SOMEONE DRAW ANGRY GNOME ASTARION N O W 😫

Something 2 consider

"This person has a secret onlyfans!" "This artist does NSFW commissions!" "This author writes porn on the side!" I cannot begin to tell you how swag and awesome that is.

Me: *passing by Caroline and hands her one of the Horseradishes I happen to be carrying atm*

Caroline, for some reason:

. . . how the flip am I supposed to respond to that.

Hat mouse deserves nothing but the best and we should NOT impede on his business practices. He deserves the extra gold yes I will die on this hill

inflation hitting hard in the valley

I'm back 😈

Here's chapter one! The prologue has been heavily edited, up to chapter five lightly edited. So please be nice with all the grammatical errors if you find them! (Also feel free to point them out; I've obviously missed them as of this far lol, much appreciated!) Thinking of maybe doing a character post regarding the main characters you meet here, Oryn and May.

tw: mentions of death and funerals/burial, grief, blood

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Our dearest Oryn,

Our faith is strong. Knowing it’s unorthodox means nothing; our souls don’t fear the plaguing nags of Chaos any longer. You can’t harbor any doubts as to where we will go once our souls leave our bodies: know they will all find their homes with the Gods. You needn’t waste your breath praying for us.

Knowing you, this cabin will soon find itself empty. The home we built together will be barren. It’s okay—you can go. We trust you. But remember who you are. Remember who we raised you to be. Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, remember what we taught you. You’re too smart for the world, so be prepared for the way they’ll treat you. It won’t be kind. But don’t let that discourage you. Know that here, in the forest, there is always our home waiting for you to return. Let it be your haven.

There are no others like you. You know what the world does to the things it’s never seen. Don’t go looking for answers in places where none will be found, even when it all becomes too enticing. That lure, that pull at your soul, it’s Natural Chaos slowly wrapping you in its snare. Don’t let it.

You’ve been loved, and in turn loved us. If you’re going to take anything into the world with you, let it be that.

Maureen, Elisa, Starla

Ch. 1

It seemed like mere moments, yet the two of them sat there for hours. As the sun bathed the sky in its hues of oranges and reds and purples and pinks, they sat in front of the three fresh graves in silence. Oryn turned the unlit torch over in their hands. The forest wasn’t mourning; it was empty. The life that the three of them had built here didn’t stop with Oryn or what they gave May; they kept the forest here full of purpose. Without them, it was like every living being knew that Oryn wouldn’t stay, so they didn’t need to, either. Once they left, they’d have nothing to protect anymore.

May wanted to give Oryn all the time they needed but didn’t know how time worked for them. She didn’t know how time worked for any of them; everything she seemed to learn about the three women they were about to bury only unearthed more questions that she never had the nerve to ask.

As the sun made its final dip over the horizon, Oryn stood, lighting the torch. May didn’t have the chance to stand before they dropped it in the first grave—Maureen’s.

The flames roared to life, like they knew they were releasing a soul to the Waters and Winds. Lighting two more torches, Elisa and Starla joined her.

May shuffled where she stood, clearing her throat. “Did they want us to perform any… rites? Or say any prayers?”

Oryn took their time to respond, making sure May understood their conviction. As a solitary tear ran down their cheek, they barked, “No.”

“You need time,” May nodded.

“No,” Oryn said. “Let them burn and fill in the graves. Then, we go.”

They stood their long after dusk, letting the flames turn to ash before filling the graves they sat in. Amongst the flowers and herbs and fruit trees would be three women who defiled every god in the name of building a home.

The silence surrounding them wasn’t one that bode dread; it was like the subtle breath of your lover lying next to you as you slept. The forest was letting them sleep in peace.

As May untied her horse from the post near the hut that was both Oryn’s home and prison, she could hear the wood sigh with relief.

They took their time leaving the forest, knowing they wouldn’t be back any time soon. The footpaths seemed to bleed into the plant life surrounding them, slowly rotting the roots and bushes into dust. It was a slow decay, the trees slowly dropping their leaves and petrifying within the few hours of travel it took for them to reach the forests’ edge.

“You should know,” Oryn said, clearing their throat as the steed took its’ final step from the forest into the field, “I don’t sleep well.”

As the crackle of the final trees solidifying rang behind them, May turned over her shoulder. “And by that you mean?”

“I talk sometimes,” they started, “and other times I’ve broken a few things.”

“In your sleep?” May asked, Oryn nodding a bit. “Should be fine. You’ll be on the other end of the manor so I’m sure it’ll be no bother. And there’s not much in the room to break, anyway. I’ll let the guards know not to worry if they hear you mumbling.”

“Guards?”

“Just a few,” May started. “They patrol the manor at night. Since I started commanding the New Guard…” she trailed off, her jaw tightening. “It’s just better to be safe.”

Oryn nodded, taking the two flasks from the small bag they carried. “We should drink these before we make it into town,” they said, reaching their worn hand over May’s shoulder and handing her one.

May slowed their horse, coming to a stop on the path in the lush field. Here, all the living things were normal, singing and chirping and fleeting from one patch of grass to another. She took the flask, holding it up to the moon to see the cloudy brown liquid inside. Taking a deep breath, she smelt something that took her back to the puddles of blood staining the manor’s floor.

Her hands started to shake, the brass ring she wore clinking against the flask. “How many times can someone take this?” she struggled, her throat and tongue contorting as each word barely made it from her mouth.

Oryn sighed, running a hand through their braids. “I know,” they said, downing their own concoction and gagging on the aftertaste. “It’s safe. It won’t break what you’ve built here.”

May sat up straighter, her free hand tightening around the reigns. “You know?”

“I know they gave this to you before,” Oryn stated, “and I know it worked. Drink it again and it’ll work now, too.”

May hesitated.

“I’m Oryn,” they started, their voice flowing freely and with a quality anyone would strain to hear. They starting listing prices for goods they didn’t know anything about, naming duchy’s they didn’t know existed and comparing them to men they’ve never heard of.

May wasn’t concerned if it would work. The hair stood on the back of her neck as the thoughts of the broken bottle and pounding feet ran through her mind; the gold sitting in the cove dug underneath the stairs in the manor by her grandfather. There were things worth killing over.

She put the flask to her lips, letting the taste of tar slide down the back of her throat.

“Good!” Oryn chuckled, a low hum droning in May’s ear. She gagged on the taste and dropped the flask, Oryn reaching around her to tug the reigns. “It’s sealed now. But you know that already.”

-

The cracking of wood rendering itself to splinters rang down the hall, sending another shiver down Alec’s spine. He turned to his lieutenant, looking up at him the way small boys do.

“Dutchess said not to worry,” he started, a yawn creeping from the back of his throat. “Besides,” he sighed, “we have to stay alert for real threats.”

Glass shattered, followed by a metallic grating that could only be a nail ripping itself across the stone walls. A deep hum started creeping its way up the base of Alec’s neck.

“But, sir,” he said, his brows furrowing. “Somethings not right.”

His lieutenant rubbed his temples before conceding, nodding at Alec and starting down the hall towards Oryn’s bedchambers. Alec followed in his wake, his falchion gripped the way he was taught.

Reaching the door, Alec stepped forward when he was gestured to and slowly grabbed the knob. The soft click as he slowly started to turn the handle made a bead of sweat start dripping down his back, the low drone of humming building pressure in the back of his skull. But, after a point, the handle wouldn’t budge.

“Locked,” he mumbled to himself, turning back to his superior. “We shou—”

Alec was flung back down the hall, the shreds of door shielding his front half from whatever came barreling down onto his Lieutenant. He couldn’t see it, but Alec heard the snapping and creaking of flesh tearing from bone mixed with the screams and pleas of his superior, which were cut short by a quick pop of his head. His gray brain matter hit the wood Alec was shrouding behind.

There were footsteps hitting the ground immediately heard down the hall, quickly running to the source of the commotion. As Alec trembled and tried to remember how to breathe, another man’s hand was yanking him up from the ground and pulling him back down the hall.

The beast was of no shape that any of them had ever seen. In a matter of moments, more guards were thrown back against the walls, the demon’s shrieking echoing off the stone. If anyone in the manor happened to still be asleep, they weren’t now.

As one guard after another went with spear after falchion, their meaningless cuts and stabs were rendered useless. As the thick, opaque blood started seeping from the gashes, the skin would mend itself, transforming itself into something new.

The hulking mass of meat and bone would grind, creak, and snap as its limbs changed, its agonizing cries of pain accompanying the transformations. The skin would contort itself, stretching and thinning to contain everything within.

May came barreling from her quarters, untied robes messily hanging over her old nightwear, sword brandished and glowing in the dim light. With a look of determination on her face—the one her men always looked to—she barked out an order and shouted the command calling the bulk of the guard to her back. As the echo of May’s voice started bouncing off the cold walls, a rush of wind flew through an open parapet, the torches amongst the walls hissing into darkness. The soft sigh of relief amongst the darkness turned into a quiet sobbing.

“I’ve…” there was a soft shuffling of skin on stone, a hiccup of a cry emanating down the hall.

handing you all a quick silly thing 🥺

Screaming crying and throwing up this man deserved BETTER 😭

One thing that originally struck me as odd was how young Finnick acted in CF and MJ whenever he was being authentic, considering he was 24, as in seven whole years older than Katniss and Peeta. Then I realized that the reason he was still acting like a teen, basically, was because he had probably gotten stuck mentally at the age of 15-16, when he first started getting trafficked by Snow. He was still a child when he was pimped out, and since then he had very little time or opportunity to be real, perhaps some stolen days with Annie and Mags. Aside from that, his life was hardly his own. His trauma always kept him trapped in adolescence.

How they met

(Mr. Qi used to be a farmer theory is used)

The eclipse today

Pc: my coworker lol