#embalmer kin

[electro-kins]

lesbian aesop carl pride icons for @elwindss !!

reblog/like if using <3

#aesthetic #kin #icons #my icons #pride icons #pride edit #aesop carl #aesop carl kin #aesop carl icons #lesbian #idv embalmer #identity v embalmer #embalmer kin #embalmer icons #identity v kin #identity v icons #identity v edits #identity v #idv #idv kin #idv icons #idv edits #idv pride icons

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Ello!

Love your blog!

Can I request a female hunter reader where she’s looks frightening and intimidating to the survivors but she’s actually very gentle and doesn’t like to hurt them , she doesn’t talk much. She’s very curious of them and finds them very cute, due to that she doesn’t strike them down during the matches she just catches them in her arms and places them gently on the chairs, while camping she likes to examine them closer, for the female survivors she looks at their makeup and plays with their outfits while for the male survivors she likes to boop their nose and play with their hair while giggling. And *cough* *cough* when carrying the male survivors to the chairs she sneakily purposely presses them closer to her *cough* mellonsssss just to tease and see their reaction (she’s a bit of a flirt)

Wasnt sure how to write this but hope you like it.

I based this off a indie game i played lol

It no secret among the out "gods" of your curiosity towards humans. Hastur claims they are all selfish and greedy creatures, and Cthulhu can claim the same. You, a creature formed by Azathoth, you have seen many of your Creator realms and have decided to study the reality of this world. Nightingale allowed you to see the manor, her domain as long as you respect her rules.

Though she knows a young deity like you will have no want to hunt nor kill humans, she still asks for you to partake in her games.

The last human you where with, in another reality, was detective who was solving a case about the both the death of his father and cult. His mind was amazing to lurk in, and his life exciting to shadow behind. Sadly, he died after solving the case in order to seal a portal going to allow Cthulhu to enter (know him he would have destroyed that realm for disturbing him).

The ones called 'survivors', are fascinating! None, or few, are good people. Most are mentally broken, easy to toy with; others seem to be trying to fight for future only this 'prize' can provide.

When you caught the survivor known as 'perfumer', you felt pity for her but level of shame for the woman. To kill one's kin out of jealousy is an age old tale you are aware. You then found another named 'lawyer' who you are disgusted by. His greed and selfish caused the death and abandonment of a father and a daughter.

You are quite gentle with these humans compared to those like Night Watch or The Ripper, those too seem to feed on the fear of the humans being hunted. The one hunter you enjoy the space of is 'Geisha' or Michiko as she informed you. She does not get a thrill from killing others but she cannot help herself.

You do like this one survivor, he reminds you of your detective. Orpheus, you believe his name is. The meaning behind the name is not lost to you, it even adds to the charm. Hm, no there are others you like too. Priestess and Seer, for they seem to be the only ones to know you are no normal or limited hunter like the others. You do not kill for thrills, you chair them as per the rules. The conversations with them is quite amusing. Enchantress too, though she did attempt to stab you when she thought you a threat. Another you enjoy studying is 'Prisoner' his mind is mess but it holds many, many treasures of inventions.

Oh, it so hard to claim a favorite! You love to hold them close to your chest to feel their life close to your unreal one. Flesh and blood, a heartbeat, they are alive! Though you have been told but both Embalmer and Grave Keeper not to hold them in such an improper manner-- Though you do not like using the balloons to hold them up in the air, it seems rather silly.

#anon ask #reader insert #idv reader insert #idv x you #idv x reader #identity v x you #identity v x reader #identity v

[anya-anya002]

Wishing funeral director! Mr.Turner a happy birthday would include….

First off- it’s Mr.Turner’s birthday?

Was almost everyone’s reaction within ‘Parks and Kin’

It’s not like any of you could be blamed….it’s not like Mr.Turner’s the warmest man on the planet-

he’s just somehow slightly less cold than the clientele here

Upon finding out it’s his birthday, you wanted to get him something

Should you get him anything? What the hell do you get a funeral director for his birthday?

And then it hit you….

You’d told Mr. Turner to meet you in the embalming room for an “important discussion,” little did he expect to see you laid out on the embalming table, covered in a thin linen. At the bottom of your feet was an assortment of bones that read:

ᵂᴵᴸᴸ ᵁ ᴮᴼᴺᴱ ᴹᴱ

“Is that real bone?” he asked, a smile slowly began to grace his face as he brought a hand to your thigh. You shudder at the warmth of his hand clashing with the nerve-chilling cold of the metal slab.

“Do I get extra points if it is?” you tease, and that just riled him up. His lips swiftly pressed against yours to prevent another word from leaving yours. His eyelashes fluttered against the apples of your cheeks while you paw and tugged at anything on him your hands could find. Your teeth lacked against each other as his hand slithered up to your tummy to the hand that held the sheet up to your breasts. Your pulse was throbbing as he pulled the sheet down and started cupping your lukewarm skin.

His breath heaved against the crook of your neck as you sigh, placing a hand on his shoulder as your thighs pressed together lewdly. His lips were wet with saliva as he nibbled and bit at your supple skin as you moan. Pillowy and soft, they drag up to your jaw as his warm, thick, long fingers wrap around your hardened nipples as you moan softly. His breath ghosted against the side of your face as you heaved.

“This is the best gift,” he whispered. His eyes still glued to the dingy, off-white linen that pooled around your hips and stomach as you breathed.

“This is no doubt gonna do something for you,” you joked. He scoffed, pinching your nipples hard as you squeal in pain and excitement, your hips beginning to rock on their own. Trying their damnedest to must his as he scooted himself closer towards the table top.

“And what if it does?” he asked, growing slowly climbing atop the cold, steel, embalming table as your heart thrumped loudly in your chest. Both your breathes caught in your throats as the soft thuds of his limbs melting the dip in the slab as he now fully rested atop you.

“I’ll let you figure it out,” you grinned then gasped at him pushing you back down onto the table, your muscles tensing like you've been thrown into a tundra. All the nerves on your skin jumped up. Leaving your skin all pimply as Alex’s breath on your skin brought heat to your whole face.

“How about we find out together?” Mr. Turner purred, pressing his hard-on into your thigh as he moved his hands from your breasts. Large, found their way back to himself, slowly beginning to undo the zipper of his jeans as you suck in a breath.

“Don’t get shy. You suggested it,” he taunted before unzipping himself and revealing a surprise: he’s gone commando today. Your cheeks stung as he chuckled at your wide, doey-eyed face, pulling his cock out with no hesitation. A smirk lightly graced his face as you chewed on your bottom lip.

The room felt as if it were spinning as you spread your legs slowly, making a heavy imprint in the sheet. Alex ran his hands up your thighs. His fingertips gently swiped side to side as if searching for some type of hidden treasure. Your breath hitched as your hand crept underneath the cloth to meet his. The warmth of his skin radiated off him as he inched closer between your legs. Your eyes were glued to the obvious lump beneath the sheet that slithered ever so close to your cunt.

“Y/N,” Alex said in a low, hushed tone. By now, your skulls kissed as he breathed heavily. The hand that was under the cloth gripped at your thigh, pushing it aside as he slid between your legs. Your mind racing wildly as you looked up at him.

“Yea?” you sigh, your eyes couldn't bring themselves to his. Your knees knocked against one another as he pressed a chaste kiss to your temple before rolling the head of his cock against your leaking slit as you moaned into the table. Gripping the ends of it as you shivered underneath him.

“Don’t hold back,” he said, and then he drove into your tight hole as you held back a moan, his hand shot for your jaw. Forcing your lips to pucker as he plunged deep into your pussy. A long groan left you as you clench around him.

“That's it, Princess, let daddy know how good ‘is cock feels,” he hummed. Alex rocked his hips into yours, the light clatter of glass bottles filled your ears. Your eyes screwed shut. The crumbly feeling of static ran through your fingers. Your stomach flopped as his hips quickly began to fuck harder into you.

A bevy of moans and whines tumbled from your lips as Alex flung his head back wantonly. His thrusts somehow perfectly hit your spot as you writhed.

Your body jolted whenever your skin met the untouched, frigid parts of the metal slab. Unintentionally clenching around his cock, the both of you pause. Moaning into the still air. His clothes chest heaved while his left hand gripped your face a little tighter. Your teeth clacked together in tune with his thrusts.

“Fuck you're so tight,” his cock nudged at your spot again as you drooled onto the web of his palm. Your toes curled against the slab, and the sticky slaps of your skin grew louder, echoing throughout the embalming room. Both your huffs filled the air as he reached for your breast with his free hand. Engulfing your chest with his large, calloused hand palmed at your tit while he moaned softly.

Gasps and cries of bliss leave you as he rolls his hips into yours. You bucked back into his, clenching and unclenching around him now arching your back and wrapping a leg around him.

“Yea, fucking milk my cock angel,” he sighed, watching your greedy hole spasm around him. A creamy, white ring of slick formed around his dick. Moaning as the both of you buck into each other. Alex removed his hand from your face, your moans now louder as your eyes screwed shut.

The cold air grew warm as you both began to melt into each other. Bucking into each other as the clatter of embalming fluid filled the room. His cock drove deeper as Alex moaned into the crook of your neck, gripping the fat of your thigh as his thrusts started to speed up. His moans grew louder, and his chest heaved. His locks of hair fell out of place as his hips started to stutter.

Your breath caught in your throat as he twitched inside you. His brows furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Baby, where do you want me to cum huh?” he asked between moans, still thrusting quick inside you as you squirmed as your abdomen pulled.

“I-” You blinked away the fog that clouded your head and looked up at him. Alex paused, panting as he held onto your leg. He now looked into your eyes. The syrupy, saccharine brown of his irises shined in the cold, blue fluorescent light. He couldn't help the slight grin on his face as you breathe.

“It's okay, just point to me where,” he cooed, his tone shakey as he tried catching his breath. You can feel his pulse racing as you raise a trembling finger towards your breasts. With a huff, he carefully slid out of your hole. Making you miss the fullness he gave you as he straddled your stomach. His tip poked at your breast as he stroked himself.

Mr. Turner huffed. His hips bucked into his fist wildly as you bit your lip in anticipation. He cursed loudly as you press your breasts together. Screwing his eyes shut while you watch in awe.

“Fuck you look so fucking pretty baby,” he groaned, flinging his head back. His cock head full of blood as it twitched in his palm. Swiping his leaking tip as pressed your thighs together tightly.

“Tell me how much you want my cum,” he blurts, moaning as his thrusts suddenly slowed. His mouth fell open, you could only blink in slight shock.

“I want your cum,” you stuttered. Your fingers weakly pinched at your nipples. He moaned in response, drips on precum fell onto the valley of your breasts.

“Yeah fucking beg for my cum princess,”

“I want your cum on my tits Mr.Turner,”

“Yea baby? You need my fucking cum huh? Such a filthy fucking slut, bringing me in here and letting me fuck you on the embalming table?” he taunted, his hand now moving faster as a grin snuck into your face watching him now squirm and fuck in his hand with need. Moaning louder as his thumb swiped his slit.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum baby,” he groaned. Pre still dripping from his cock as you hummed and watched while he cursed. His hips still thrusting while you scoot down directly below his leaking girth. He snagged his lip between teeth as he let out a low, guttural groan.

His hips stuttering as fat drops of cum fell on your breasts. His groans echoed throughout the room as your eyes fell on his cumming cock. Heavily breathing, Alex crumpled atop you. The pounding of his heart could be felt between your chests. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reach a hand up to card through his hair. Feeling his chest expand and compress against yours.

“Happy Birthday Mr.Turner,”

* 4 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 🫧~

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅: @yourstartreatment @himesuedi @disfordangerous4 @harrysbestiee

#anya—anya #my fics #alex turner #practicum #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #arctic monkeys #funeral director! alex #explict #public smut #mortuary au #mentor x mentee #you guys… #it was bookie’s birthday #Bout late asf #my brain hurt

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

I’d ask for more stuff for the reader with the employers (other than Audi) but rrrrrfgg. So little content of them

I feel you Anon, but that's cuz there's jack shit info on them. This got longer than intended and tumblr wont let me save anymore to this post, so I'll make another post with Conductor and Deliberator! :]

Stygian x reader

CW: Talks of death/decay

STYGIAN

Arguably the oldest of the four widely known employers, for as long as life has existed, so too has death. Black wisps of smoke curled around his skeletal form, flowing down without pattern or consistency. His few visible features deep set in his face, from his dull pink eyes, to his cheekbones protruding prominently.

His paper thin skin seemed to barely sit on the pink toned bones, looking as if any movement would tear it away, it was something you'd wondered about often when thinking of him.

"Worm." His voice was hollow, a soulless husky rasp with a hint of airiness to it. That was how he referred to everyone he deemed below him, which was everything but his kin.

Being called upon to aid in his work was exciting, yet a heavy burden. Plenty of dead souls passed this realm, and you were part of an exclusive team of judges, dictating where each S-3LF should go. To be reborn, to be banished to purgatory, sentenced to hell, or perhaps the worst fate you'd come to learn of, to be torn asunder into nothing, scattered across the cosmic void.

Sure, purgatory and hell weren't pleasant places, but arguably seemed kinder fates that simply becoming completely undone, as though one had never existed at all...

He snapped his fingers, and you were alone in his office. "Sit." His voice was cold and commanding, yet it always had that tone. Reading him was difficult, always a frigid reception, emotionless to the fullest extent. You obeyed without a word, the chair uncomfortable and worn, unlike the one behind his desk, which was new, plush, and looked a whole lot more comfortable.

His gaunt figure passed by, and a hint of ash mixed with embalming fluids flooded your nose, still incredibly potent despite how often the smell filled your office space.

Narrow hip bones lay neath the skirt of his black floor length toga, a belt of tiny animal skulls rested around his waist. "You are being far too kind to these pathetic bugs. You have yet to submit souls to be cast into The Nothing. Weakness like this shall not be taken lightly."

"I'm sorry, sir." His eyes narrowed.

"These are unworthy beings deserving of erasure, if you can't comply, you'll find yourself joining them into obscurity."

"I'll do better, sir. I vow it."

"As is expected. You are meant to make my job easier. Remember, you are replaceable."

"Understood, sir."

You were suddenly back in your office, leaving Stygian alone in his. He sat at his desk, gritting his teeth. Yes, this little worm was weak, below him, so why couldn't he get you off his mind?

Too kind for their own good, even when he insulted them, berated and tore them apart, they were ever-so polite and always replied formally. His smoke curled around his head, growing thicker as his annoyance grew, filling the room with a black and pink haze.

He was the beast of death, reeling in souls and fixing the afterlife for all, and love and romance weren't really his deal. He was utterly blind to this, doubly so because it was mere mortal that caught his fancy.

He snapped his fingers, and at once a younger fellow Employer appeared in the chair ahead of him. "You really need to stop doing that. I was busy." Dreamer sighed and looked at Stygian. "Why did you call on me, brother?"

Stygian sighed, like a wind blowing through bones. "A mortal being plagues my mind. You deal with these things regularly, what do you propose is wrong with me?"

Dreamer twirled her star earring. "Depends, what thoughts are you thinking?"

"They infest my mind like maggots, writhing in my skin and burrowing deeper. Their face haunts my mind, a ghost trapped in my skull. Tell me Dreamer, tell me, what is wrong?"

Summoning a tea cup, Dreamer sipped thoughtfully. "You're in love."

"What?"

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "This mortal, whoever they are, you're in love with them. Indulge in it, or don't. Do what thou will, tis what thy's best at. But if you do intent to pursue them, do change out of your deathly rags, okay Steeg?" She clapped her hands, and was gone.

In love? HIM? Bullshit, Dreamer was in her own world again. No. He wasn't in love. He needed to kill you, to break you from his mind entirely, to make you cease to exist, to-

A stack of documents landed in his tray, and he groaned, taking the top one off. His eyes instantly went to the bottom, your signature freshly inked. "Perhaps the purple one has a point." He slumped in his chair slightly, casting the paper aside. Auditor could file them himself, he enjoyed that stuff anyway.

Stygian got up, melting into the floor, appearing back in his private quarters. Heading to his wardrobe, he cracked it open, seeing nothing more than old suits, funeral attire, and worn out reaper robes. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, of course his clothing was useless, he rarely took care of his physical form.

He's living death for Maker's sake, why is he fussing about this?!

"Your thoughts are disrupting my flow." Connie was sitting in a chair in Stygian's bedroom.

"Tis a shame we cannot all have coherent thoughts, Conductor." Stygian scowled angrily. "Precisely what are you intending to achieve here?"

Conductor let out a melodic chuckle, his voice smooth like a fine tuned instrument. "You're not yourself. You're... Bothered. And I don't mean your usual gloom filled irritated self." He rested his head on a fist. "And since when do you change your attire but once a century?"

Stygian gritted his sharp teeth. "Well. Fine. Dreamer may have placed..... Strange thoughts in my mind, about... 'Love.' With some mortal of all things." He threw an old suit on the floor. "And that my clothes are RAGS!"

Connie straightened his tie. "She.. Has a point on that second thing." He pulled his baton, twirling it around in his hands, a blue light shooting out and wrapping itself around Stygian, and instantly tall, dark, and depressing was in a new, freshly pressed three piece suit with a pink tie to match his eyes. "Much better."

Stygian tapped his tie, and a skull lapel pin appeared on it.

Again Conductor swirled his baton, and a fat bouquet of white lilies mixed with blood red roses appeared in Stygian's arms. "Mortals are finicky, they enjoy things like that. Now go and demand they accept your offer."

You were seated at your desk still, condemning another old soul to the void. This one had lived so many lives, so many wicked lived. Dissolving them would be a blessing to the world... That was rather cruel, unlike your usual thoughts. Strange...

"Ahem." You spun in your chair, seeing Stygian in a full suit, his misty 'hair' flowing down, streaks of pink inside inky black. "You will attend a restaurant with me tonight. We need to discuss what happened earlier in greater depth."

Stygian wasn't asking, he was commanding. "Y-yes sir." You found yourself questioning his motives, he never spent time with anyone besides his brothers and sister.

His eyes narrowed, reading you back. "Here." He grunted, thrusting his arm out, shoving the bouquet into your face. "I've been informed that your kind... enjoys such gestures."

"What.. is this?" You looked up from your roses and lilies, and spotted soft pink flushing his cheeks, his eyes averted. "Sir?"

"Just get ready." Stygian snapped his fingers, a body hugging lacy black dress, with rhinestones and intricate little patterns embroidered on, and a classy all black suit, equally bejewelled with lace gloves both appeared on your desk. "Hopefully either of those should be to your liking."

You picked out one of the garments and rushed off to the staff toilets, heart racing and hands shaking. This wasn't happening, right? In a second, Stygian's hand would slam on your desk, and he'd bark at you to wake up. Surely he hadn't picked up on your slight attraction to him, right?

It was cringe-worthy, the living embodiment of death making your stomach butterflies flutter wildly. His cold demeanour, his harsh attitude, the puppy-love feeling of him softening these traits for you, it was all a fantasy, right?

Dressing up, you stepped out, and nearly collided with Stygian, who was lingering outside. "You... look nice." He grumbled, covering his mouth. "I figured you could perhaps enhance your appearance further with this."

He held out a box, opening it to show off a beautiful necklace with pink gemstones encrusted in rose gold metal. "A-are you sure about this sir? This doesn't seem like you."

Stygian looked at you finally, smoke swirling around his skull, twirling around your face as he stepped closer. "Don't think I haven't picked up on your signals, mortal. I can hear the way your heart races when you're close to me, I feel the lingering stares that could almost imprint in my form. I've ignored it and pushed it down for as long as I could, mistaking my own affections for resentment.

You wish to entangle yourself with death? Then prove to me you're worthy of it." Your hands grasped his cheeks, passing through his misty form and grabbing a hold of the black bone beneath, pulling it towards your face, feeling his teeth against your lips.

His flames were cool, but his bones were warm, pleasantly heating your hands as you held him, one of his skeletal hands covered yours, the other pulling you closer by your hips.

A lightheaded feeling washed over you, you started to collapse in his arms, but he was quick to support you. As he pulled back, you noticed a white mist flowing from between his teeth.

"Quite literally stealing your breath away." Resting in his arms a moment, his hand rubbed your back to comfort you, the other cradling your head against his chest. "To be in love with a mortal... To my kin it's unheard of. But you're different. You always have been. You vex me, but I crave it."

He slipped the necklace around your neck, and you looked up from the comfort of his skeletal form to his pink eyes. "Does this mean you're not firing me at dinner tonight?" You joked and he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Of course not. How dare you expect me to let such a good thing go."

#madness combat #madcom #stygian #madness combat stygian #madcom stygian #the employers #stygian x reader #madcom reader insert #madness combat reader insert #madness combat x reader #oc dreamer #the conductor #conductor #madness project nexus #x gon deliver to ya #maybe got a bit sloppy but fuck theres nothing to work with with these guys on god!!!

[mxmorel]

this is perhaps morbid but i love talking about death plans/learning about what options are available to people after their deaths. death and funerals can be incredibly expensive and i think one of the best things you can do for yourself (to ensure your wishes are taken into account) and for your loved ones (to help ease the struggle for them as they are grieving) is to have a formal death plan/legal will.

this is especially important for those of us who are queer/trans, particularly those who may have next of kin who would not respect their name/gender identity in death (i.e. deadnaming on gravestone, burying in clothing of your agab, etc.) without being legally required to do so.

i wont talk about my death plan here (idk if it would skew results but just in case) but when i texted my mom a few months ago to notify her of the plans i was setting into motion (i wanted her to be aware just in case of the off chance that i die before she or my dad do) and she was shocked that i had a plan at all, and told me that she and my dad don’t have one, which was concerning, tbh, since they are older than most parents of people my age.

a lot of people naturally don’t like to think or talk about death but it’s such an important and personal thing. i can’t and won’t force my parents to talk about it until they’re ready, but i hope this inspires you to give it some thought if you haven’t already!

oh also pls reblog the poll if you feel so inclined so as to increase the sample size!

#cw death #tw death #death #death mention tw #death mention #I hope I have tagged tws/cws well enough #if this is upsetting to you and i missed your blocked tag please let me know #I’m happy to add more cws #burial #funerals #death plans #tumblr polls #death doula #(I am not one just using the tag bc it feels relevant - i would like to be one though)

[dltk-arts]

‘The Vessel’

- “My Kin has suffered great pains before They rid Her of her very Breath… and before they Rid me of mine… Child, it is time for you to serve your purpose with the curse I embalmed upon your soul since your destined birth.” - The Foreseer

#Thesetetheredsouls #thesetetheredsoulsseries #thesetetheredsoulsart

#originalseries #artseries

#Thesetetheredsouls #TTSDL #original series #digital art #digital #artist #digital artist #series #oc #oc art #ocs

[siamesephoenixrandomideatank]

Realms Beyond Boiling Isles (Pt.1)

Seorheim, Realm of Runes

Demons and Witches of Seorheim adapted the art of Titans’ Glyphs into a set of symbols to direct magic in the long term. However, the true masters of runes are the Dwarves, or Duarwads, in their tongue.  The Dwarves are the ruling classes of Seorheim, ruled by a council of six hold-clans(The Clans ruling each of six major holds), with witches and demons serving them as ‘surface laborers’, scouts, and work those more ‘temporal’. Some of the talented witches married Duarwads of lesser noble clans, whose offsprings are called ‘Halflings’, for their magic prowess is halved to the witch’s power and strength halved to the dwarven side. Halflings became mercenaries, expendable vanguards, or underground workers and aided rebellions sometimes.

Kiquilon, Realm of Alchemists

The majority is populated by a variant of lizard people. ‘Lhongai’, Basilisks, and a variant of Witches. It’s ruled by two important figures who are both greatest allies and competitors; Emperor and Shogun/Warlord. The Lizard People’s way of life is with the concept of seven elements (Earth, Water, Air, Fire, Wood, Metal, and Aether), inkling their ways of magic. Their mastery depends on harmony between all the elements and physical-spiritual bonds inside individuals and to nature. Those who mastered all the seven-element controls became a neigh-immortal lifeform; Ryuteng. The witches learned to transfer their magic through their bile sack across the body, creating a blend of martial arts and unarmed magic. This mastery is called “Qi Magic” or “Kimyojin”, and those who control the magic in the body to balance and peak performance are called “Dha-Ong”, as they may age slower and heal themselves quickly, but still mortals. They are also known to create a substance called ‘icepowder’, which reaching enough coldness and moisture will cause an explosion, as well as a magic force-based compass.

Auwsemun, Realm of the Passed, and Umdei, Realm of Necromancy

Once a home of the earliest Witch-dominated civilizations, where its kings worshipped Titans walked among the mortals. However, after the Titans’ fallen one of the archivists promised a crown prince of that time; Neferatum, an immortality rulership after his father’s demise. However, it came with the price of eradicating all the Titan cults and replacing them with a single temple for themselves. His adopted younger brother, Auwaseme, was adopted from a nomadic tribe rumored slain by Neferatum’s grandfather, who believed the Archivists would destroy the realm and corrupt Neferatum into their pawn.

Auwaseme fled away with seven other tribes related to his kins, along with loyalists of the old kingdoms to the deserted side across the river. A few years later, Neferatum ran out of patience, poisoning his father with the Archivist’s dark magic that made him rotten alive in a minute. 

As Auwaseme built his new realm around the scattered oasis, he had a vision of the dying Titan and his ancestors in a dream. The Titan figure called herself ‘Mama Titans’, as she warned that Neferatum had captured people of the Titans’ faiths as a sacrifice for his cursed immortality, and if he succeeded, he would become Archivist in mortal flesh.

Auwaseme, gathered the warriors of six other tribes and Medjais who were loyal to the Titans and marched to the capital where he faced Neferatum, embalming himself in a pool of blood, ground bones, and Titan’s blood. The armies of Umdei, the new nation that emerged over the old realm, are smaller in number but grow stronger with each kill and consumption of dead. 

Auwanseme broke the hoard of reanimated dead through his brother, prepared to kill him with the sword of his blood uncle, and revealed its place by the vision a week before. The fight ended up with both severely injured, as Auwaseme later passed away from blood loss. He wished to be buried in a Pyramid in the town he built. Neferatum, meanwhile, could not truly go to the afterlife, but not fully godly, and turned into the savage, blood-thirsting alpha of his new breed; Nosferatu. Disfigured and unable to speak, but retain their wisdom, memory, and cunning nature, dwelling in their abandoned cities, or ruling over the vampires that survived the crusade.

Monarchs of Auwsemun after Auwanseme are buried in the same pyramid along with the first king himself. Inside the pyramid are allowed only three groups of people who may enter and leave as mortals; the high priests, the monarch in time of need, or the herald of Titans. The Pyramid holds all the wisdom of all the kings, even reaching ancestors of Auwsemun or some of the Titans. To ask for their wisdom must either be in dire need or have a worthy tribute offered.

Atlantis, the Grand Port City-State.

A circular artificial ‘island’ and its branches reaching out of the original stone construct emerged out of the water, bringing exotic beasts like elephants, zebras, horses, chickens, and doves and ‘round-eared people’ who ruled the city-state. The first lady of Atlantis recorded in Demon World history was Althemise “the feeding mother”, who claimed a throne after her father’s decease from ‘sudden sinking’ from the Mediterranean to the new realm. Althemise claimed she descended from Poseidon, a deity of the ocean that was not boiling, yet contained life. Althemise married a pirate from pre-unification Boiling Isles, giving birth to a half-witch son named Deusnos “the golden hand”. 

With her unique products from Earth; grains, livestock, fish, peacock feathers, olive, and a sample of spices from India, her city-state attracted merchants, but also pirates. Her husband, Ivoryeon, trained the locals to fight like war-hardy pirates, while Althemise’s younger brother taught them the tactics and arms of Athenians. The new navy had introduced and defended Atlantis since then.

Poseidon, part of the Olympians, became a patron god of Atlantis and was reimagined as an Ichthyocentaur with a trident-like staff and ears of horse. After a few reigns passed, the merchants took over the dynasty and dissolved it, assigning themselves to a council of guilds. One main reason Atlantis remained a loose single city while the navy turned mercenaries, the council had no firm leaders, and crimes were common because the guilds are afraid to show their disharmony and risk being attacked by outsiders.

Woodhenges’ Teat, Domain of Druidry

Being home to the witches’ variant known as Drayidans, or simply, the Woodhengers, is not only home to these tribal apex hunter-gatherers and treasure of their sole goddess; Gayaan, but also her temple and her body. Some scholars believed she was a Titan who passed away and thick woods grew on her dead. However, the tribes claim Gayaan is alive, but sacrifice herself not moving to let them reap her life and return it to her when it’s their time. They claimed in the depth of ‘heart mountain’, going deep enough can make them hear her heartbeats.

The Drayidans also forge racial alliances/oaths with the Trees-those-walk, or Entrii, in their tongue. The Entrii lived before the Drayidans, which made them servants to Entrii, in a trade of their fruits to be eaten, their wisdom to learn, and their dead bodies for woods. Meanwhile, the deceased Drayidans must given their bodies to feed the Entrii.

Drayidans rejected to form permanent settlements or let anyone do it on their domains. Their strongest material is a mixture of sap and obsidian shards burnt in the firepit, called woodsteel. They rarely trade or negotiate with outsiders, seeing themselves as children to Gayaan and her guardians from outside taints. They don’t consider themselves the same kin as witches, especially after Belos attempts to conquer their land for Titan’s blood. The war was called by them as Goldantler’s Damnation, slaying several Entrii and Drayidans, ending in stalemate or phyricc victory. 

#the owl house #toh worldbuilding #boiling isles #demon world toh #toh au #toh headcanon #toh lore expansion #headcanon worldbuilding

[merry-death]

a family friend passed away this weekend and it really has me thinking about US funerals/death culture. Like, his wife's funeral is the first funeral I remember clearly (not the first I went to though) and she had been embalmed and just looked...wrong. she was old and had cancer and had been so thin and pale, but the last time I saw her she was still so bright and warm. but her body looked like it had been plumped up somehow, her wrinkles smoothed out, and the makeup they used several shades too dark/orange. It was unsettling, and her husband seemed unhappy about it too, and now that's the last memory any of us have of her face. I know there are embalmers who do good work and some people really want it, but it is often pushed on grieving families here as the only safe way to have an open casket (or in some states, the only legal way). But it isn't always necessary. And it's also not common enough for people to have their wishes for their bodies/funerals written down, so there's often a lot of guesswork for their families about the best way to honor the deceased. One of my grandfathers had a clear plan and it was easy for us to be sure everything was how he would want it. It really helped us get onto the actual grieving instead of worrying about getting things right for him. The other had no plans, so the days after his death were filled with the stress of his kids and wife debating and arguing over the best options. It was really clear to me that the kindest thing you can do for your loved ones is have a plan. And yet, people are still so weird about talking about what they want or writing it down or anything. Like, I asked my mom some time after her dad's funeral what she wants for herself and she freaked out about it. She's in her 60s and if Dad goes first or is unavailable for some reason, I'm her next of kin and already her emergency contact on everything, so I should know that. But despite helping to plan several funerals and knowing how hard it is on a family, she still won't talk about it and she doesn't have any legal documentation of what she wants either. It's legitimately concerning for me. I hope she has another 40 years with us, but if anything happens I will be a wreck and I would rather take the guesswork out of as much as possible. My aunt and uncle are the ones organizing the funeral for our family friend, and thankfully it seems like he had pretty clear plans so they aren't just guessing. I don't really have a point, other than to say know your rights for your death and the deaths of loved ones, get a plan in place, and have it written down. I highly recommend Caitlin Doughty/Ask A Mortician on YouTube as a resource

#personal #long post #death discussion #personally i just want to be wrapped in a biodegradable shroud and put in the ground #or human compost if thats legal wherever im at when i die

[kota-stoker]

Adrian Monkshood

Human | Cleric of Myrkul | Guild Artisan

Hereditary undertaker exploiting grieving families by day and conducting shady deals by night. Partner of the Candulhallows, owner of a secret embalming patent, life-long believer in Myrkul’s return.

Meticulous, cynical, sly.

Lawful Evil aligned.

***

The sacred hand that reaches from the grave

Purple sunbursts bloom across Faerûn – Time of Troubles brought upon it death of Myrkul, and like rings on the water the news spread all over the land, causing many Myrkulytes to convert to recently ascended Cyric. But not everyone believes that what was already dead could be slain – and thus, still holding onto its veneration of the Lord of the Dead, Monkshood family (a single father and three sons) arrives in Baldur’s Gate, closer to the Myrkul devotees tending to the Cliffside cemetery in the Tumbledown area. Partnering with Candulhallows operating funeral carts in the city, Monkshoods open a funeral home, offering “the best closure possible” to The Gate’s dead (or rather their next of kin) before they can go through traditional for a walled city burial. All that’s left is to patiently wait till the family’s patron rises again.

Adrian is the fourth son in his family – the first to be born in Baldur’s Gate, named after the local beloved hero to help him blend in better. Despite his father having two more kids after him, Adrian is the only one to reach his adulthood – constant exposure to allegedly embalming chemicals didn’t do any good to his brothers, already suffering from past necromancy practices of their father deeply affecting his and his children’s health. Full-blooded and physically strong, Adrian remains the last candidate to eventually inherit “Monkshood & Sons” business (a joke of a name that never came true, but also was never changed regardless), as well as his father’s faith. The sacred hand that reaches from the grave has power over everyone – that is the first and the most important lesson Adrian learns from his old man.

The elder Monkshood practices his faith as his own father before him, and so he passes it on with all the quirks to Adrian. He also is the one to teach his son woodwork, chemistry, handling the dead – there’s plenty of work for an undertaker to do. Diligent by nature, Adrian doesn’t shirk his responsibilities, eventually matching his father’s skills in nearly every task, and even surpassing him when it comes to taking care of the clientele, to reading people and knowing when and how to press them to the family’s benefit. Deemed worthy to be a successor, Adrian earns the right to learn about the full extent of his father’s connections, and so old and losing his grip Monkshood introduces him to those he discovered in the Tumbledown, far more interesting than regular restless undead – a vampire coven, ready to cooperate.

Adrian’s father didn’t live to see his divine patron to grace Faerûn again. But under Adrian “Monkshood & Sons” flourished like never before – with novelty caskets to rival the coffins, grand viewings, new patented embalming procedure improving on his father’s techniques. With an abundance of health to spare, Adrian made it to elderly age surprisingly unaffected – his skin turned pallid and his eyes look strange, but he still has enough strength to do heavy lifting all by himself, requiring no assistance. He prefers privacy when it comes to his business – and people, generally avoiding anything related to death, are not eager to interfere. Many can’t even tell for how long Adrian had been running the funeral home singlehandedly – feels like he’s always been and will always be there.

Things change after the Second Sundering shakes Faerûn – again. For the first time in his admittedly long life Adrian senses godly presence – what was already dead indeed cannot be slain. Myrkul, alongside the rest of the Dead Three, is restored, although his powers are not quite the same. Still, he seems willing to grace those who stayed loyal to him after all these years with his blessing. After a lifetime spent without any powers beyond his strength or cunning, Adrian gets a second breath from the sense of becoming a conduit for the divine magic. In search for an opportunity to prove his devotion he the turns his eyes in the direction of the undead coven he had been dealing with for decades – as a potential tool in spreading fear of death in Baldur’s Gate, which, being preoccupied with other matters, seemed to forget that it’s inevitable.

Side notes:

Adrian is left-handed, all his workshop tools are custom made to suit his needs. He often catches his clients off guard upon offering a handshake – on top of surprising them with strength unexpected from someone of his age – as he believes it is their job to adjust to him, not the other way around.

An entire section of his lab equipment is dedicated to compounds derived from poisonous plants, including, but not limited to aconite, belladonna, dittany and mandrake. Rumor is that “Monkshood & Sons” besides embalming provides help to the clients wishing to fake their death – or make it real for someone else.

Adrian’s lasting relationship with Cazador is built on him being indispensable – he has no children of his own, nor assistants informed enough to run the business. Without him, his funeral home and notorious embalming procedure used as cover-up for the coven’s victims, the risk of being compromised might become too high – especially with Gravemakers nearby.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 early access #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #mc: Adrian #Adrian Monkshood #screenshot

[ryuzatodraws-archive]

going back to the concept of Omega eating Terzo's body (thank you anon for that request drabble) I went back and forth with this with @comp-lady and well it snowballed so good XD

what if the only honorary death a Papa can have is to be eaten by Their™️ ghouls? 

Done mostly in a ceremony or a private attendees of the Papa’s most loyal friends and worshippers. 

It grants the Papas the highest seat in Hell, some said almost next to Lucifer himself.

Tombs are said to be empty , sometimes shrines are built instead allowing people to pay respect to the previous Papas

Unfortunately this custom is slowly dying with the ghouls being passed down to the next of kin or the next Papa, Bodies are instead being entombed or embalmed. 

Now…we know what Sister Imperator did with the 3 brothers right? Their bodies paraded tour by tour. 

Usually Papa Ghoul doesn’t meddle in earthly problems like this, he stays to his lane of picking who’s going up and greeting back the ghouls who had returned to the Pit. 

But his brain set into panic mode the moment he couldn’t find Secondo in hell, he searched for many years (hell is a big place after all) and then, he found out about the whole thing from a banished ghoul. 

Papa Ghoul pays Sister a visit, threatening her about this …this disrespect that shes doing with her own sons. 

He then pays Copia’s ghouls a visit, via the tv 

Copia is confused. What channel is this? Who is this creepy looking guy? Where’s Miss Daisy?

‘’Shush!’’ Cirrus hush the Papa before all the ghouls swarms the tv to listen. 

‘’I have a task , only you can execute this. Copia, I’ll be needing your help as well’’

#Papa Ghoul #yes he has a plot kdjsaajks

[kincalling]

I'm Aesop Carl (Or Embalmer) from Identity V. I am looking for other source / kinmates. I'm 20 and would much prefer to interact with anyone who's at least 18+. I enjoy the idea of listening to other peoples memories and getting to know other kins or such from the community. Interact with this and I'll be sure to check and message you.

⚡️

#aesop carl kin #identity v kin #canon calls

[citrus--space]

Okay, something I just realized was that. Vivziepop could've avoided going to voodoo route & making his character black (even though the fandom thinks he isn't). By making Alastor have some form of connection to morticians. Because, from my current knowledge (I wanted to be one & fixated on Mortician work for 5-6 months & talked to an actual funeral director.) They used to sow the mouth & eyes of the fallen shut. Remove the organs, and fill their veins with chemicals. Granted if the vein one happened in 1920's, I doubt it. But then again, I don't know for sure. So, y'all know how in the movie Coraline, the Beldam makes the Coraline Doll & preforms ancient Mortician work on her in the beginning? I believe that Vivzie could've done something like that since if you look at Alastors Demon-deer form when talking to Husk / Fighting the loansharks in EP.5. It in some scenes kinda resembles the Beldam. Plus the Beldam worked with a doll. So it'd be plausible that Alastor could too in a similar matter. So here's my idea on the history of Alastor / His Backstory ;

Alastor, the son of two famous morticians in the 1890's Louisiana. Was a Mama's boy, his mother was always the more caring of his two parents. His father was always buried in his work of funeral directing. Al's father only really bonded with Alastor while they're embalming or preparing a casket. When Alastor was a kid he always LOVED to greet the kin of the fallen at the door. He always chatted with them & made them feel better, but his favourite part of his family's work was the act of prepping the dead to be downed. He enjoyed the smell of the decaying carcass & the feeling that got sent into him whilst sewing them shut. Just as his mother would sew shut a scratched arm on him. Along with the beautiful tune she would senranade him with as his eyes prickled as a young lad. His favourite song, “Your never fully dressed without a smile.”. And that song was the song he sang while embalming his mother. He knew that her death hit him hard. But he didn't know that her death would affect the decision of if he was going to Heaven, or Hell. But life moves on, and Alastor found his profession. In being a charming, hilarious, Radio Host. Quickly becoming a hit, a huge radio wave that brought others off balance. But the hunger from his childhood, the entertainment of controlling the dead by means of the normal dead prepping, plus a few extra details, like a deer symbol scribed in chalk on the lower back, sewing the mouth shut with a smile, and keeping the blood he exchanged from the body intern of Embalming fluid. He then use the dead skin of White tailed deer - specifically young bucks or yearlings. He started his deer-embalming escapade in the late 1920's around say 1928. He continued his current life as a Radio Host, but with the secret that he was a serial killer of course. And well Alastor made sure none of the people in his inner circle would betray him. He made sure of that by avoiding the advances of women by all cost.. Only being close with a select few. And his life was eventful, yet it was inevitable he would one day meet his fate. Which he did, on a late September evening. Being mistaken for a Buck by a hunter while skinning a yearling & injecting blood into its hide. Getting shot in the head & mauled by dogs. Only to wake up in Hell, next to an old radio station, grinning in delight..

----

That was the only article I used, and I used it to make sure that I didn't accidentally use Voodoo. If I did, I apologize . Because from my current knowledge, it's a closed practice. Actually, I lied I probably used other articles ( I can't remember them to be honest.) Also if I'm being honest I'm quite proud of that backstory I whipped up, especially since I made this at a highschool basketball game. When I started my HS Girls team just started, around 7:53, 1st qt & now it's the 4th qt. 1:31 & were losing 20 - 34 😭. Anyways enough of that, once again my only credentials for using the information about deer, & Mortician work is that 1) I'm currently fixated on deer (I have a collection of antlers :D ) 2) I'm A Midwesterner, ofc I know a lot of random shit Abt deer & 3) I used to be interested in Mortician work & being a mortician for a solid 5-6 months & spoke to a Funeral Director before.

#shitpost #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #late night thoughts #Im bored #& tired #sleep would be nice also school sucks #I was jamming out to 1920's music for awhile before my earbuds died that was fun ngl 1920's music slaps HARD #1920's music <3 #Also I'm 1000000000% taking the backstory I made and using it on my own character because I genuinely find it hella cool #just inagine THIS is the blog to flop 💀💀💀

[shoyoackerman]

(ignore the previous request I sent 😭) an-knee-ways, I’m back again with another college au hc request. May I request college student!satori? I couldn’t choose between kenma & satori at first bcs they’re my highest kins but here I am. thanks in advance. <3333

college!satori hcs

| Satori is a morning person. The first person to wake up in the apartment, energy drink for breakfast as he stares out at the sunrise by the balcony. Just as the sun begins to rise and the sky paints itself like a scene from a Studio Ghibli film. An explosion of purple, blues and yellows.

| He loves the morning, the light. Because all his life as a child growing up he had been kept at the back, in the dark.

| Bilingual? No. Trilingual? Yes! Satori speaks French and English fluently. He likes to insult everyone in French, knowing that none of them know what he’s saying. (“Tetsu you’re a fugly baguette” “did you just call me a bread!?”)

| Satori takes food science. When he first started he needed Tetsurou help because he understood nothing about the chemistry element. Was completely flabbergasted at science being involved but found it really interesting to learn about food. Likes to use his knowledge from class to annoy everyone whilst they eat (“you know that’ll kill you” “suck my dick” “well that is a source of protein!”)

| Works at the bakery down the street from their apartment where the old lady who owns the place loves Satori and his friends. Allows him to take home food that doesn’t get sold. Satori loves baking with her, it makes him feel like a child again being able to bake with a mother figure. #absentmotherthings

| On campus some people are still afraid of him and his eccentric personality, it’s not as bad as middle school and high school where people would outright point and laugh or talk behind his back. In college he is more ignored which honestly doesn’t hurt as bad, it still stings a small part of him. However there are also a lot more eccentric personalities in college that makes him fit right in. (Besides, people have more worries than society's standards of what is normal, such as midterms and exams!)

| Theatre boy Satori at your service. Absolutely in love with that class, especially since Shoyo is also in the same class as him. Will act out the entire twilight plot with him as Edward and Shoyo as Bella. The professors are sick of him. (They held a Addams Family Performance, Satori was Mortica and Shoyo played Gomez. Was the performance of the year)

| You will absolutely find him singing ‘It’s Tough to Be A God’ from El Dorado in the cafeteria. Has a whole ensemble. Actually knows the exact lines from the entire movie and will randomly recite it. (Has been written up for disrupting class)

| Psychology boy Satori to the rescue. No but he tops the class, will take one look at you and figure you out. The therapist friend that everyone goes to, only is literally a therapist. He really enjoys it, loves the critical thinking aspect and the way you learn about the human mind. Although he has great potential to be a therapist, he looks his career advisors dead in the eyes and says “No thanks, I’m going to be an embalmer” he was sent to the counsellor the next day.

| Satori and Keiji will talk about astrology and peoples mbti signs. Satori, Kenma and Takanobu are the only ones allowed near Keiji’s crystals.

| You know how there's always that one person in class who's always eating. Satori is that person. Constantly. Professors don’t say anything because he always brings them a cup of their favourite coffee.

| Satori has and continues to teach classes whenever their professor is late. Has the whole set up, his own pointer-stick in his bag just in case. And whenever the professors come in he will single them out like they’re a late student. Everyone loves Professor Tendou.

| Country music enthusiast. His ringtone is Jolene. Will purposely have his phone on the ringer and let calls ring out just so he can sing along to the song. The professors have started confiscating his phone before class. Not like that will stop him. Has a backup flip phone in his sock.

| Satori and Rintaro once hotboxed Yuji's car. Everyone came out of the apartment and saw the car smoked up with flashing led lights and music booming from inside.

| Wikipedia is his best friend. He loves his classes (most of the time) but he’s also the biggest procrastinator. Not like he does it on purpose he just gets distracted easily by other things. #adhdthings

| And so whenever he's stuck on homework and essays he goes to Wikipedia and copies what he needs and then translates it into Hindu and then into English and back into Japanese before correcting misspellings. Plagiarise is his middle name.

| Gets invited to the biggest and best parties. Every weekend he’s out, and will drag everyone with him. Including Kenma by bribing him with his famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Most of those parties end with all of them extremely hungover with no recollection of the night before. Except Rintaro who has an unfairly high alcohol tolerance and records everything. everything.

| (At the end of the year Rin will do a slideshow of every embarrassing photo and video he has of everyone. A night of chaos)

| Outrageously annoying at home and likes to play the tsunami siren on speaker to wake everyone up. And I’m return for being annoying he offers them piping hot pancakes and bacon for breakfast.

| Is the designated cook along with Shoyo. They will alternate between who cooks breakfast and who cooks dinner. Nobody else is allowed in the kitchen after Tetsu and Rintaro burned the food and the fire department was called and everyone in the building had to evacuate.

| Has nicknames for all the professors and will say it to their face and they allow it. Is definitely a favourite student but also one of their most annoying. Still all secretly love him.

+ BONUS

Satori always had plans on moving away from Japan. He didn’t have the greatest memories in Miyagi, aside from being at Shiratorizawa. He wanted to start anew, somewhere nobody knew him and wouldn’t judge him. He was tempted, really tempted, to get the cheapest plane flight to anywhere in the world when Tetsurou called him asking if he wanted to be roommates with seven other people. Best decision he had ever made.

+ BONUS PT. 2

His music is the most chaotic shit you’ll ever hear <3

+ BONUS PT. 3

his style is *mwah* immaculate

#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu #college student au #haikyuu 2022 #haikyuu college au #haikyuu headcanons #tendou headcanons #tendo satori #hinata shoyo #suna rintaro #keiji akaashi #kotaro bokuto #kuroo tetsurou #yuji terushima #kozume kenma #takanobu aone #shoyoackerman

[daenystheedreamer]

IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT<3 also my bad i think i gave the wrong order for them in my original post 😭 aikon is the sequel tbc. and absolutely i have recs some are yaoi some are regular🫶 edit lost this in my drafts for a month. i hope you are still here anon IM SORRY 😭

itoshi no anneli by ishiko, would probs be classed as BL as opposed to yaoi, its very incidentally homosexual. mostly just a sweet little short story about the creative process and connecting with people.

while being seen off by campanella by atsuki kyouyama. really great slice of life character study. warning for suicidal ideation, never featured but the main character discusses it quite frankly. it has an official english translation :)

kurosagi corpse delivery service by eiji otsuka. not yaoi but if you liked the supernatural procedural stuff and especially if you liked the gorier parts, KCDS is AMAZING!!! possibly favourite manga of all time<3 its a dark comedy about death and life and connection and also gore. warning for gore and nudity. its about five buddhist uni students starting a business (that makes no fucking money ever) where they complete the last wishes of the dead. there's karatsu who's a spiritual medium and can communicate with the deceased, sasaki who i kin and am in love with (woman of all time), numata who has divination powers and uses a dowsing rod, yata who can channel an alien through a hand puppet (named kereellis, he's a silly bastard :3) and makino the gyaru embalmer. LOVE this series so much, the dark horse translations are great especially if you love nerdy footnotes by translators. not yaoi but i guess you can yaoify it. sorry i use every oppurtunity to recc this damn manga PLEASE READ

#ask #anonymous #look if there's 2 things to take away from my blog its listen to bjork and read kurosagi corpse delivery service #yinnie

[seekdevotion]

*    𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃    :     good  to  see you  'round  these devo parts,    paisleigh  tinka    &    matthias  van  piker.    please  submit  your  account  within  twenty  -  four  hours.   elle  fanning    &    jacob  elordi  are  now  taken    !

──    (    elle fanning.  demi woman,  she / her / they.    )    recently  seen  a  raging  cascade  of  chiffon  gold  blanketing  over  vivid  greenery,  pressed  animated  corpse  overturned  against  a  threadbare  armchair,  dwam  reflections  of  insanity  irises​​​​​​​ at elmwood:    enter  PAISLEIGH ÈNNÉ TINKA.  twenty - six  years  old    &    a  virgo,  usually  observed  in  imaginary  illustrated  upon  blue  veined  eyelids,  from  soft  medley  shimmers  encasing  doll  eyes  from  soft-girl  to  soft-grunge   ;    tink  is  a  devotion  local  known  within  their  circle  as  CLEMENT  +  GEMÜTLICH,  a  perpetual  hum  of  strawberry kisses  by  nikki webster  on  salted  mouth.  something  of  the  CHIMERICAL  +  DEWY  follows,  regardless    …    something  to  do  with  dissociating  be  forward  a  frosted  nebulous  elongate  looking  glass,  perhaps    ?    strange,  what  a  FAE  can  get  up  to.  they’ve  been  heard  waxing  lyrical  about  a  dream  they  had  recently,  a  strange  tale  of  the  gentle  reminders  of  reality  sing  you  to  sleep,  their  ever-dreadful  lullaby  of  distant  chimes  of  grandfather  clocks,  every  now  and  then  bells  rattling  together  on  an  unseen  alarm  clock,  every  tree  a  different  clock  face  though  you  don’t  know  how  to  tell  time,  surrealism  and  nightmarish.  pay  no  mind  to  fanciful  star  -  gazing,  though:  rather,  mind  the  tangible.  focus  on  small  reflective  particles  speared  in  freshly  grazed  knees  exposed  to  the  elements  from  ripped  tights  from  falling  over,  stranglehold  from  chalky  candy  necklace  a  statement  piece  but  when  her  belly  rumbles  up  edible  it  is,  strawberry  infused  decorated  cones  herbs  of  delirium  thus  the  filling  something  from  the  realms,  call  her,  beep  her,  if  ya  wanna  reach  her  on  a  pink  motorola  v220  flip  phone,  bespeckled  in  foiled  glimmering  stickers  all  over  the  device  /  a  trinket  of  her  first  time  in  this  realm,  lingering  ever-so  dangerously  of  false  memories  in  07.     /     committed  to  legend  by  willow,  twenty4,  she / her / they,  awst.

──    (    jacob elordi.  cis man,  he/him.    )    recently  seen  staring  at  his  reflection  in  the  glass  of  a  washer  door  as  his  meagre  wardrobe  goes  for  a  jaunty  spin  inside  the  drum  —  looking  eerily  reminiscent  of  narcissus  and  his  pool  ,  if  narcissus  were  ambivalent  to  his  own  existence  at  best  ,  abhorrent  at  worst  at  the  fishbowl:    enter  MATTHIAS GIL VAN PIKER.  twenty  six  years  old    &    an  aquarius,  usually  observed  in  a  faded  black  cable  knit  sweater  thats  knit  has  loosened  so  substantially  with  wear  that  it's  as  if  each  thread  of  yarn  is  trying  in  earnest  to  divorce  its  former  mate    ;    matthias  is  a  devotion  local  known  within  their  circle  as  OBSERVANT  +  DEPENDABLE,  a  perpetual  hum  of  my  mans  an  undertaker  by  dinah  washington  on  salted  mouth.  something  of  the  SUBSERVIENT  +  WITHDRAWN  follows,  regardless    …    something  to  do  with  the  seventy  years  stubborn  and  perpetually  lingering  scent  of  days  wilted  lilies  and  embalming  fluid,  perhaps    ?    strange,  what  a  GHOST  can  get  up  to.  they’ve  been  heard  waxing  lyrical  about  a  dream  they  had  recently,  a  strange  tale  of  the  van  piker  family  dinner  table,  circled  by  his  long  -  dead  kin  and  laden  with  dishes  that  would  be  sure  to  turn  your  stomach  ,  if  it  were  not  already  on  your  plate.  pay  no  mind  to  fanciful  star  -  gazing,  though:  rather,  mind  the  tangible.  focus  on  the  screaming  of  cicadas  ,  so  loud  that  it  drowns  out  the  droning  of  the  weather  reporter's  tinny  voice  emitting  from  the  radio  ...   reading  a  scientific  article  all  the  way  through  (  and  again  ,  and  again  )  ,  and  still  only  understanding  half  of  it  &  slouching  perpetually  as  to  not  take  up  so  much  room.  hey  —  maybe  one  day  you'll  compress  yourself  so  thoroughly  you'll  turn  into  a  diamond.     /     committed  to  legend  by  paige,  twenty6,  she/her,  est. 

#accepted. #semi appless rp #new rp #appless rp #town rp #spn rp #oh these r MOST DELICIOUS to me...

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Ex astris scientia

"We come in peace," the captain said, descending to their planet's rocky crust. "Please, lower your weapons - this is a research vessel, and we are only explorers and scientists. We mean you no harm."

"We know," the local chieftain replied. "We have heard tell of your like, from those on other worlds. Visitors who claim to come in peace, but leave with pieces of their hosts."

They had been a plague upon the galaxy. A species of apex predators, not marked for their need to seize, to conquer - natural instincts which every creature has, from the lowliest burrowing páh to the mighty raefflin of the skies - but for their lust for knowledge. Cursed not with greed, but an unquenchable thirst. The need to understand, to dissect: to pin that páh upon their walls, or embalm countless raefllin in their vast museums of the dead.

Their research was a magnifying glass, a lens that roasted all nests underneath its glare. Their champions were men who sailed the oceans of their world in wooden boats, supping on the boiled remains of giant turtles, on the roasted breast of flightless birds; taking specimens back home, but with extinction floating in their wake.

This needs to be preserved, they'd say, clubbing a rare creature to death, packing its pelt with sawdust and cotton, storing its organs in formaldehyde. Never dreaming that it might be best preserved where it had been for centuries: a balanced population, a stable ecosystem, a lineage their visit had destroyed.

They were little better now. Word had spread of lands befouled by their cold and academic touch, sacred grounds defiled in the search for ancient artefacts, for history, as if the memory of ancestors is better kept by graverobbers than those who left them resting where they lie. If they chose to be buried in a tomb, there was no enlightenment, no sudden understanding of their ways, to be gained in forcing it open. To do so only demonstrated its absence.

This belongs in a museum, the archaeologist says, prizing a hand-carved totráena from its bracket on a wall. He speaks about belonging, as if it could belong elsewhere but here: in the shadow of the woods that held its cousins, in reach of the hands that gave it shape. This was its birthplace, its origin, its home. What did they know of home? If they could, they would encase the whole planet in glass, abandon it to suffocate into a perfect tableau for their eyes.

It belongs in that bracket, the children reply, having learnt the way of things themselves not long ago. You should know, because that's where you found it.

Prospectors would be better, the chieftain thinks. The people here had no real use for rare metals, for precious stones, for oil and gas and fossil fuels. But the explorers sought the fossils of their kin instead, the sentiment within the sediment, the far more precious memories they left behind. Those were things they needed. Those were the things that made them who they were.

The locals might have gladly knelt for conquerors, even, to pay a simple tribute to a cruel and distant government, provided they would never deign to step inside their homes, to pore over their heirlooms, to speak of heritage and beauty as they stripped it all away. But that is how the researchers would work, here as on so many other worlds, meaning as little harm as falling meteors might do.

Do you have any idea how valuable that is? another of them asks, lifting an engraved pháha from a female elder's hand, as if confiscating the same tool from an irresponsible child. It had previously been her mother's, and her mother's, and her mother's, passed down with the love that came from teaching how to use it best. From the way its handle came to fit her hand, as it had once fit theirs. The way that holding it still felt like an enduring link to those who'd come before; a line forever holding hands together, their guidance just a fingertip away.

Yes, she tells him in reply. Do you?

"Lower our weapons?"

The chieftain speaks for all of them, an antique axe in hand to punctuate his words. A scrap could damage it, could dull its rusting blade, or stain with blood the ornate patterns in its wood; all things the visitors might wish to preserve, if they managed to prize it from his still unyielding corpse. First, though, it would do far worse things to them.

"We've seen your peace," he says, his words as careful as his grip, his precious relic gleaming as he mounts it on display. "We choose the alternative."

#short story #original fiction #creative writing #original writing #sci-fi #writing