Sweet Seals For You, Always
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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todays bird
NASA
Stranger Things
Cosimo Galluzzi
if i look back, i am lost
AnasAbdin
styofa doing anything
Keni
taylor price
we're not kids anymore.
titsay
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Peter Solarz
Mike Driver
will byers stan first human second
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Jordan
seen from Costa Rica
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@fluxofthemouth
🔹 You’ve got bleached out eyes from the valley sand 🔹 And the black tar palms keep weeping your name 🔹 I couldn’t change you 🔹 Couldn’t ever try to make you see 🔹
Indie rp blog for Piter de Vries from Dune (Novel)
Written by Jackie
RULES || ABOUT || VERSES || PLAYLIST
🔹 Sun sets on the evil eye 🔹 Invisible to the Hollywood shrine🔹 Always on the hunt for a little more time🔹 Just another LA devotee🔹
Liminal Landing is a horror/survival panfandom roleplay group with a member count of 10. Join us on discord today and begin preparing for a story that runs from October 1st to mid December, 2025! The setting takes inspiration from the Backrooms, House of Leaves, and classic DOOM. Potentially, the setting also takes inspiration from whatever you want because every member is a co-host! That is to say, the roleplay setting is divided into 10 levels, and each member gets ~full creative freedom to design and host their own level. Members must be 18+ to join, and the experience is built with members 25+ and even 30+ in mind.
The story: Caught up together within an enchanted dreamworld, characters must explore a twisted and punishing labyrinth as they ride a houseboat along an indoor river. Threatened by monsters, curses, traps, and perhaps their own inner darkness, their best hope of survival is each other. They are promised that, once the houseboat reaches its destination, they get to awaken and return home. That promise is a lie.
Full Rules and Premise + Masterlist: [xxx]
If you enjoy writing fear and horror and desperation (and hurt/comfort!)...
If you thrive on being encouraging to fellow writers, and on taking active roles in creative communities...
If having group expectations based on good faith, self-management, and open communication feels right to you...
And if you feel you can commit to hosting one level and being more or less active throughout the duration of the story...
...We hope you'll reach out to this blog for a discord invite via asks or IMs, and we hope to see you soon!
Sandworm is an upcoming 18+ premium JCINK site. Focused on creating a sandbox-style roleplay space that brings together book fans and movie-goers alike. All for our shared love of Dune and writing nonsense!
Being a sandbox roleplay, there will be no character accounts or claims to fill out. Meaning multiple people will be able to play the same canons or write their own original characters. The goal is to make a space where you can write who you want, at the pace you want to write. Life comes first!
Would that interest you? Me too! Come check us out!
Are those... tears in Thursday's eyes? Yes, tears of joy, sweet, sweet, joy.
"Ha! Thank god, someone remembers the most Burninator of all time!" she practically squeals. But then she is forced to admit: "You know, I have never listened to a single Taylor Swift song. Or at least, I don't think I have. I mean, I might have and wouldn't be able to tell you unless you told me that's what it was, ahahaha. I still can't believe computers are banned, though. No Tetris! No MS Paint! No weird 3-D color changing bouncing triangle screen savers! Oh well. Guess there's always drawing tic-tac-toe in the sand."
Not quite understanding, "Oh, you're certainly not alone. The Bard is so often presented as the purview of scholars and academics that many assume her works to be stuffy, esoteric, outdated. I'm glad I gave her a chance, and I think her works are remarkable for standing the test of time as universal stories; human stories. "We are never getting back together;" who hasn't felt that before! But I gain nothing in treating this as the superior or necessary view." A cheeky smile. "Among friends, that is. I quite like to establish superiority to enemies."
Highly curious, "What is Tetris?"
"Who else out here remembers Trogdor? Please. I can't be the only one."
"Oh, yes." Without particular enthusiasm, "'Trogdor was a man... or was he a dragon man? Something something... Trooogdooor...!' and so on? Yes, I know that one well. That song was written 20,000 years ago. Its original format was lost forever with the ban on computers around 10,000 years ago, but it persisted as a summer camp song. Incredible, what sticks around and what gets lost, isn't it? By comparison, we estimate that we're missing approximately a third of the works of Shakespeare. And we only have the Taylor's Versions of Taylor Swift's early discography."
Soda Pop is an Original Character & Fandom Character Sandbox Roleplay on Jcink, hoping to give our players a satisfying roleplay experience with a welcoming, fun and a safe space to write and explore their creativity.
HOME | GUIDELINES | DISCORD
"What if I am not who you think I am?"
Piter blinks and looks at Leondas.
They're sitting on a deck attached to the house's cool tower. The cool tower was truly a selling point when Piter bought the house from the witch. You see a cool tower and you think, you know what I can live with never going into the basement because of what might be down there. Then it's the dead of winter, and you hear someone or something creeping around the main level. You find no evidence of anyone or anything with the lights on, and you just can't remember if the basement door forgetting to be locked was your doing.
What had he called the fae, just now? You're the... shoelace in my ice cream, he'd complained, almost fondly, through a cloud of smoke. The witch's garden was another selling point. And not for the vegetables.
Piter blinks and looks at Leondas. Right, so he said that, and then Leondas said, with perfect seriousness, that he might not be who Piter thinks he is, and now the response is -
"Leo?" he says. He might have patted the fae if Leondas were sitting closer, or if he valued his hand less. "Pretending I make sense is not only a gift to me... it's a gift to you."
He goes back to looking at the sunset, which is stunningly beautiful under those several layers of cynicism he can only seem to burrow under chemically. This is... nice. Sitting outside with a friend. Nice with the caveat that humans are Leondas's natural prey, and it would be dangerous to truly start to consider 'Leo' a friend. It's all kind of like...
Like trying to enjoy a delicious bowl of ice cream even though there's a shoelace in it, actually.
Tough crowd.
Continued from here://
Run. That was the only thought going through Morgaiyn’s mind as he moved swiftly through the streets, fleet footed as he could be. The guards were far behind now, caught up in a crowd. He had made a huge mistake, he realized, trying to break into one of the Baron’s coffers. There were so many rumors about of the man’s extensive wealth, that is was stupid not to try to get some for himself. After all, the Baron could no doubt spare a few coins here and there, or a discarded piece of jewelry that was never worn. It wouldn’t be missed.
However, Morgaiyn hadn’t taken into the account, the amount of security that the Baron employed to keep his wealth safe and accounted for. No, he really hadn’t. Perhaps he had initially believed that he could seduce his way to power and money, and of course more access to spice, but he had been stupid to not plan more. Damn, the spice had really addled his brain.
And now, as the blond hastily moved, constantly looking over his shoulder as he went, he stumbled through an open door without thinking, falling to his knees. Moving to get back to his feet, he realized then that he wasn’t alone. Backing against a wall, Morgaiyn locked eyes with one he had heard about only by the terror of his name. There was not a person who worked in shady dealings that did not know of this one. Spice blue eyes widening, the blond swallowed back his fear at the sight of the knives.
Piter de Vries. The formidable Mentat of the Baron Harkonnen.
“I-I’m-.” Morgaiyn stuttered nervously, instinctively flicking his long locks, hoping at the back of his mind that it might save him somehow. “I am Morgaiyn. Please, don’t hurt me. Just tell me what I can do, and I will do it. Just don’t cut me. I can give you information…”
Silently, Morgaiyn prayed to any god that might hear the desperation of a thief, a streetwalker, a lowlife addicted to spice.
@fluxofthemouth
Someone else in Piter's shoes might have invested in a kind of poker face, to keep Morgaiyn on edge, never knowing when, or what, he's won. Piter is a deeply emotional creature, inherently. He can pull off stoicism, but there's always a lot to hide, and today he just isn't feeling that kind of effort. He perks up quite visibly at the promise of information. Yes! An informant. That would be a perfect use for a gutter prince like this fellow. Piter has a lot of respect for the type of informant that can woo a target into offering up information. It remains to be seen if Morgaiyn has the skill for it, but he definitely has the looks.
Satisfied, Piter puts away the knives. Now, he actually does reach out to offer the elf a hand up.
"Information!" he says pleasantly. "You'll accept an informant's role as a job, generally, I hope...?"
Before Morgaiyn has the chance to say anything, the guards who have been chasing him finally catch up. They look unhappily surprised to see Piter, but they still have a job to do.
"Mr. de Vries," their leader nods, uncertainly. "That man broke into the treasury."
Piter's unnatural blue eyes light up with mischief, like he's just heard an amazing tidbit of gossip. He looks from Morgaiyn to the guards. "Did he now!"
There's a moment of uncomfortable silence, during which Piter noticeably fails to hand Morgaiyn over to the guards.
"I'm sorry, was that illegal or something?" Piter asks, with bored and badly-feigned innocence. "They took my brain out and put it in backwards when I was trained as a Mentat, and I'm afraid up is down for me now, morally; I really couldn't give a damn."
More silence. Likely, scared as they are of Piter, the guards anticipate consequences if they don't follow through with their pursuit of the thief.
"Is it also illegal to bite someone's throat until they die?" Piter asks. There's warning in his voice and in his eyes, and so much else. He's serving them crazy like a carousel spinning free of its central pole at an odd angle, all of the horses swapped for saddled snakes.
That seems to convince them that Piter has this under control. He's an important man, after all. God help Morgaiyn, but it's time for these guards to go.
Once they're out of sight, Piter's energy changes again, and he's merely tired and almost 40. "I fucking hate it here," he deadpans, to no one in particular.
Turning to Morgaiyn and brightening, "You said you clean up nicely, eh? Let's get you a hotel room and a bath... and a new wardrobe, and - dear me, you're slightly skeletal; some hot food, to be sure! We'll start you off on some practice scenarios, and if you can pass those I know of a job you'd be perfect for, which is wonderful because I've been waiting for the right opportunity to crack this one open for a long time."
He does need to breathe, and he does come up for air. When he continues talking (pleasantly): "Just leave whatever you stole, if you stole something, on the desk in your hotel room. I'll pay you to spy, so you won't need it. Leave it to me to sort out all that nasty business those guards were blustering about. However, I do ask you to please keep in mind that if even the tiniest ruby remains unaccounted for, pray we never find it among your things because I'll fucking feed it to you."
Just for a moment, that unsettling untethered-carousel-of-snakes energy is rolling through him, like a passing tumbleweed that's also full of knives. Then it's gone.
"So... food, clothes, bed and shower... where to first?"
"The situation is under control. Don't worry about it."
Thursday (who has just done something [probably] stupid and has gotten into trouble) to Piter! If you feel up to it! x)
@the-haunted-office
For a moment, Piter just stares at how Thursday is covered in soap suds, and how the closed laundry room door is growing sudsier around the edges by the second. He might have said something by now, but Thursday's cheerful assertion that things are fine has thrown him off.
Does she actually mean that things are fine?
Piter is plenty proud and vain, but only when he wants to be. He doesn't particularly want to show up for Thursday as a braggart; not when he's trying to collect her as a sincere ally. He's aware that because his role and reputation are brainy, it will sometimes happen where a simple attempt to help somebody comes across to them like an accusation that they must not be smart enough to handle it. Like he's decided for them that it's 'time to bring in the big guns.' And it probably doesn't help that he tries to make people feel like that on purpose sometimes when he doesn't like them. Since Thursday could be sincerely trying to tell him that she's handling this, he figures there's enough potential for leaving her feeling diminished that he should tread carefully.
On the other hand, something about Thursday's energy does feel like a kind of cry for help. It would be a perfectly reasonable social script for her to stand in front of an obvious problem she'd like help with and joke about everything being fine to save face.
He's just about to ask her if she comes from a high context culture or a low context culture when he remembers that only a fucking nerd says things like that. So he saves himself from the catastrophe of that and instead opts to hunt for more clues under the cover of banter, like a cool person:
"Well!" he says, with a smile. "I'd always thought you had a bubbly personality... but this is something else entirely!"
Still smiling, he waits to see if she'll go on to tell him just what in the world is going on, and what it is she'd like for him to do about it.
If their phone/computer announces that they need to update their software, does your muse get right on it or do they procrastinate the update for as long as possible?
(Vital information xD)
@the-haunted-office
🤔Piter IS the computer in his original setting. They surely aren't dealing with windows updates in Dune, but I can absolutely imagine that the standards for Mentat logic processes change over time. Like maybe someone makes a breakthrough in mathematics that gives a faster way to do matrix multiplication or something like that, and now all of the Mentats get to learn the new way so they can speed up their mental math. Or maybe some political move happens and another change is mostly pointless and bad. There's probably some governing board that sets the standards and updates them as needed and perhaps issues occasional proficiency tests. For planets in the Empire that aren't very competitive in the political realm & don't get a lot of resources from the Empire, there are probably a lot of unlicensed Mentats who had up to date skills at one point and never got around to renewing their license but didn't get fired from the library (etc.) for it either.
If all of that is fair to assume, Piter would have to stay up to date with any standards set by the Empire, just as a requirement of being a high profile advisor to a nobleman. If asked, he would make a show of nitpicking the changes, and also of finding new things trivial to learn. When he actually makes choices about how to perform his work tasks, he is going to approach them exactly how he wants to, pulling concepts and methods from as early as his college days, and from as late as the newest update, if he actually likes a change. So he gets right on it, but he also throws it right out the window secretly if he thinks it's a load of crap compared to how he usually does things.
Isn't it creepy and probably not ethical in any way to tell a guy how to organize his own mind and change that shit on a dime, like his own physical mind made out of organs and blood that's part of his body? People don't really see it like that. Having Mentats around to calculate things is 'normal.' You're allowed to know it, but you're not really allowed to say it (it probably won't be received well at any rate).
General Sentences, Vol. 19
(Assorted original sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)
"Is this some kind of interrogation?"
"It is nobody's business how old I am!"
"You can't save everyone."
"The situation is under control. Don't worry about it."
"You look different on TV!"
"I know who you are!"
"He talks about you all the time!"
"I don't believe we've been formally introduced?"
"Why didn't you say anything about this before?"
"I don't need any favours from you!"
"How about a cup of tea for the shock?"
"I will always be there for you when you need me."
"What if I'm not who you think I am?"
"You're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."
"My dad doesn't even like me."
"Well, if you've got a better idea, I'd like to hear it!"
"Wow! Is this yours?"
"Have dinner with me? Just the two of us?"
"Turn around so I can tie you up."
"Look me in the eye and tell me it meant nothing."
"Don't ask a question you don't want to know the answer to."
"You know this doesn't make us friends, right?"
"That's exactly the type of humiliation I'm trying to avoid!"
"Why did you marry me?"
"Don't you ever listen to me?"
"How do I know you're not bluffing?"
"Have you thought about what you're going to do when you retire?"
"Don't you dare!"
"When's your birthday?"
"Do as I say, not as I do."
"Please, just give me a chance?"
"You look handsome today!"
"I'm not the man you think I am."
"You look like you could use some company?"
"You know, I used to have a huge crush on you."
"Don't be so grumpy!"
"That's classified."
"I just wanted to thank you for all the hard work you do."
fantasy setting prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🕊️ ꒱
¹⁾ a darkened apothecary illuminated only by the light somehow being emitted by the many bottles and jars lining the walls
²⁾ the banquet hall of a nobleman’s sprawling estate, in the throes of a lavish ball attended by everyone in the townland
³⁾ at a healer’s cabin in the dead of night, overwhelmed by adrenaline and the scent of countless tinctures and remedies as they’re applied
⁴⁾ the last imperial guardpost before crossing into enemy lands
⁵⁾ a run-down inn in the middle of nowhere, half reclaimed by the woodlands around it
⁶⁾ a lake set deep into the mountains with something sinister lurking beneath the surface
⁷⁾ the first port in a new land after weeks at sea trying to get there
⁸⁾ the highest turret in the royal family’s castle on a wintery morning
⁹⁾ the war council’s planning room, the morning after a bloody defeat
¹⁰⁾ an alchemist’s workshop
¹¹⁾ the stables just before daybreak
¹²⁾ the impromptu camp that the leader of the journey had to be begged into allowing after everyone else grew exhausted from being on the road all day
¹³⁾ the army barracks before a battle
¹⁴⁾ the last altar of a dying god’s religion
¹⁵⁾ the empress’s chambers, trussed up in nothing more than silken bedsheets and the morning sunshine
¹⁶⁾ the bedside of an old mentor, right before the end
¹⁷⁾ on the wrong end of a traitor’s sword
¹⁸⁾ a beast’s underground lair, alone and unarmed
¹⁹⁾ the thick of the enemy’s encampment, shackled and unrepentant
²⁰⁾ the mage’s quarters, having seen something there’s no worldly explanation for
²¹⁾ the armoury in the late hours of the night, stinking of polish and tears
²²⁾ in the throne room of the imperial citadel with an ulterior motive
²³⁾ by the scholar’s side in the library, eager for a little more than knowledge
²⁴⁾ an alehouse in the dead countryside, hoping not to be found
²⁵⁾ the executioner’s platform seeking for just one face in the crowd
II Minor Details About The Muse– Ask Meme
How does your muse answer their phone? Do they get nervous or panic if they hear it ring? Do they answer it immediately or let it ring out? How do they greet the person on the other end?
How do they wake up in the morning? Do they jump out of bed immediately after they hear their alarm go off? Do they turn their alarm off and stay in bed a little longer? How long does it take for them to actually feel awake?
If they’re walking and they pass by a stranger who makes eye contact how do they react? Do they nod their head? Smile? Do they quickly avert their gaze?
What’s their posture like when they walk? Are they a slow, fast, or moderate walker?
If they hear a song they like what do they do? Do they tap their foot? Quietly dance? Nod their head? Etc.
Are they the type of person to hum to themselves when they are alone?
How do they react if somebody puts a plate of their favourite food in front of them? Do they gobble it up immediately? Savor it? Do that little wiggle/dance some people do when they are served their favourite food?
Are they the type to vocally go ‘Mmm’ when they eat?
If their phone/computer announces that they need to update their software, does your muse get right on it or do they procrastinate the update for as long as possible?
When they go out for a walk, are they the type of person to look up at the sky to check the clouds or the stars?
Is your muse a ‘Hey! Look at the moon!’ type of person?
Do they know how to whistle? If so, what type of whistle do they make? A loud one? A soft and airy one? Do they inhale or exhale to whistle?
If it’s a hot day, how do they keep themselves cool?
If it’s a cold day, how do they keep themselves warm?
If a group of strangers happens to pass their way and your muse hears them laughing amongst themselves, if your muse the type of person to instantly think those strangers are laughing at them or does your muse ignore it and rationalize with themself that those strangers are probably not laughing at you but something else?
Are they a fast or slow talker? Do they tend to stutter? Are their words clear and crisp when they speak?
When they tell a story, do they tell a story in a straightforward sort of way or does the story end up getting derailed with other, minute details?
Which of their five senses are the strongest? For example, are they usually the first person to smell something rotten? Are they the first person to see something across the street? Etc.
Do they panic when the cashier moves onto the next person behind them in the queue and your muse is still busy putting their change away?
What sort of unnecessary noises do they make?
What little superstitions do they carry out?
How do they hug?
What is their body language like when they talk to somebody? Are they the type of person to stand close to the other? Do they keep eye contact? Are they the type to touch the other on the shoulder or arm?
How do they react when they see something cute, like a cute animal or something?
Are they comfortable cursing? Do they do it under their breath or outloud?
Do they often fuss with their hair? Clothes? Makeup?
How long can they hold their breath?
Do they listen to music when they’re in a car or when they take the bus/train/etc? If so, are they the type of person to imagine themselves in some sort of music video or trailer as they listen to their music? Do they choose songs that match their mood that day?
Can your muse sleep if they know their room is untidy?
How do they talk to small kids? Is their tone demeaning? Do they go down to their level? Do they feel at ease?
Do they bite their ice cream or lick? Do they eat the ice cream from the top or bite the underside of the cone?
Are they good at telling jokes? Do they end up laughing before the punchline?
Is it easy for them to get engrossed in a book? Do they end up getting distracted by other things?
What do they do with freshly laundered clothes? Are they the type of person to press their face against them? Do they immediately fold them and keep them in a drawer? Do they leave them in a pile or in a basket and fold them little by little? Do they stuff them messily into a drawer or closet?
i polish up real nice. @morgaiyn-the-golden
To most, Piter de Vries is a detestable figure. He is the Baron's sulking advisor. A sinister arcanist. A wicked little man, and a worthy entry in any local mother's list of nasty creatures to scare her children with in an attempt to teach the dangers of wandering too far from home unsupervised. His pure violet eyes only make it easier for him to be shunned in this way. Deserved as it may be, a reputation like this can be a hinderance; a point of shame, even. But most of the time, Piter is less concerned with what it means or what it says about him, and more concerned with how easily and practically he can slip into his assigned (or co-created, perhaps) persona like sturdy, reliable armor. A nice barrier between himself and the rest of the world.
It's a barrier he was counting on when he chased a beggar out of a doorway, almost idly, drawing two long knives and an expression of glassy intent to kill.
It all started out predictably enough. Piter issued his challenge, the beggar scurried away, tripping and falling in his haste to escape, and the doorway (belonging to an upscale district of the capital city) was thus rescued. Piter likes the feel of power, ill-gained though his may be. He was going to press the issue of the beggar's presence in this district at all, stalking forward with a hunter's march, a show of cold steel in each hand.
But the beggar didn't get up and continue running. The man (or is he some kind of elf, with pointed ears like that?) only arranged his hair just so and said that he polishes up nice.
It stops Piter in his tracks. As if a cliff had suddenly opened between them. For one thing, it's not part of the usual pattern at all for a wretched thing like Piter to be invited into any equation of desire. For another, Piter knows all too well what it is to be used for his mind. It leaves him with some basic foundation for understanding what being used for one's body might be like. And that leaves a sour taste.
He takes a moment or so, just a beat, to process.
He could take it as a compliment, to be acknowledged as a possibly sensual being, as being worth interest or pursuit. He does not. Even accounting for middle age and that constant scowl, his features are pretty; pretty where they should have been handsome, by the standard account of what a man should be. He doesn't fit an expected mold, and the last-ditch flattery of some beggar is not the place to look if he wants esteem-saving validation (which he certainly wasn't looking for on a dull and even annoying trip to the tailor's). Besides, he gets along quite well without bothering with trying to somehow affix that particular dimension to his life. So, no, the beggar's efforts do not land like a compliment. More like a light slap with a wet towel. Like, what even. Where did that come from.
And as for the matter of... Piter just doesn't like to see it. People should resist being used. He doesn't, so 'people' should. Besides. The Baron of this place has disgusting tastes and habits. It should be the goal of no one to catch his eye, and it could be dangerous to stand out. Piter doesn't make it a project to feel bad for people or protect anyone, but if he was going to toy with an idea of acknowledging or even having any humanity, that might be where he'd start. And Piter hates his boss, so he can glean some sense of doing good in the world by keeping nice things, pretty things, out of the man's greedy, ring-bedecked hands. Certainly, if Piter were to ever have something the nobleman wanted, that morsel wouldn't belong to Piter for long. Does the beggar even know who he's talking to? What's at stake, in that regard?
Piter lowers his knives and walks purposefully towards the beggar. If there is a chasm between them, it no longer impedes him to walk across the air. The beggar's claim was quite true, Piter can see, as he comes closer and studies him properly. A beautiful face like that wouldn't be out of place on a marble statue. Give the fellow a shower and some clean, flattering clothes, and he could easily be passed off as some woodland prince.
Piter kneels down and moves his face close to the beggar's delicate pointed ear. The gesture is supposed to be intimate, even as it's supposed to be a cold, withholding mockery of intimacy. Because what he says is:
"If you have something to say, love, you'd better start with your name and one good reason why I should hear you out."
He draws away quickly and stands there, pointedly not offering to help the beggar to his feet. The elf will surely be taller, standing, than Piter's five-foot-nothing, and he can go ahead and get his princely face there on his own. Piter keeps his knives lowered, but he does not put them away.
He likes that the fellow didn't cave to being challenged, he supposes. He likes that the fellow tried to bargain his way out. That flouncy thing he did with his stupid golden hair isn't really a kind of currency Piter collects, but... perhaps the elf will have something more interesting to say if given a second chance.
Authored by the Author 😜👍
Selective - Mutuals Only - Mun is 30+ - Prefer to rp with those 25+, but may make exceptions - Open to all crossovers, canons, OCs, and self-inserts - Multifandom, Multimuse, and Multiship!
PINNED POST - MUSES - RULES
A horror/comedy blog that is heavily inspired by The Stanley Parable and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, as well as other works that have stricken my fancy over the years.
Most of what you'll find here is silliness and satire seasoned with elements of horror. But other themes seasoned throughout are death, found family, the paranormal & supernatural, the power of choice, breaking out of your narrative, and sometimes breaking THE narrative. No one is ever bound to the path set before them - you always have a choice, even though the choice might not be clear or obvious. Sometimes you have to carve out the path yourself, brutally, even violently, but as the great mathematician Ian Malcolm once said, “Life, uh, finds a way.”
Character art commissioned from @potato-lord-but-not Promo banner created by @cometcalloway Thank you both so much! 💞
So I'm joining this beginner friendly project where everybody makes classic DOOM levels together [xxx] can I interest anyone in trying out my other cool hobby? 👀
Thursday has sent Piter a basket of fruit from Earth with labels for what each one is called!
A note reads:
Every good villain knows how to pick up an apple as he's walking out of a room after giving an ominous message, chuckle creepily, and take a big crunching bite out of it. Practice lots! Hehehe.
- Thursday
@the-haunted-office
Oh! Piter is from a culture where everyone is always trying to poison each other to influence politics (which he is very much involved with, working closely with a nobleman).
He loves gifts, though. This one seems to be teasing him somewhat, but he is generally a disliked figure. Usually he simply doesn't get gifts at all.
He doesn't genuinely think Thursday would poison him... but can he be sure of this with anybody? Does it keep him alive better, to make exceptions or to keep a smiling and respectful distance, just to be sure? Can he be sure it's even from Thursday?
He settles the dilemma by fondly preserving the fruits in blocks of resin. He hasn't seen some of them, and they are curious to him.
When Vladimir wants him later that week for a quick meeting about a new policy that will affect their process for vetting spies, he remembers Thursday's note and suddenly finds himself curious. He brings the closest thing he can find to an apple and dutifully copies the routine as he leaves, as a social experiment. Normally he doesn't like to eat in front of Vladimir, assigning himself an unspoken rule that may be correct, that it would challenge the man on some level. The rule to eat after the leader as a sign of intending no threat is good enough for wolves. But Thursday must have included the apple for a reason, and she must know what she's doing!
Vladimir experiences Piter as never quite understanding why he does the things that he does. This unnerves him. There is enough information in that man to send the whole Barony in pieces if he cracked the right way. Not to mention the chilling hunch approaching certainty that somewhere, swirling around in his strange set of motivations, is a rather strong wish for Vladimir himself to be dead.
So Vladimir looks at Piter, and Piter looks at Vladimir, and if eyes are windows to the soul it's curtains drawn in both directions and blank disconnection. The crunch of Piter eating the fruit is oddly loud.
It's pretty glorious, actually.
