Im Very Normal About Him

Definitley worth keeping up with this one !!!

Chapter 1 - A Cursed Arrival

still a draft - dm me if you wanna talk about it, I'd love nothing more!!

possible triggers ahead

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Nettlos was a quaint village as magical as the next. Its wooden cottages and winding cobblestone roads were nestled between a forest and a mountain range. It was almost true that the streets and houses themselves exuded an unassuming charm, with its simple way of life and humble inhabitants. Most villagers would never dream of leaving to seek adventure, nor to bring about any sort of change to their perfectly routine lifestyle. In fact, nothing worth writing about had happened in around 120 years, since the last appearance of the Rothaaring constellation.

On this particular night, the cat constellation’s red eye shone brighter than the moon. Not a soul dared utter a word about the overhead demon. Windows bolted shut. Each door locked. Thieves afraid of being caught. Guards wary for their lives. Mothers gripped their children tight while fathers took stock of their belongings and prepared for the worst. All was still, not a single body dared roam the village streets under the intense red aura emanating above.

In one of the modest huts lining the quiet roads, Noka gripped her husband Ekel’s hand tightly. Why did today have to be the day the red-eyed beast shows its face? What cruel joke were the gods playing on her? Her heart tried breaking free of her chest. Her whiskers twitched as she sensed a shift in the air. She was powerless to stop it, her water had already broken. Her second born was doomed.

To be born under Rothaaring’s influence was to be cursed. Parents would often rather abandon their newborn in the cold night than let it suffer the life strewn with hardships that surely awaited it. It was a courtesy. After all, who would befriend the child knowing the stars themselves had conspired against it?

Ekel tried to stay strong. His wife needed him to be present. His palm moved gently against Noka’s soft brown fur. He cooed over her, whispering words of encouragement in what he knew to be her most trying time. Placing his forehead against hers, he silently prayed the gods keep the demon away from this otherwise pure moment. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, but dared not surrender to fear. His sheer desperation was all that kept his hopes alive.

●

Ekel genuinely believed he was a lucky man. He had managed to build a good life for himself, even finding the woman of his dreams. Her beauty was beyond compare in his eyes. Her cinnamon fur shimmered in the light, teasingly playing with the delicate flecks of white scattered through it like markings only he was meant to discover. Her deep umber eyes spoke of forbidden secrets hidden in the exotic lands she had travelled. Even as she gave birth, Noka maintained her position as the pinnacle of creation. She had been perfectly crafted by the gods solely for his possession.

Having seen the beauty of Catfolk in a painting he acquired when he was not yet a man, he sought to marry into their culture. He left his village at fifteen years of age, determined to turn his fantasy into reality. The whole village cheered him on, jokes made at his expense chasing him as he left.

The man obsessed with cats.

                        He’s only looking for a pet.

                                    He’ll never feel the touch of a real woman.

            His parents must be proud.

                        Imagine raising a weirdo like that.

                                    Why couldn’t he just find a regular wife?

And now, back at his childhood home left behind by his parents, he begged for good fortune to look upon him and his gifts once more. His wife had already given birth to an unnervingly perfect half-human Catfolk daughter in Mei, and he hoped to grow old surrounded by the otherworldly beauty he had spent his life longing for.

●

A sharp shriek pierced through the silence of that red night. Ekel was brought back to reality as he felt Noka’s grip tighten, her unsheathed claws digging into the back of his right hand, drawing blood. Her pants grew laboured, her eyes filled with distress. The pain was not dissimilar to having her insides being ripped to shreds. She couldn’t speak, her mouth opened and shut but no words would come out. She could only produce guttural growls and pained whimpers, the smell of blood and fear filling the air. The air scorched her dried throat, and she could almost taste the end of this colossal task approaching.

The wailing of a crying baby replaced Noka’s screams. Noka had birthed a healthy baby boy – a miracle, considering the circumstances. Dizzied from exhaustion, her head fell flat onto the bed she lay upon, her neck giving under the weight, her eyes pulling themselves shut. Noka whispered, “hold on to him for me,” her voice strained and weak. She just needed a few moments of rest after this particularly draining birth, which was far more difficult than her last one.

Cradling his pride softly in his arms, Ekel beckoned Mei into the room to meet her new brother. He rocked and bounced until the walls stopped echoing the child’s piercing cries. Stopping for a second, Ekel brought the child down to Mei’s eye level so that they may get acquainted. Her eyes sparkled with excitement when she saw him. The boy’s white fur separated into patches, and he was smaller and meeker than Mei was at birth. His head was even disproportionately small for his ears, but she’d still swear that he was the cutest thing she had ever seen in her five years. Ekel thought to himself “Thank the gods your lot aren’t born in litters. Otherwise, you’d be the runt of the bunch, huh?”

Mei reached out to touch her brother’s hand and her already wide eyes grew even larger when he grabbed hold of her finger. Her mouth dangling in awe, she gasped and squealed, her elation reaching fever pitch. Ekel chuckled softly and felt his heart well with pride as he watched his children interact. He couldn’t help but imagine that Mei would make a great older sister, and probably a strong mother to a lucky man in the future. A small pang of jealousy shot through Ekel’s gut at the thought of another man being the recipient of Mei’s love. All was well and, for just the briefest of moments, thoughts of the Rothaaring had completely slipped Ekel’s mind.

The boy’s large ear twitched suddenly, and he quickly let go of Mei’s finger. His arms thrashed. His cries resumed, with a desperation that seemed unnatural for a newborn. Alas, he was too young to understand what he had heard, but the severity was instinctual. Mei bolted away, her head tilting slightly downward, her golden eyes trained on her brother. Ekel bolted up and resumed his lulling bounce, trying to hush the child for fear the ruckus would wake his resting wife. His newborn son kept stretching his back and tilting sideways towards Noka. Ekel stopped his motion as it was all he could do to not drop the baby. All the commotion caused meant that neither Ekel nor Mei paid any attention to Noka, and thus neither of them could have noticed.

Mere seconds before the child had started fussing, Noka’s breathing had started to slow. She lay still, her head resting on her pillow as she waited for the dizziness to subside. Her chest barely moved as her shallow breaths continued to grow further apart from one another. In her dreamlike state, she could still make out the child’s coos and Mei’s sweet gasps of delight. She could still smell her scent on the child and could track Ekel’s slight peaceful sway. A soft smile spread across her lips for just a moment as she imagined the serene image of her family welcoming her newborn son. A smooth tranquillity started spreading from her chest, and as she tried to open her mouth to call to her family, she faltered. For just a couple of seconds, she lingered in the room before passing on, her heart’s final beat longing for her son.

●

The newborn’s cries had finally subsided, although it still seemed stressed. Ekel couldn’t understand what could have set his son off so quickly, but he was relieved to see that Noka managed to sleep through the crying.

“Noka managed to sleep-?” His own inner voice trailed off, disbelieving the thought as it occurred. He moved towards her and noticed the boy had stopped swaying about and pulled towards his mother.  The air didn’t feel right to Ekel. He could feel the shifts almost crawl up his skin. The closer he got to his wife, the deeper his gut fell.

“She’s not moving.”

His inner voice didn’t trail off then.

“Is she even breathing?”

“Why isn’t she moving?”

“What happened?”

“How didn’t I see it?”

The questions almost overlapped in his head. His thoughts moving too quickly for him to follow.

“Shippai,” he murmured, barely a whisper. “Shippai! Shippai! Shippai! Shippai!” His voice had started to grow louder with every mention of the word. He looked down at his newborn son and cursed him with one of the only words he had picked up from Noka, failure. His son had caused this. This wasn’t a miracle; this was the curse the gods had bestowed on him for daring to chase his dream. What else could be expected from the Rothaaring’s apparition in the sky on that very night? Shippai was a name that befit his greatest failure and so, the boy’s name had been decided.

●

Although Mei didn’t know what that word meant, she had heard it some months before. She was playing in the front garden when she heard a loud clatter and her mother screaming, “shippai!” She peeked inside through a small hole in between the wooden door’s planks that would usually serve as her spy-hole to watch over the village. The pot had spilled all over the floor and Noka was holding her hand in pain, almost using that word as a mantra. Mei watched, cautious not to make a sound, as her mother kept muttering to herself and started cleaning up, slamming everything as she moved it around. Suddenly, Noka turned to face the door, and started marching towards it. Mei fell over backwards in surprise and her mother instinctively picked up her pace to check on her.

After checking that Mei hadn’t hurt herself, Noka asked her to come help her clean up the mess inside. Mei was still afraid of her mother’s outburst and noticed that her eyes were still a half-squint, and her ears hadn’t yet straightened. This was not the right time to ask, but Noka picked up on her five-year-old daughter’s not-so-subtle stares.

“What is it?” She didn’t mean to snap, and she made a mental note to herself to calm down, but she could still feel her hand throbbing in pain.

Mei got flustered and looked around nervously. She had to muster up the courage before she looked up to her mother and asked, “what’s a shippai?”

Noka’s eyes widened, and her ears fell flat against her head. “That’s a very heavy word.” She said, chuckling nervously, “I have to carry it on from your grandfather, but it hurts my voice when I use it. Promise mummy you’ll never say it again.”

“It’s… heavy?” Mei’s head tilted and her brow furrowed. The word didn’t feel heavy when she said it.

“Yes, child.” Noka crouched to meet Mei’s eye level and held her hands tenderly. “And the more you use it, the worse it hurts. Mommy made a mistake and used the word, but you cannot repeat it, understand?”

●

Noka’s outburst when she lost her temper on that day could not compare in the slightest with the rage Ekel was showing. Her father’s face was on the verge of turning purple, veins pulsing in both his neck and temple. He was forgetting to breathe in his compulsion to release his fury in a hurl of curses toward his own son. Mei’s tail hung low, and she instinctively crouched down into foetal position, tears welling in her eyes. What could her newborn brother do that could cause this? She shut her eyes and folded her ears against her head, reaching up to hold them shut. Maybe she was wrong to think she’d have fun with her little brother.

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taglist: @glbettwrites @keter-kan (text me to join this super exclusive club :D)

im like if a girl was {undefined variable}. im like if a girl was [fragment missing]. im like if a girl was (editor’s note: the author’s invocation of the word “girl” in this context is idiosyncratic, perhaps metaphorical) im like if a girl was im like if a girl draft deleted! im like if a girl You have reached your free article limit! Subscribe now to continue reading. im like if a girl was [THREAD LOCKED] im like if a girl (ENDING EXPLAINED!) im like if a girl Unusual activity detected, please highlight all the pictures of bicycles. im like if a girl I don’t respond to prompts that could be deemed offensive, and so I am unable to carry out the request. im-like-if-a-girldeactivated03092023. im like if a girl we are unable to take your call at the minute. im like if a girl isn’t registered under that name. im like if a girl could give you her date of birth. im like if a girl oh yes we have you under […]. im like if a girl LOST CONNECTION

Me, unfortunately 🥲

most unstable girl you know: i need to get a masters degree

Back with chapter five!! Things are starting to pick up now 😈 please feel free to leave any and all feedback!!!

tw: fighting, bodily horror, mentions of death, war

Ch. 5

The air in the room was thick with anticipation. The humidity was rising, heavy breaths hanging on every crevice. As the door clicked shut behind the last soldier, May cleared her throat and rose from her seat. Her men followed suit, standing straight with their hands behind their backs, eyes straight ahead: alert, at attention.

May raised her hands and subtly relaxed her wrists, allowing her men to sit. May remained standing at the head of the table, solid chair sitting crooked behind her. To her left sat Oryn, starring directly ahead, eyes fixated on a random point in the table. Next to them sat Alec, blushing and trying his hardest to keep his composure at being invited to such an exclusive meeting. To May’s right sat the head of her personal guard, Lieutenant Demetrius.

“Thank you,” May started. Oryn—through quick glances—was making eye contact with each soldier around the table, intentionally or not. “I have several things I must get off my chest this evening, all of which are meant to benefit you—all of you—in the long run. There may be outrage and there may be those who would rather walk away in peace. Either is fine with me; your servitude is a gift that you may revoke at any time.” She looked towards Oryn, who’s unhooded figure looked more ethereal in the waning sunlight, skin seeming to sag in certain places and be pulled taught in others.

“The skirmishes between us and our fellow countrymen must come to an end.” May’s eyes scanned the room, searching for the first sign of upheaval from her men. Not one of them stirred.

She folded her hands on the table as she continued, swallowing a lump forming in her throat. “It is with great sadness that I report to you all the death of our beloved High Councilor of Ilucia,

The very air in the room became stagnant, the unsteadiness rolling through the room like a wave. Each man around the table had a look of distant mourning—a mask to disguise their fear.

The guard’s words were sharp as he spoke, “Tt was Giardin.”

The small crowd murmured, more men agreeing silently with each passing second.

May sighed, sitting up straighter in her seat. She knew the accusations would come, but not this quickly. “I’ve already considered him the cause, but it was unfounded upon further inspection.”

The loud grumble they gave in dissent reminded May of their loyalty to her and how fickle a thing it was.

“The border disputes have never been an act of unperturbed violence; we marched in fields, we followed oaths, and both ourselves and Giardin’s men have carried the Crown Banner into every battle fought. The disgusting act of murder upon our Holy Councilor does not spell anything close to the Lord who, may I mind you, has done nothing but fight with honor.” May looked from one man to the next, her conviction unwavering.

The silence was heavy.

There was a soft shuffle near the other end of the table before a young man spoke, “Honor?” His breaths were labored, his shirking eyes never daring to make eye contact with May’s own. “That scum… Has fought with honor?” His crude laugh echoed in the suddenly cold office.

May’s jaw tightened as she stood from her seat, the young man doing the same.

“The man kills your kin—has been trying to stake his claim in what’s belonged to your family for more generations than his own has walked the sodden dirt he calls his own duchy… That man is far from honorable, my Lady.”

His statements strengthened the men’s resolve, their eyes becoming certain in their own convictions. May ran her fingers through her cropped hair, taking a step away from the table to get a better look at her men.

She looked at Oryn, then at Demetrius. He nodded, knowing what would come next.

The fire was powerful behind her, roaring in the mantle as it cast dramatic shadows upon the Duchess. Her eyes were hard, yet her voice was on the edge of wavering. The weight of their lives was behind her, supporting her, supporting Ilucia. Without them backing her, what was she?

“I’m ending the dispute.”

The slack jaws and shocked faces were no surprise. This war had been funding them for much longer than May would like to admit.

“But—”

May held up her hand in protest, the guard’s mouth falling shut. “It has to end. I will no longer permit any more of my men to die fighting a battle neither shall ever win.”

He held her gaze longer than he should’ve, but May wouldn’t break it. She would show her men she was still strong, despite pulling out of a generation’s long skirmish. She had more important things to focus on.

Demetrius grew restless in his seat as he watched the May’s play of dominance. He was ready if the man didn’t back down.

“You can leave my service, if you’d like,” May said, relaxing her stance as her gaze hardened.

“I have dead brothers to avenge,” he mumbled, trying harder with each passing moment not to shrink from her watchful eyes. “Our men. Your men.”

“Do you want to die fighting the same war your father fought? The same war your sons will fight? Do you think I want more of you to die for a lost cause?”

He stepped back as he broke her gaze. “Lost cause? They all fought—died—for a lost cause?”

“The border is set, men. The dispute is done. Leave your pin on the table if you’re leaving,” she said, sitting back in her chair as the man stared at the floor beneath his feet.

“What did you give him?”

She sighed, shaking her head.

“You must have given him something!” The anger in the man’s voice was growing, his brow bunching as the veins in his neck bulged, “What did he demand for his peace?”

To everyone’s shock, May laughed. She laid her head back against the hard chair and laughed, going as far as to wipe a tear from her cheek and flick it towards Demetrius.

“He came to me asking how I infiltrated his home, wondering how I killed his High Councilor.”

The few who had started to remove their pins quickly stopped in their tracks, immediately looking back at May.

“I had met him to discuss my own predicament in much similar terms, but he seemed to have beaten me to it. We paid each other nothing besides the intent to bring forth the sacrilegious killer and have him pay his dues,” she placed her hands on the table in front of her, leaning over herself as the fire behind her cast the shadows of a warrior upon her. “I won’t fall victim to whatever plan is being hatched by whatever man is hatching it. Is that clear?”

She had managed to bring them back within her grasp, but knew it wouldn’t be easy to continue to hold them there.

The remainder of the meeting went as planned, the opposition to the truce floating away with the realization that there would be no more fighting upon the muddy banks, death spilling upon the shoals and staining the flow of the river.

They didn’t seem to mourn the holy man Voth much after the announcement of the ending war, instead choosing to celebrate bringing in a new era of peace.

She let them cheer as they ran to meet their wives through the manor corridors, choosing instead to meander a bit longer in the office with Demetrius after she’d dismissed them.

His jaw was sharp and tight as he faced her, slowly shaking his head. “They’d have more to celebrate if you told them the truth,” he said, unabashed as was his way.

May met his eyes, pleading dripping from her own. “What they did to Giardin for refusing—”

“Is not our responsibility!” His heavy fists slammed the solid table, the wood shuddering underneath them both.

May met his strength with her own. “Who are we if we let them win?”

The silence between them was quick in passing, but heavy in foreboding.

“You’ve never been religious, May—”

“This has nothing to do with the church, Demetrius, and you know it. What he’s doing… it’s wrong. I don’t want to sign them up for a war. A real war, with more than a few hundred men marching upon one another.” She scoffed, tilting her chair back towards the fire, “They don’t know what real war is.”

“They’d immediately support him. He’d be getting rid of all tithes, forever.”

May shook her head. “I’m not in support of the tithes, Demetrius. You know this.”

He nodded, folding his arms in front of him as he sighed. “You’ll have to tell them at some point. Sooner rather than later. Either that or risk your head.”

“I know,” she let her chair fall flat to the floor again, leaning her elbows on the table. “But not yet.”

-

Oryn didn’t know how to feel. They didn’t know what to say. The thought of May killing something sentient, something living, let alone commanding an entire… What was it called?

Alec skimmed another couple of pages before handing the book over to Oryn. He stood from their plush seats, rummaging through the scrolls littering the desks and shelves. “This passage is about the main structure of the Councilors,” he said, a distracted air about him. He wouldn’t look Oryn in the eye and didn’t want to stand too close; his fear was palpable, but Oryn could see the spark in the child’s eye, too.

Oryn shifted in their seat, sinking a little deeper into the cushions. “How do you want to go about this?”

Alec froze mid stride between one bookshelf and another, fumbling with the small stack of scrolls in his hands. “Well,” he started, “Our Lady wants me to teach you. That’s… that’s what I’m doing.”

“Well, yes,” Oryn sighed, “but I image there’s got to be a whole lot of information to cover.” She looked around the archive from where she sat, never having seen a room so tall with shelves so large. So many books to read, so much to learn. It was just a tad overwhelming.

Alec tapped his foot on the stone, a soft echo resonating around the archive. “Yes,” he nodded, “there is. Here, I’ll have you start with some of the basics of the clergy, then some old hymns and poems…” he nodded, growing more confident with himself. “I’ll put together a few of the basics for you to read through while I try to form some semblance of a history lesson.” He turned and started down the hall, mumbling to himself about which books he should pick first.

After his original search down in the archive, Alec knew he’d need to make some changes if he were ever to find what it is he was searching for. The layers of dust and debris could be hiding any number of precious tomes holding exactly what he was looking for. Things were strewn about without rhyme or reason, and Alec took upon the task of fixing it. Although it had only been a few weeks since he began, the polished stone floor and fresh candles made the place where Oryn sat seem completely different than the one Alec had first entered.

He didn’t know if his father would be proud or enraged at his current position, flitting amongst stacks of books instead of training to fight, yet taking direct orders from the Duchess herself. He wouldn’t worry about that now, though—he had lessons to prepare, books to find. He was getting better and better at pushing things from his mind, like the fact that the man he’ll be spending the majority of his time with is a beast wearing sheep’s skin.

Oryn started reading the book laid on their lap from the page Alec had flipped to.

The torment cascaded through the flesh of what was once man, devouring a soul in exchange for sanctity. To live safely amongst the banished demons, you had to become one. An act of evil that has occurred only once throughout the history of our realm, shattering the unity of man and the vitality bestowed upon us by our Gods. In doing so, order had lost all meaning and Natural Chaos enveloped the land, any semblance of what was once holy lost among those maimed in the sacrifice, their secrets disappearing with them upon their deaths.

A large portion of the rest of the page was an author’s note, pertaining to the time skip in this particular text. Several centuries of strife and chaos and ruin befell humanity, with most being hunted for sport by the rampaging beasts fueled by our indecision and selfishness.

It was with great hardships that the Council was risen, restoring holiness to a dying race. It was with a Herald’s blessing—glorious in its horrifying visage—that all was saved and greatness restored. Upon his descent—

Boots thundered down the hall as what sounded like a full battalion of soldiers making quick pace through the manor. Muffled orders were shouted, someone on the other side of the door sounding afraid.

“Shit,” Alec scrambled out from the tall shelves, dropping the large stack of scrolls and books and parchment. “Sounds like a call to arms,” he muttered, looking towards Oryn. “There hasn’t been one of those in well over a month now…” he rambled, his eyes constricting as the door was opened with force.

Demetrius’s hulking figure stood in the door frame, his great-axe looming at his side in his shadow. Guards and soldiers alike rushed behind him down the hall, getting louder and louder as each order was barked from the many superiors heading to the center of the fight.

“Attacked from the southwest. Looks like Lord Giardin’s banner, but we can’t be sure. Duchess has asked I take you to safety,” he said between heavy breaths, sweat staining his brow. He had fought already tonight, and would have to fight yet again.

“At… attacked?” Alec muttered, his skin starting to pale.

Demetrius sighed, grabbing the boy by his shaking hands and turning towards Oryn. “Follow me. Stay close.”

He turned quickly from the room, Oryn following in his wake. It was tumultuous to make it through such a packed hall. As the majority of them turned off into separate halls and headed towards their designated battleground, Demetrius and his motley crew headed up a winding staircase.

He continued his brisk jog up the stairs, pulling Alec along with him. Oryn’s chest burned with the exertion as they went through one door into another hall and up the second—or was it the third?—flight of stairs.

The screaming only got louder with their ascent, the battle on the ground accelerating quickly. The screams of the fighting and dying, the roars of the flames as barns were lit ablaze, the shrieking of steel on steel…

Oryn’s blood rushed hot through their veins as the sounds seeped deep into their skull, striking something primal within their core. Their hands shook as they ascended the rickety ladder after Alec, Demetrius having headed up first. The sounds abated as they were muffled by the final floor of the manor, the hatch being pulled shut tight behind them, Demetrius effectively sealing them in.

handing you all a quick silly thing 🥺

hey guys now that mr qi is officially on some glitchy 4th wall breaking hidden creepypasta bullshit can we finally make him the tumblr sexyman he's always deserved to be

Gale worrying about Finnick and Katniss liking eachother- meanwhile the two of them have people on stand by to sedate them and are just aggressively knotting their shared therapy rope while they talk about Peeta and Annie in between naps

I LOVE MY MUTUALS SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭

FINAL NUN ALERT: Mother “P” (belongs to my mutual @keter-kan ✨✨)

I actually had a lot of fun drawing her ngl. Then again, sketchy nuns are a favorite trope of mine 😌✨

Thank you to all who participated btw. It was fun drawing y’all’s Stardew farmers as sketchy religious figures lol 💙