all to himself.

Enemy!sunghoon, who always takes it upon himself to whisper in your ear during practice, usually degrading you, calling you names, or taunting you a bit. It made your blood boil at first, but after some time it became quite attractive, causing your face to appear red everytime he did this “trick” of his, as he called it.

Enemy!sunghoon who blew up, seemingly more than usual when another figure skater suddenly joined your class. Your attention leaving his, and focusing on the “new guy.”

It riled him up, so within the timespan of a month he had the innocent guy kicked out. You had no idea why he got kicked out, but just ignored it. You did find it a bit strange that he hadn’t contacted you after, instead changed his number..? Things had always ended up like this this though, after all. park sunghoon had won too many battles he shouldn’t have been fighting in, he was your enemy… not your boyfriend….

Once he had started going soft around you, it fell odd. As if he had lined up all of this trouble just to taunt you even more. No.. not taunt.. to flirt?

You had finally given up on boys, it’s like you had powered through all of your past situationships with ease.. but you thought you were a decent person, so why?

Park sunghoon is the reason why.

Right towards the end of practice for the finales, you had noticed sunghoon rummaging through your bag. But why? He didn’t notice your sly footsteps approaching behind, and continued to scroll through your phone.

“Sunghoon what the hell.. are you doing..” a voice spoke in a hushed tone behind him, his heart pounding, dropping your phone on the ground and suddenly trying to run off. “GET BACK HERE PARK SUNGHOON!” He couldn’t outrun you forever, so he turned and just decided to face his inevitable fate.

“you fucking creep.. why did you go through my phone.” you speak, hands fidgeting in anxiety, still trying to process the emotions regulating through your head. “I’m not a creep.. well.. um. I just like you okay? A lot.” you shook your head in disbelief.. but you two hated eachother? I mean, you had thought about him in a different light recently, but never actually considered he’d like you.

You and park sunghoon had been skating rivals for almost 7 years straight, right up until this moment.

“yes or yes, idiot.” (park sunghoon)

“wha- what??” (yn)

“i’ll take that as a yes.” (park sunghoon)

before you could react he pulled you in a bit closer, your heart practically about to explode. What were these new feelings? Why were you feeling them for him? For your enemy.

In that moment right there, marked the beginning of a new relationship. A fresh start. Putting the past behind, The both of you started anew.

a bit of a long drabble/short story, but i just couldn’t get hoon out of my head for some reason 😓 ALSO requests are open if you want to request something for me to write <3

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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mhevarujta · 3 months

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Saltburn and The Talented Mr Ripley

I keep reading that Saltburn is a dollarstore version of The Talented Mr Ripley and I disagree... strongly.

1)This movie is a mix of genres and in open dialogue with many movies and books. People act as if this makes it unoriginal, but creators doing this consciously (and Fennell is very open about her influences) is not something new and WAS in fact used in movies and literature to make works exist not just individually, but also within genres and traditions, in comparison to one another. I don't think it's a matter of being uninspired and it's lovely that a movie that is meant to be pure, delicious fun has this much work put behind it.

2)Fennell herself has said that she loves Highsmith even though, when writing Saltburn, Ripley was not in her mind consciously like gothics and british country house stories.

I DO think that, subconsciously or not, she WAS affected by Ripley, but I still find that the similarities are contextualized within the genres and themes that interest HER. Some comparisons:

-Oliver is not in it for money in the beginning. He's not a poor, ill-treated-by-family opportunist who's working in whatever manner he can to get by or who HAS to be deeply closeted because his society and several specific characters have shamed him for his sexuality.

-The scene of Oliver cleaning Farleigh's room is compared to Tom cleaning up after Dickie and the latter snapping. A main difference I see is that in the Ripley-movie (this scene was not in the book), this is a very minor moment and Dickie is living up to his name short of two letters because he's irritable, grieving and guilty. In Saltburn, this scene is very different in context. Oliver is not cleaning casually. Felix complains about the heat and he's still like a piglet in his own filth, too rich to raise his finger. I DO remember my time at campus during the summer and the temperature in there, and the idea of two-days-old remnants of food being thrown in a room and having started to smell? Oh, boy. While what Oliver said can be seen as insulting, it can also be seen as honest and Felix's reaction as kinda immature and wanting to both be what he is and never be judged in the slightest, even if it's not in an ill-intended manner. This shows us part of who Felix is, why people put on performances for him, and how Oliver observes, acting on a trial and error basis, and shifts his performance as he goes along to fit to what is wanted of him. This is a scene that does a lot of groundwork in a small timespan.

-Unlike both book and movie-Dickie, this never becomes a story about Felix leading Oliver on. Whether Felix is aware of Oliver's feelings for him is never at the forefront. In fact, it's quite likely that they haven't registered, just like many things don't for him, and that's part of the story the movie is telling and of the criticism it's making.

-I'd also like to compare the three murders. I'm saying three because book!Ripley and movie!Ripley have different murder-scenes. In the movie, Dickie's annoyance and resentment escalate in the boat. Tom is finally honest in a way he never has been for, accusing Dickie of putting on a show himself, of leading him on, of being the one dishonest about his feelings etc. After all, by that point Tom has used honesty as manipulation in the beginning and has been genuinely honest later. The murder happens in the heat of the moment. In the book the murder is 200% premeditated. Tom had settled upon murdering Dickie and taking his identity before they are even on that boat. In fact, being on that boat is part of Tom's plan, and some final moments of having Dicke back in a good mood and experiencing his 'light' again, to not stay his hand.

In Oliver's case there is a very different quality to the murder. Felix has not reached some point of being bored. He has learned of Oliver's excessive lies and can't look at him as the same person no matter what Oliver says. Oliver deep down gets the gravity of that, yet he feels indignant because he knows that all people around Felix play little parts and doesn't see himself as being any different. In this case, the murder is premeditated, but undesired. Oliver wings the murder after his and Farleigh's discussion, being afraid that all of this will become a dream he is reminiscent over while he lives a miserable life, having become like his parents. The manner of it is inspired by the scene he witnesses when he tries to approach Felix in the bathroom during the party and when he sees Farleigh too doing lines. But even then, the confrontation in the Labyrinth is very real and heated. Even with the premeditation, Oliver is deeply desirous of having Felix's light sign upon him again and ready to put and end to his plan if that happened. It's never about taking everything away from Felix. It's about: 'If I can't have you, if you won't have me, you can't exist.' It's about Oliver's last hope being crushed. The rest is only the result of growing resentment and hatred, combined with an inability to let go and a need to feel victorious; a conqueror.

My point is that I don't reject the comparisons, but I think that there is thought, effort and depth behind the writing of this movie and it's not some downgrade.

#saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton #the talented mr. ripley #emerald fennell

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mama-qwerty · 2 months

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You made a comment in the server about how with a living family to temper and draw the line for him, Eclipse might not go as bad as he could have gone if completely alone

Just for fun, want to explore a bad ending where Eclipse gets away from Black Doom but is alone and isn't loved and cared for, but he's going absolutely crazy from freedom anyway?

Hmmmmm . . .

Okay, so let's say in one scenario, the Black Arms are still around. Eclipse failed BD one time too many, and he just left the boy on a dead asteroid or something as punishment. At first Eclipse is all "OMG WHAT AM I GONNA DO I HAVE TO GET BACK INTO DAD'S GOOD GRACES" and it's hard going.

But then something happens. Eclipse survives. His instincts kick in, and he not only survives, he thrives. The asteroid isn't as barren as originally thought, and maybe he somehow finds a way to get to another planet, one that has a civilization on it.

Maybe this civilization isn't advanced. They have rudimentary weapons and such, maybe a bit of technology, but not much. So Eclipse does the thing he knows to do - he takes the lead. He becomes their leader, and lifts them to higher stages of advancement. Without BD looming over him, Eclipse is free to trust himself, to let his own instincts take over, and he's doing what he was created to do. Lead an army.

So he militarizes this civilization, and they are eager to follow him because maybe he's helped them defeat their enemies already, and they're loyal to him and try so so hard to be the best army they can be for him. And because he was on the receiving end of harsh punishments and constant criticism, he's actually encouraging to them, and finds they react so much better to that than threats and violence.

And maybe it's not just this army. Maybe he reaches out to the defeated enemies, offering strength and protection if they join him. And he's actually good at being a leader. His people love him.

But he's still harboring a pain from being abandoned in the first place. He's not simply doing this of his good will, he's amassing an army that will help him take down Black Doom, and defeat the Black Arms.

He's teaching them the tactics of his former hive. Their weak spots. How to defeat the warriors with very little loss of life on their side. And they learn quickly, and become quite formidable.

And then the Black Comet shows up.

Black Doom is surprised to find his failure of a patchwork experiment leading this pathetic batch of inferior creatures against him, but it is amusing in a way. The last in a long line of failures for this waste of organic life.

He sends the warriors down to defeat this pitiful resistance. And at first the Black Arms have the upper hand. Some of Eclipse's army fall. And Black Doom looks on in superior smugness.

But then something happens.

In moments the tide turns. Eclipse's army is taking out Black Doom's warriors as though they had been doing so all their lives. Eclipse is right on the front lines, leading his men, slashing and gutting those who were his brothers not long before. He fights with a ferocity Black Doom had never seen.

His strikes are precise. Clean. Effective.

Black Doom is no longer amused.

He sends more of his warriors out, the larger, fiercer ones, who all but guarantee a victory. Utter decimation of all living creatures who dare oppose him.

But it was as if Eclipse's army were waiting for them.

They are taken down in short order, with strategic tactics that rivaled Black Doom's himself. Eclipse's army moved like a well-oiled machine. The Black Arms warriors never stood a chance.

Black Doom tired of this.

He was about to order an aerial attack, when Eclipse teleported before him. The boy had grown larger in the short timespan that had passed since he was banished. His claws almost as sharp as his gaze.

He said not a word, and just as Black Doom addressed him, Eclipse shot forward, putting his arm through the leader of the Black Arms' chest.

Black Doom stood stunned. His mind blank. All the remaining warriors paused, as the death rattle of their leader echoed through their minds.

They were easy to pick off at that point.

Eclipse withdrew his arm as the body of his former father slumped to the floor. Black ichor dripped from his claws, and he moved to look out over his army as they finished off the last of the Black Arms warriors.

He was stronger than his father ever expected. And he was indeed leader of the strongest, fiercest, most dangerous army known to the galaxy.

A smile curled his muzzle as his army celebrated their victory below.

Now . . .

Oh now he was unstoppable.

. . . .

Okay, I think I veered WAY into left field with this and probably didn't even answer your question. 😆 Sorry Ames!

#ask me #ames stuff #eclipse the darkling

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tmntkiseki · 2 months

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TMNT Art Diary 2: The Importance of Art Goals and Focusing Your Attention

Happy March, everyone! How are we doing? It's been almost a month and a half since my last turtle art diary, so I figured it was about time to type up yet another set of ramblings talking about my experiences learning how to draw the 2003 TMNT.

Before we get started, I feel it's worth mentioning that the future of this blog is kinda up in the air at this point? From the beginning, I've been against AI generated images because of the ethics involved and like many in the Tumblr art community, recent going-ons with the site have me concerned for where things might be headed. I'm not planning to jump ship just yet, but there is a pretty good chance that I'll be posting less and less original drawings here and start utilizing my newly created Pillowfort instead, as the staff has taken a very firm anti-AI stance to the point of completely banning both AI generated images and writing on the site (the official Tumblr post regarding their decision). If you're a fellow artist, TMNT or otherwise, they might be worth checking out as a potential alternative to Tumblr.

With that out of the way, let's begin!

Okay, so let's talk about something that applies to most anything when you're learning how to do art; the importance of art goals and taking things one step at a time. Whether you're a beginner artist or someone who already has years of experience under your belt, it's important to not only have goals in mind of what you want to learn, but also to try and not do everything all at once. There is a lot that goes into successfully drawing the turtles; their anatomy, applying their less human features like their shells and three-fingered hands, their expressions, their colors, etc. HOWEVER, if you're trying to learn to draw too many aspects of their designs all at once, you are going to become overwhelmed very fast and you will not see improvement as quickly, which inevitably results in frustration and loss of motivation. Ergo, you need to take things bit by bit, breaking down the turtles designs into bite-sized pieces and focusing on specific areas that you are having trouble on.

For instance, early on, I realized pretty quickly that one of the areas I was struggling in was the turtles heads; I love their shape, but damn are they hard to draw. Subsequently, there was a point where I was largely drawing turtle heads and ONLY turtle heads so I could learn what shapes went into them, what they looked like from different angles, etc. Within even a few days, I already saw massive improvements just because I wasn't trying to draw EVERYTHING all at once; just one very specific aspect of their designs. Compare the very first Donny I drew on the 5th of January to a quick doodle of Mikey I did a couple of weeks later on the 25th and you can see how much I learned in such a short timespan.

Speaking of shapes, you wanna know the biggest hack I've discovered for learning how to draw the 2003 turtles? Studying the Fast Forward art style. Yeah, you heard me.

At first glance, this seems kind of stupid. I'm pretty sure most people aiming to draw fanart of the 2003 turtles are planning to draw them in a similar style to the first five seasons, so it makes more sense to study screencaps and model sheets from those seasons rather than FF. However, the reason why Fast Forward is so useful for TMNT 2003 fanartists is because, at its core, Fast Forward is 2003's art style simplified. Anyone who has ever taken a professional art class or looked up tutorials online knows that basic shapes are incredibly important when drawing, as they are the building blocks of literally whatever illustration you're trying to make. Now, I absolutely love how detailed the designs from the first five seasons are, but because they are so detailed, a lot of the basic shapes do get lost under everything as a result, which can make it hard to figure out what actually goes into the turtles designs at a fundamental level.

Because the designs in Fast Forward are less detailed compared to what was seen in the first five seasons, many of the basic shapes that go into the turtles designs are much easier to spot. If you've been following me long enough, you know that I was absolutely LIVID to discover that one of the things I genuinely don't like about the Fast Forward style--the pentagon shaped heads--makes drawing the 03 turtle heads so much easier. To explain it in detail; a pentagon basically maps out the five "points" of a turtle's head. What these points represent can change depending on the angle from which you're drawing your chosen turtle, but if you're doing a turtle head from a front/three quarter view, the five points denotes the top of the head, the cheeks, and the chin. It requires some practice to get right, but by building off this initial pentagon shape, you can easily draw a turtle head in the style of the first five seasons. A hexagon works just as well and is especially useful if you're going for a rounder/softer head shape.

Beyond that, I think making to deliberate choice to draw in the Fast Forward style rather than the OG style is helpful for other reasons. When a turtle's head is only a pentagon, you don't have to worry as much about details and can focus on other areas you might be neglecting, such as figuring out the positioning of the eyes/mask, or developing the way you draw the turtles' expressions. (Seriously, the white pupil-less eyes are cool, but they do make conveying emotions a hassle, especially when the turtles are lacking for proper eyebrows.)

It's been about two months since I drew my very first 2003 turtle and while I'm still very far off from where I want to be, I've already made some leaps and bounds in terms of overall progress. I do sometimes feel annoying yelling about my turtle art learnings and struggles (especially when I know there is stuff that potentially comes off as Captain Obvious territory to others) but I personally find it helpful to write down everything I've learned and experienced in case I forget something and need to look back on it. And hey, maybe someone will see these disjointed ramblings as helpful. You never know.

Anyway, here's a lil Donny doodle from today to finish this entry off. See ya later!

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt art diary

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found-wings · 6 months

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I can’t offer any fluffy fanfiction because writing consistently is incredibly difficult however

Even given the nature of Purgatory, the stakes of it all, would Etoiles and Fit ever really abandon Phil? When the first wave of bloodlust ebbs and the numbers glowing redhot on heavy and unkind metal cuffs dwindle down further- three hours, one hour, forty minutes, thirty- perhaps they would seek each other out in the twilight of their day, when nothing more can be gained and the best they can do is stave off further loss.

Perhaps they skirt Phil’s anxieties, his wariness that, again, Etoiles will kill him. That he and Fit will put Phil back in the split-second abyss of death, that he’ll need to run on a body pushed off-balance without a counterweight- but nothing happens, no sound of metal on sheathe nor metal on flesh and viscera painting it. Instead, with gentleness and soft assurances that he needn’t fear, he is brought into the fold of his flock and a secure embrace. A hand hovers over the haggard crow’s wings, just barely brushing against the dull and marred feathers in question; nothing will happen without permission and, once he gives it, a delicate hand brushes at the onyx plumage and preens, gently… gently.

They share stories about the smaller things, the pieces of purgatory less hellish- less sore and bitter and likely to revive the wellspring of anxious animosity. Phil shares that their flock has gotten all the larger, unsurprisingly, though they had all supposed- maybe took bets- that Cellbit would be there with them eventually.

And it’s okay. It’s soft, safe, even as their time tick-ticks down and twenty-five minutes drains away to fifteen, as the promise of the ice-cold drug that will leave them prone and dead to the world strays ever nearer. Even as Etoiles and Fit leave, fade into the horizon, Phil feels okay.

(It won’t last.)

~ 🐝

Answering this because I have been having so many thoughts surrounding this. I am still by no means caught up to the actual vods so idk how accurate this really will be AJAJA

I love your idea.

The hesitation from Phils side, the obvious growing suspicion he has for Fit and especially Etoiles after everything that has happened within such a short timespan - even when the last time they spoke not too long ago before all of this they were as closer as ever, silent promises of safety and trust.

I want there to be the constant feeling of 'what if?' and yet, as time passes by and they settle down together for a while to talk, nothing happens. Phil is not too sure whether to be relieved by it or not, but he embraces that change either way.

I want Phil to give quiet apologies for the fact that their flock got bigger at the worst time when they couldn’t even be all together, but Fit & Etoiles reassure him it‘s entirely fine and they‘re glad Phil has more of flock to help when they obviously can‘t.

BUT ALSO I‘M SO OBSESSED WITH RED TEAM BEING SO PROTECTIVE OF EACH OTHER????

I want especially Cellbit to absolutely refuse to let Phil go anywhere alone. Especially if it‘s Fit and Etoiles. To tell them off and put himself between these two & Phil as he guides Phil back towards the rest of their team to settle down - he is not letting them anywhere near him or the rest of their team like this.

I want silly red team to go absolutely feral over the thought of losing each other and being so protective & attached to each other RAAAAH

#'would Etoiles & Fit ever really abandon Phil?' no. never.#the question isn‘t if they would ever abandon him - however the others of Phils team are quite certain they would.#SILLIES????:((((#🐝 anon please stop making me CRY AJAJAJAJA #🐝 anon #winged.rambles

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aliceindaisychains999 · 1 year

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Callout Post: Be Wary of the Following User

I've tried everything before. I've remained quiet, I've tried going my separate ways as peacefully as possible, I've made mistakes in impulsive arguements, and I even tried quietly moving accounts. But I'm tired of remaining quiet. There's someone who's been stalking me since the friendship break-up back in August of 2022. Originally fluffy935, now known as edwards-kronorium115, has been harrassing me in subtle ways non-stop.

We had been great friends at first in 2021, only for things to fall apart when we were making too many mistakes to upset each other within a short timespan. I made a few mistakes in accidentally reposting their screenshots due to them not having a watermark and not being able to tell which was “gifted to me” or which was completely theirs as there was no indication to tell the difference. They hadn’t added watermarks until just recently when I had checked on them.

At first, we had disagreements due to sharing the same f/o. I already do with a very close friend of mine. Unlike that close friend, Eddie would go back and forth from being supportive to lashing out at me. My old first blog here (staminuptosuccess) is deleted but there I was spammed in DMs over a friend supporting me with Edward at the time. I was called a homewrecker, spammed vomit emojis, and further insulted. It was getting so bad that I went to Twitter and left everything behind around 2022. We made up and became friends again. Only for it to get worse. It got so bad she looked me up on FACEBOOK AND SOMEHOW FOUND MY PRIVATE NAME. I cannot show the contact to avoid doxxing. But her full name is there. I was isolated. She constantly told me how “I am your only true friend.” I was manipulated often into being away from my friends. She constantly tried putting everyone down, me included. I would be built up only to be put down again. I couldn’t handle her taking out her emotions on me. No matter how hard I tried, I always did something to make her angry or sad. So, I left Twitter in the midst of her rage. I uncensored the names of friends who consent to me posting the thread.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to upset her anymore and frankly? I didn’t want to be abused anymore either. Every time I was starting to thrive, she’d explode. She would pepper me in drawing gifts only to slam me down that I didn’t care enough or that I ruined everything for her. So I ended it. The Facebook thing freaked me out especially bc how did she find my name?

We had a short talk of what seemed like closure and wishing each other the best in life… until it wasn’t.

She took my quiz and made her presence known twice. I’d have my post liked until I was blocked. It happened to my friend too. After a while, I was able to find a way to block her back so she’d stop the discreet spying. She would reblog the same things I did. And ever so slowly plagiarize my work.

My Kalimba video: December 31st, 2022

(To be continued. Check below)

Part 2

Part 3

#serious #part 1 #cod zombies #call of duty zombies #codz

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one-winged-dreams · 5 months

Text

Umber

ship: (pl: Adriel & Zack) (Adriel x Angeal [mentioned]) source: final fantasy vii word count: 1107

I'm still working on the werewolf au fic but I thought I'd go ahead and finish this one too because hhhhholy shit I forgot how much I was venting into this one, haha.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess

"Hey, Zack? I've got a… Nevermind."

Adriel probably should have known better, not finishing a sentence in front of Zack like that. He didn't know him extremely well - they had only kept each other's company like this a few times. To fill the gap 'until Angeal comes back,' is what they told themselves.

But even so, earnest as he was, it wasn't hard to tell that Zack wasn't the type to let things go unsaid. Maybe that's why Adriel had come to like him so much within this short timespan.

As expected, as he glanced over to the other side of the bench, Zack was peering at him expectantly, the only thing stopping him from prompting further being the fact that he had been in the act of taking a drink.

Adriel's gaze turned back to his lap, and his perferal vision was blocked off by the curtains of his hair.

"It's kind of stupid, is what I mean."

"Hey now, there's no such thing as a stupid question. Trust me, I've tried to come up with one. Got pretty close a couple times, you know," the tone of voice he used was more than enough to convey the grin Adriel couldn't see, and it was half-impossible to not smile as well, even just a little bit.

So Adriel took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. "Okay, then. What color were your eyes before the mako infusion?"

"Well that sure is an INTERESTING question," Zack replied, cocking his head to the side in a manner that brought to mind the way Angeal had often likened him to a puppy. Adriel briefly wondered how many people he had been described as such to. "They've always been blue, just not THIS blue. But don't think that means I'm gonna break out the baby pictures to show you."

The quip made Adriel's hand come up, stifling a chuckle into his fingers.

"I won't pressure you, I promise."

"You sure? I WAS pretty adorable," Zack teased alongside a playful elbow nudge.

Adriel relented and finally offered him a smile in response, to which Zack unflinchingly reflected back twofold. Thinking he had contributed all he had to the conversation, Adriel turned his attention to his own drink.

"What, you think I'm not gonna ask you to reciprocate? As if. What about you?"

Styrofoam coffee cup a hair's breadth away from his lips, Adriel was silent. A few beats passed, and Zack wasn't sure he would get a response until the cup was lowered back to rest between his hands at lap level.

"Well… Mine were brown, actually."

The reply was soft, practically a murmur.

"I've got pictures… Probably not as cute as your baby ones, but," Adriel offered Zack a smile that seemed to be curbing a tide of pain.

And palpable as it was, Zack couldn't NOT pick it up. It took almost no effort on his part, seemingly attuned to that sort of thing. And he had come to see Adriel as a friend, how could he not try to push that tide back for him?

"Oh, really. I'm sure you can already tell how curious I am. Feel like sharing with the class?" he offered another one of those heartwarming grins.

It was seemingly effective enough if the way Adriel's smile warming by a margin had anything to say about it. He retrieved his phone, tapping until he seemed satisfied to hold it out to Zack. Adriel nodded, consenting for Zack to take it, and so he did.

The face staring back at him was smiling, but Zack could clearly see the same type of pain hidden beneath that delicate mask. This was obviously before Adriel had joined the SOLDIER program, and he had heard about how difficult things had been for him, heard things that pained him as much as it made him angry.

But most strikingly were his eyes. Umber. A hint of rust blending into the dark, earthy color.

"Wow…" was all Zack had to say, taken aback by the striking difference. It seemed to change the entire makeup of his face. Warmer. Softer. Vulnerable.

Hurt.

But more than anything…

"Angeal said…" Adriel interrupted Zack's thoughts, causing the latter to turn to look at him. He wasn't looking at Zack now, those mako eyes were trained at the ground, welling up with silvery tears.

"Angeal said that those weren't SOLDIER eyes. He said… He said they never should have been," Adriel's head bowed, and a single tear escaped down the curve of his cheekbone. "That they were too beautiful. And that if he could, he would change them back in an instant."

Uncharacteristically taken aback, Zack watched Adriel's shoulders begin to tremble.

"Like it never…" Adriel's voice cracked, teeth gritting to keep from sobbing. "Like it never happened. That he never would have let it happen."

The motion proved futile, and the expectant sob escaped. The coffee cup was suddenly forgotten, falling to the ground in a cascade of liquid thats color was reminiscent of the eyes that continued to stare up at Zack from behind the phone screen.

"A-Any of it-t-t."

The open weeping was inevitable, but the way Zack was suddenly wrapped around Adriel was hardly unexpected either. It had happened in an instant, those words resonating within Zack so strongly that he hadn't even had a second to think twice about it.

"Maybe Angeal can't change it. He can't take it back. And… And neither can I, but Adriel," Zack began, his eyebrows furrowing with the force of his conviction, "You're my friend. And so much more to Angeal. And when he comes back… WHEN he comes back. You'll know what all of this is for. Everything you've done has been and will be all for you. And me and Angeal… We'll be here to remind you."

The weeping ceased, preluding the trembling accompanied by shaky breaths. Adriel had been successfully grounded, seemingly attempting to pull himself together. And when he finally leaned into Zack's embrace was it clear Zack's words had gotten through to him.

The shaky breathing was the only sound for a while before Adriel swallowed hard, his lips moving silently before he was able to speak again.

"Thank you…"

Zack smiled, squeezing Adriel just a bit tighter.

"Of course. You just needed a Zack hug was all," he chuckled. "Oh! Here's your phone back. Wouldn't want to miss Angeal finally calling you back or anything," he only freed Adriel by one arm to transfer his phone from his own lap to Adriel's hands.

Taking a still shaky but deep, calming breath, Adriel nodded.

"Yes. Definitely."

#self ship #self shipping #virus fics #pl: zack #what do angels dream of

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mercurialmalcontent · 1 year

Text

I have some thoughts about this post about not putting hard numbers (times, measurements) in your writing unless absolutely necessary, after seeing a bunch of people be weird pedants in the notes and assuming that only refers to real-world dates and measures.

My prime example of how using specific numbers weakened the narrative is Final Fantasy XIV. When you begin the game, you learn that it’s been five years since a calamity that reshaped the face of the world, and fifteen years since a particular huge battle, twenty years since a different disaster. That’s fine, it gives the player an anchor point in the history of that world.

By the time you reach the end of the current expansion, mandatory content has guided your character through world-wide travel and multiple wars. Characters will allude to a fair chunk of time having passed since you last spoke to them, or talk about how travel between some places took days, weeks, months... and then someone in a main story quest will say it’s been five years since the Calamity, fifteen years since the Battle at Silvertear, twenty years since the Bozja incident, just like it was two entire wars ago.

At this point in the game’s life cycle it’s become frankly stupid, a having their cake and eating it too trying to justify why some characters don’t seem to age while also trying to insinuate time has passed... and it’s completely unneccessary. All it would have taken to avoid the absurd insinuation that this is all taking place in the span of a year is, past the base game, using inexact descriptions of the timespans involved.

There are so many ways to express the passage of time -- short, long, in-between -- that give a lot of wiggle room. In the years since the Calamity, in all the years since the Battle of Silvertear, in the many years since the Bozja incident -- three things I came up with off the top of my head that express a general idea of how long its been while still allowing a lot of flexibility. It doesn’t matter if a player has done no side content or all of the side content, that flexibility allows them to interpret the timespans involved in a way that makes sense for their playthrough. The player’s suspension of disbelief doesn’t get broken, and the developers still don’t have to worry about portraying the exact ages of characters.

Instead, it’s still been five years since the Calamity, fifteen years since the Battle at Silvertear, twenty years since the Bozja incident, to the point it jars people out of the story and has them rolling their eyes instead of paying attention.

#tl;dr the point is that this is a clumsy amateur mistake that weakened the story for no reason #they're not doing anything clever with it it's just... stupid #nb: this refers to the english localization i have no idea if this is a problem in the other languages #writing

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cable-knit-sweater · 1 year

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Mayaaaaaa! *knocks on your window* are you alive in there???

That new photoshoot of Chris 🥵 I have thoughts. Many thoughts especially after the richy rich photos of Sebastian from this weekend. It feels like one of those Hallmarky movies.

Imagine this: rich CEO Seb is driving through MA on his way to some retreat or something that he's supposed to go to and find his zen after being totally stressed out. But his stupidly expensive car breaks down in this small town. Local mechanic Chris is there to fix it but it needs a part that'll take a day to come in. Chris offers Seb a place to stay at his farmhouse while he waits because they don't really have hotels.

There's homecooked food, lingering glances, horse riding through the beautiful countryside (it's autumn!). Lots of cosy sweaters, fireplaces and even pumpkin spiced lattes (which tastes better than any coffee chain Sebastian has ever been in).

Then Seb finds himself truly relaxing and enjoying himself for the first time in months - years even. Doesn't even check his emails once.

Oh, and they definitely have sex in that hayloft. Chris is picking out hay from Sebastian's hair with a soft chuckle, loving the way Seb looks in his borrowed clothes (those suits and shirts in Seb's suitcase were too formal).

Anyway - have a great day at work ✨ I'll be here when you need to flail 😘

Tej. I am barely alive. Just, hanging on by a thread, thank you very much for asking 😭😭😭😭

I too have many, many thoughts, most of them highly inappropriate and that my brain needs some more time to think through. Thankfully you’re much less unhinged than me and coming up with this BRILLIANT IDEA.

It’s frankly unfair for them to do this to us in such a short timespan. I’m still very far from being over how Seb looked at that event on Saturday, bc god damn he looked good 😫😫

And then to make it all worse, you ATTACK ME with this??? I am literally begging you to write this fic and also to never talk to me again bc what little was left of my mind has now combusted. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I can just SEE IT so clearly. I’m so weak for the idea of mechanic Chris, in his white tank with oil on his calloused hands, sweat dropping down his neck from a hard day at work, and Sebastian just needing a moment because how the fuck is he supposed to string words together into sentences when there’s this walking wet dream in front of him?

And when Chris does ask him to stay, he’s so eager to say yes, but also thinking this is probably the worst decision ever, because being in close quarters with Chris is going to be a challenge, to say the least. There’s no way Chris is into him - and Chris definitely thinks he’s some sort of spoiled brat at first.

But it actually turns out to be the best decision he’s ever made, because of all that you just said. They get to know each other pretty quickly. Chris makes him realize what the important things in life are, and he finally gets to relax. Of course there are lingering glances, home cooked meals and cosy sweaters. Chris giving him heated looks when Seb is wearing Chris’s clothes. Sebastian feeling absolutely overwhelmed with how this man isn’t just ruggedly handsome, but also incredibly sweet and caring, and a bit of a dork. They just click, and it’s like they’ve known each other forever, but also like this is what Sebastian had been waiting for forever, and desperately needed.

He definitely can’t believe his luck when after the tension builds and builds, they finally give in, and yes, have sex in a hay loft, probably all over the property really. He never really wants to leave.

I absolutely LOVE this whole idea and the fall vibes, and now you’ve written your first Evanstan fic, I NEED YOU to write this one next, pretty pretty please?? I’m gonna be thinking about this all day in between screaming, probably.

I love you and your genius brain so much 💕💕💕

#maya answers #evanstan #rpf #TEJ 💕💕💕#this is TOO FUCKING MUCH honestly

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brittle-doughie · 9 months

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Hey its 🎂 Birthday Cake Anon Sorry if am asking too many things in a short timespan but have my requests been received. I know that tumblr ate a lot of requests recently and want to know if you've received mines

Yus.

#brittle answers

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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[“What? It wasn’t a lie,” Ranboo said, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, Techno told me to become friends with you two so I could tell him things you might not wanna say to him or Phil, but I did it because I was trying to help you!”] either Aimsey only heard this part of the conversation, or learning Ranboo was told to befriend Tommy and Wilbur sent them over the edge. Maybe the fact that Ranboo admits it too.

Anyway, they are also all of us in this moment, and they are pissed. Because if that happened with Wilbur and Tommy, what if it happened with them too? Then Aimsey has about the exact same breakdown Tommy had. Going through the motions of “I defended Ranboo to Wilbur when he was right” and “I have told Ranboo so much info he should not have been trusted with”, but most importantly “was any of our friendship even real?” I’ll get back to that bit when talking about Ranboo himself.

Aimsey jumps on the bandwagon of forcing the truth out of Ranboo immediately. Because that’s the easiest way to find out if Ranboo screwed them over too. And he did, once and what that one thing was does determine how bad it was. I’m not sure if that matters to them or not, because Aimsey is pissed and it’s a betrayal either way. Knowing what it was will reveal if and how bad the damage was.

But most importantly, a lot of Wilbur and Tommy’s behaviour suddenly makes sense. And Aimsey is a Flosuim politician. That’s their field, that’d what’s important to them. So they would not know the true threat Essempi poses to the princes or how close that threat is. And even if they did, all logic is being overridden by anger. So they let the brothers go, getting info is more important. And they do care, so if the brothers don’t feel safe here, and Aimsey can see why, they should get to leave.

(2/3)

-🎄

aimsey mostly just heard that last bit. they didn't follow wilbur at first after their encounter. they kind of paced back and forth in the halls for a bit trying to decide what to do. they definitely considered doing what he asked and going back to their room. but then their curiosity got the better of them, so they tried to figure out where he went. they knew that ranboo had been heading back to his room so they wondered if wilbur and/or tommy was meeting up with him, hence why they headed in that direction. ranboo's room also happens to be close to the train platform, so they heard the voices coming from there and walked up just to hear that

poor aimsey had to speedrun the betrayal in such a short timespan while there is literally so much other stuff going on around them lmao. but they were pissed because they defended ranboo so many times, and they were genuinely upset at wilbur for being so hostile to him. but in the end, they're the fool, and their best friend on zephys iv lied to their face. they're not thrilled.

yeah fun fact aimsey had no idea wilbur and tommy could use their Voices, so they were internally reeling over that but decided to just deal with that surprise later and focus on getting answers out of ranboo while they can lmao. and sure enough, ranboo betrayed them.

keep in mind also, aimsey has talked a lot about being ignored by the other floslium ambassadors. they're not included in a lot of the larger conversations about what's happening in the galaxy. their role is limited, and so is the information they get. so that's why they don't know about how real the Essempi threat is (tbh, no one outside the military + phil and techno knew that Essempi ships had surveillance on the planet. that was classified info so as not to induce a panic).

and yeah, above all, aimsey is their friend. so even though leaving sounds like a bad idea, they're more focused on their own betrayal and how hurt their friends must be, so they let them go

#ask #spruce anon #the stars and their children

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thefamilyeldritchabomination · 1 year

Text

Chapter Seven: Echoes in Rain Pt. 4

“Lust, can we get the radio on?” Gluttony asked after a while of enduring the silence for quite a bit. “I don’t know Gluttony, I’m sure it’ll be nothing but Pride’s lockdown of the city and protocols.” Lust admitted as she got the list finished up for sacrificial offerings.

“If you want, I could tell a ghost story, that’s usually a tradition we have for storms like this anyways.” Dolly spoke up as she let the meat braise a bit in the stock.

“Aren’t you the one that normally reads fairy tales?” Envy asked with a bit of a perplexed tone from their mental planning. “Even fairy tales can be scary, but I do love ghost stories as well. So, will you take up my offer?” Dolly asked as she awaited the answer. “Envy we might as well, it’s certainly better than having to listen to protocols on the radio.” Lust stated as this was now a bit too quiet for her likings as well.

“Fine, but if I miss any carnage on the radio, I’m blaming you.” Envy relented as they leaned against the wall.

A playful smirk was painted on Dolly’s face for a change she had a story in mind, one she hadn’t told since Joel was a young child. It wasn’t even a question, more of a common sense reaction that she never told Freddy this story as he was already too squeamish and wasn’t sure how he’d handle it. The thunder rumbled out once again as Dolly started up the story as she kept watch on the food on the stove. “Well, if you are so insistent on hearing this one, I’ll gladly tell you. We had this relative, let’s call him George for simplicity sake, that had traveled southward for warmer temperatures. The colder weather up north was doing harm to his joints and had always wanted to live by a lake. George managed to get this job you see on an island in the middle of a lake as the lighthouse keeper at the time.” Dolly started the story off calmly as she checked the meat. “Thing to know about this island was that it had often been known for how fast many have quitted running the lighthouse job with a short timespan. George was I believe the twenty-fifth lighthouse keeper within that year when he got hired. The island was pretty self-sufficient with its own wild game and berries that grew in abundance there, so George really didn’t need to worry about food supplies. No, the real worry was when the lighthouse tour had begun for the first day on the job.” Dolly continued before getting cut off with a bit of laughter from Envy.

“And then the ghost of some drowned fisherman popped out, we’ve heard..” Envy was about to say more when Dolly held a finger up in a hushed tone.

“No, you should never assume things just that way before it's begun. The day was balmy as George and the guide exited the home that George was supposed to move into as they went up to the lighthouse. This lighthouse was built on a wooden platform as they came up to the stairs when something caught George’s eyes. Underneath the platform was this nest of planks, driftwood, and nails that were slapped together haphazardly, dangling like a wooden tumor at the base of the lighthouse. George had asked about the ugly construction underneath the lighthouse to only have the guide being just as confused by it. “ Dolly started the story back up again as Envy just rolled their eyes at it.

“It was a glaring sight that George didn’t want to see every time he came up to run the lighthouse, so he had asked the guide about getting the wooden mound of ugliness removed. Unfortunately for George, because the Lighthouse was considered a historical landmark in the area, removing the unsightly construct underneath would compromise its historical integrity. So, the eyesore stayed much to George’s displeasure as the tour concluded and the move in date was set. Each day since moving there, George would always be greeted to the sight of the unwelcomed crime against architecture everytime he went to work.” Dolly paused as she got the meat off the stove to set for a bit.

“The construct seemed to grow each day, getting bigger every time George would go to work. Till one day, George had enough when the blanket he had placed over the entrance to the underside of the platform went missing. The next day, taking a boat to town, George went to the local carpenter to see about getting the offending bundle of wood removed, regardless of it being a part of a historical landmark or not. An agreement had been reached, three days or less to remove the construct underneath the platform before anyone else would notice provided that free meals would be given during that timespan and George took the carpenter back to the island with him to get the process started immediately.” Dolly stopped for a bit to test the meal a bit before touching up the seasonings with cinnamon and almond extract. “Things went well for the first day and a half, the carpenter would come out on time for the free meal on schedule and often they would chat a bit before parting to do their respective jobs. Then the carpenter suddenly stopped coming out around lunch time. George started to get a little worried, but figured the carpenter must have lost track of time. In George’s infinite wisdom, he crawled under the damned platform to check on the carpenter and give him the heads up about lunch being ready. As far as George could see, the tools were out and the entrance to the construct had been opened up the previous day to dismantle from the inside, but no signs of the carpenter. Clearly this was a brilliant idea to go inside of the construct as George went in.” Dolly continued as she started to fry up the pears to go with the lunch, Envy eying what’s being made.

“What had been dry wood on the outside was like warm, humid, and damp leather on the inside as George entered. There were no signs of the carpenter as George went further inside of this leathery discomfort. His shoes were starting to stick a bit to the floor, having a bit of a hard time navigating when George stepped on something hard. Beneath the melting sole of George’s shoe was the halfway dissolved remains of the carpenter, having fused to the floor and starting to blend in with the flesh tone leather interior. A sulphuric smell started to fill the inside as a low rumbling sound started up, George had enough. Though his shoes were pretty much melting at that point, George ran as fast as he could out of the structure and kept on running till the sight of the boat came into view. George scrambled into the boat and had started paddling away from the island when he heard something like wood snapping. Scurrying out from underneath the platform was that horrible construct on four wooden legs, running off into the forest of the island. Ever since, George or anyone else from his family never went to the island ever again.” Dolly concluded as she served up the cinnamon chicken soup with fried pear and fenugreek gouda.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA Fan Fiction #Fan Fiction #FMA 03 #The Wayfarer #Writing #Envy the Jealous #Envy #Lust the Lascivious #Lust #Gluttony the Voracious #Gluttony #OCs #Homunculi #Homunculus #Oh hey an inserted Ghost story :D

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alightinthedarkness1 · 1 year

Text

Chapter Four

Many years had passed since then, twelve years to be proper, and even still, Bemril's death remained fresh on Arachne's conscience in both her dreams and daydreams, still enduring as an abscessed memory. And as painful as it was, the young heiress still knew that she could shed no tears and show no trembling limbs when she woke. Instead, she had to continue her facade of serenity and hide her skepticism towards the violent and murderous ways of the drow, despite the fact that her hands, too, were bloodstained with that of her kin.

Rising from her bed, now sporting that of an adult's body, and the body she would keep for her remaining centuries on the world, Arachne retreated to her lavatory that was connected to the stone chiseled cavern that she had learned to call her room, in which she ran her hair long, smooth pale hair under water and bathed herself in a wooden tub, allowing the cold water to soothe her from the nightmare before, closing her lavender eyes, now darkened from knowledge of the world that she had seen within her short nineteen years of life.

The nightmare she had had found herself submerged in the night before was not dissimilar to the others Arachne had over the past twelve years of anything short of tribulation, started with her and a knife. Grasped in her now mature fingers, she held in with her mother grasping on the hilt with her, before she embedded her small pocket knife into Bemril's heart. His screams echoing through the entire Underdark endlessly, only terminating when Arachne, perplexed and scared, a sheet of sweat coating her darkened features, jerked upwards in her bed.

But the young drow elf decided to not dwell on such things, as some day in the nearing future she would receive the ability that was so cherished by her race, including that of the lighter skinned variety, known as the Reverie, although those who were unaware of their culture called it the trance. And what that entailed was her acquisition of her previous life's memories, that Arachne would continue to witness until she turned one hundred, and would be able to recall her own memories through the Reverie. Although it was quite ironic, for the fact that the drow tried so hard to turn away their surface brethren's culture and ceremonies, and yet some things remained the same. One example being the fact that the Reverie was still even acknowledged was a miracle in of itself considering the hatred towards the entirety of their light-skinned kin. However, the more showcased, more different side between the two races still remained, making them ultimately different. For instance, the adult age for the drow was considered to be at twenty five, while the age for the surface elves remained one hundred when the Reverie began to become more personal to the bearer.

With all that aside, Arachne, as she pondered, proceeded through her routine with ease, as it was rather simple, also, in understanding that she would be helping Matron Aunerae with her preparation before the next sacrifice, and would be witnessing said sacrifice, she understood and anticipated that she would need to be the showcase of power. And this was for the simple reason that she had not seen her mother in about ten years, and instead had been focusing on her clerical studies, and her mother being rather focused on her own duties of Matron Mother. It wasn't an oddity for drow children to not see their parents often, and it was strange enough that Arachne was seeing her mother in such a short timespan since the last time she had seen her, as most drow elves only saw their parents once every one hundred fifty years or so.

So as she ventured forth into the dreary halls of House Coborial, Arachne had not been expecting to see a malnourished and frail young boy run up to her and look up at her with fearful crimson eyes. He spoke in a meek tone of voice, most likely due to the whipping that he would more than likely go through on a daily basis from his faction's priestess in the House. "Matron Aunerae is calling you to the council chamber, ma'am."

Looking down at the boy and suppressing a reassuring smile, or what she understood to be a reassuring gesture, but nonetheless Arachne understood that if she were to give a lower born such a look, it would bring disgrace to their already rocky image. "Dismissed." the drow elf commented sourly, a facade she was quite skilled at raising since she began questioning her community's gruesome ways.

As the boy ran off with bare feet, blistered from the warm sulfur springs the House was located near, and for the fact that younger boys, to test their constitution and drive. The weak died from the heat, while the strong or mildly disturbed were given unspoken respect and honor from those in the lower-born classes. This was one of the many reasons why the Coborials remained the most powerful House, as they subjected their warriors to the harshest trials, and forced fear down their throat should they make even a minor mistake.

When she made her way to the council chamber, deciding to not worry about the possibility of her own sacrifice, or that she could be in any punishable state, she instead allowed her mind to focus on her face, which needed to remain still and dignified, while also showcasing grace and terrifying beauty. As such was expected of all females, even those such as Arachne who had seen far too much at far too young.

Opening the large double doors leading into the council chambers, the drow elf stood up straight, hands folded behind her, as there sat the High Council of Abburth, the first five Houses of the city, and therefore the most powerful in their vicinity. That included Arachne's House, Coborial, House Kilsek, House Vandree, House Telenna, and the recently appointed fifth, House Eilservs. Each of their Matrons and the eldest daughters sat there, each beside their mothers, each sitting with auras of power emitting from them.

Taking a seat beside Matron Aunerae, she nodded her head in apology before allowing the meeting to continue, in which her mother began it with a stern remark of annoyance, confusement laced with these words. "The entire city's women lost their clerical powers. I have a dreaded feeling that the buffoon of a human prophet we found a few decades ago was right."

This was in reference to a strange, crazed, old human man that had been found limping about the Underdark caverns near Abburth, and when he had been met by a drow expedition party, one of which Arachne's now eldest brother, Xarann was a part of. He took note of all he said, which was just one line, repeated before he suddenly fell dead from the sulfur plaguing his lungs. "The time when They come to the world of mortals, one cycle's time." All just assumed he meant nothing, and was simply spouting nonsensical spatter in his last moments, but it appeared as if it could be connected to the strange occurrence now.

"So the 'they' he spoke of was the Gods? Or just Lolth? And what did he mean by 'one cycle', one cycle of Mystérieuse, or of a surfacer's year?" Matron Nathrae Telenna inquired, flaunting her knowledge of magic and prophecies, due to her successful wizard sons, one even being the Head Teacher of the wizard's school, Gloufmarth.

"I can send out spies to the surface to see what state their dreaded clerics are in." Matron Haelra Kilsek offered, mentioning her well developed spy and informant networks, a subtle reminder of her eyes and ears about and around all of them, red eyes gleaming with dominance upon the Council.

Matron Aunerae nodded, "Good. And I will send expeditions of clerics and warriors to the other main cities to discuss how we might find our Queen if she has, in fact, become mortal." Impulsive nods of approval followed her mother's remark, in fear that she would destroy them for a simple incorrect move. Arachne knew she wouldn't, it was far too risky in the state of things in the world at the time.

And there the Time of Troubles began, and should anyone alive at the time think that the surface world had a time of chaos and death follow the time in which the Gods themselves, the very glue that held the world together, fell down to the mortal world, they would have been driven mad by the pandemonium caused in the Underdark. As a community brought about by murder, those who did take the opportunity to destroy their upper Houses in their weakened states would soon find that the power they found themselves in would be stripped from them when the Time of Troubles ended.

My family, we were in a constant state of panic, as we had been in that situation before, without Lolth and alone. We survived, just barely, and remained up at the top of the hierarchy, and after we regained Her favor, anyone who ever doubted us soon found themselves dead in their beds. This was all before my birth, but the instance of the phenomena, it caused so many things to be brought into motion that I could not fathom when it all began. It shaped my very being now, a century later.

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aspiringfictionwriter · 1 year

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A Light in the Darkness: Chapter Four

Trigger warnings: mentions of death (please notify if this needs to be changed)

Many years had passed since then, twelve years to be proper, and even still, Bemril’s death remained fresh on Arachne’s conscience in both her dreams and daydreams, still enduring as an abscessed memory. And as painful as it was, the young heiress still knew that she could shed no tears and show no trembling limbs when she woke. Instead, she had to continue her facade of serenity and hide her skepticism towards the violent and murderous ways of the drow, despite the fact that her hands, too, were bloodstained with that of her kin.

Rising from her bed, now sporting that of an adult’s body, and the body she would keep for her remaining centuries on the world, Arachne retreated to her lavatory that was connected to the stone chiseled cavern that she had learned to call her room, in which she ran her hair long, smooth pale hair under water and bathed herself in a wooden tub, allowing the cold water to soothe her from the nightmare before, closing her lavender eyes, now darkened from knowledge of the world that she had seen within her short nineteen years of life.

The nightmare she had had found herself submerged in the night before was not dissimilar to the others Arachne had over the past twelve years of anything short of tribulation, started with her and a knife. Grasped in her now mature fingers, she held in with her mother grasping on the hilt with her, before she embedded her small pocket knife into Bemril’s heart. His screams echoing through the entire Underdark endlessly, only terminating when Arachne, perplexed and scared, a sheet of sweat coating her darkened features, jerked upwards in her bed.

But the young drow elf decided to not dwell on such things, as some day in the nearing future she would receive the ability that was so cherished by her race, including that of the lighter skinned variety, known as the Reverie, although those who were unaware of their culture called it the trance. And what that entailed was her acquisition of her previous life’s memories, that Arachne would continue to witness until she turned one hundred, and would be able to recall her own memories through the Reverie. Although it was quite ironic, for the fact that the drow tried so hard to turn away their surface brethren’s culture and ceremonies, and yet some things remained the same. One example being the fact that the Reverie was still even acknowledged was a miracle in of itself considering the hatred towards the entirety of their light-skinned kin. However, the more showcased, more different side between the two races still remained, making them ultimately different. For instance, the adult age for the drow was considered to be at twenty five, while the age for the surface elves remained one hundred when the Reverie began to become more personal to the bearer.

With all that aside, Arachne, as she pondered, proceeded through her routine with ease, as it was rather simple, also, in understanding that she would be helping Matron Aunerae with her preparation before the next sacrifice, and would be witnessing said sacrifice, she understood and anticipated that she would need to be the showcase of power. And this was for the simple reason that she had not seen her mother in about ten years, and instead had been focusing on her clerical studies, and her mother being rather focused on her own duties of Matron Mother. It wasn’t an oddity for drow children to not see their parents often, and it was strange enough that Arachne was seeing her mother in such a short timespan since the last time she had seen her, as most drow elves only saw their parents once every one hundred fifty years or so.

So as she ventured forth into the dreary halls of House Coborial, Arachne had not been expecting to see a malnourished and frail young boy run up to her and look up at her with fearful crimson eyes. He spoke in a meek tone of voice, most likely due to the whipping that he would more than likely go through on a daily basis from his faction’s priestess in the House. “Matron Aunerae is calling you to the council chamber, ma’am.”

Looking down at the boy and suppressing a reassuring smile, or what she understood to be a reassuring gesture, but nonetheless Arachne understood that if she were to give a lower born such a look, it would bring disgrace to their already rocky image. “Dismissed.” the drow elf commented sourly, a facade she was quite skilled at raising since she began questioning her community’s gruesome ways.

Opening the large double doors leading into the council chambers, the drow elf stood up straight, hands folded behind her, as there sat the High Council of Abburth, the first five Houses of the city, and therefore the most powerful in their vicinity. That included Arachne’s House, Coborial, House Kilsek, House Vandree, House Telenna, and the recently appointed fifth, House Eilservs. Each of their Matrons and the eldest daughters sat there, each beside their mothers, each sitting with auras of power emitting from them.

Taking a seat beside Matron Aunerae, she nodded her head in apology before allowing the meeting to continue, in which her mother began it with a stern remark of annoyance, confusement laced with these words. “The entire city’s women lost their clerical powers. I have a dreaded feeling that the buffoon of a human prophet we found a few decades ago was right.”

This was in reference to a strange, crazed, old human man that had been found limping about the Underdark caverns near Abburth, and when he had been met by a drow expedition party, one of which Arachne’s now eldest brother, Xarann was a part of. He took note of all he said, which was just one line, repeated before he suddenly fell dead from the sulfur plaguing his lungs. “The time when They come to the world of mortals, one cycle’s time.” All just assumed he meant nothing, and was simply spouting nonsensical spatter in his last moments, but it appeared as if it could be connected to the strange occurrence now.

“So the ‘they’ he spoke of was the Gods? Or just Lolth? And what did he mean by ‘one cycle’, one cycle of Mystérieuse, or of a surfacer’s year?” Matron Nathrae Telenna inquired, flaunting her knowledge of magic and prophecies, due to her successful wizard sons, one even being the Head Teacher of the wizard’s school, Gloufmarth.

“I can send out spies to the surface to see what state their dreaded clerics are in.” Matron Haelra Kilsek offered, mentioning her well developed spy and informant networks, a subtle reminder of her eyes and ears about and around all of them, red eyes gleaming with dominance upon the Council.

Matron Aunerae nodded, “Good. And I will send expeditions of clerics and warriors to the other main cities to discuss how we might find our Queen if she has, in fact, become mortal.” Impulsive nods of approval followed her mother’s remark, in fear that she would destroy them for a simple incorrect move. Arachne knew she wouldn’t, it was far too risky in the state of things in the world at the time.

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