I can’t believe it. Not only did the Grandmaster bat his eyes at Loki, he did the suggestive eyebrow wiggle/bat eyes combo - right in front of Thor’s horrified eyes. I am gone, folks. I’ve left my mortal form and ascended to another plane of existence.
I have been deceived by my trustworthy writing platform. See, it regularly autosaves my writing while I’m typing away and coming up with good scenes that improve the story.
Except this time, IT DIDN’T.
HALF OF IT DIDN’T SAVE.
You think you can stop me with petty obstacles like this, Word Online??
WELL, YOU CAN’T!! IN FACT, I’M GONNA WRITE THIS SHIT EVEN BETTER NOW, SEE IF YOU CAN STOP ME THEN AIWUG2NAOQOI2JE8DYWNMQZBB¡SNDO37GSHPO(IYHD=T36XHP¡VB!!
1 & 2: If these tawny emperors asked for my life savings I would drop everything and go to the bank. If they needed a kidney, I’d carve mine out with a box cutter. I would forego weeks of sleep to ensure they were happy (OH WAIT)
3: Chrysalis Watch status: 5! Did you know chrysalises will shake violently if they sense danger? Mounting these was basically a series of jump scares. I screamed every time, and yesterday when they were especially bad, I curled up in the fetal position the corner of my kitchen until I could breathe again.
4 & 5: Io moth molt day! Batch 2 (19 caterpillars, photo 4) are now 4th instar, batch 1 (10 caterpillars, photo 5) are 5th instar. That might be the last one before they pupate! I need to look into it–they make cocoons from leaf litter so I’ll want to prepare :3
6 - 8: Introducing a grass skipper caterpillar! I found this poor baby on my back patio yesterday morning. I looked him up and he eats St. Augustine (my mortal enemy in grass form). He is also a champion at camouflage.
9: The grass skipper caterpillar will probably become one of these. Which one? No idea.
"I bring an offering of msa au, chapter three" you say that any of us are going to hate you for that, I've been anticipating it so so so badly, and did I mention I love you? Here have one of my three daily chants to you (hi im the 'have my yet unborn firstborn' anon)
OH HELLO, thank you for your daily chant, it gives me more power for the day i finally break free of my mortal fleshy form. thanks!
So Matt keeps talking about how Vecna’s got to convince everybody that he deserves to be believed in, and how he needs worshipers to make him powerful. I couldn’t help but think of how my own company would respond to this, and of course my brain went STRAIGHT to Monty Python.
I had to get this out quickly though, because I know that this is probably gonna be obsolete tonight! But ah well, have my little doodled comic anyway =)
This is also 100% how Khajmith, my Teenage Half-elf Bard, would die.
Text transcript under the cut =)
(I’ve just seen the spelling mistakes but also…. whatever….)
Vol. 1 “In the beginning, a vast and timeless tree grew at the heart of the world. From its branches grew an endless crop of mana, primordial element of all life. Its leaves thrummed with a boundless, vibrant energy. Humankind harnessed that mana, that energy, and ruled over the world as gods. Mana begat the study of magitechnology. Magitechnology, in turn, begat war. The two great nations, Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, shared naught in common but a bitter mutual hatred. In time, their war gave rise to the Desians, a race of blind and hateful greed. They drove the world to its knees, and nearly extinguished all life upon it.”
Vol.2 “Taking pity upon mankind and his folly, the Goddess Martel sent unto the world a boy to serve as her agent. He brought the warring nations to accord, sealed away the Desians, and restored peace to the world. So spoke the king of Tethe'alla: ‘As penance for bringing war upon this land, we will leave it for all time.’ Upon hearing those words, Mithos drew upon the divine power of Martel to erect a tower that reached the heavens. The people of Tethe'alla scaled it, never halting their march until they had come to live upon the moon. The king of Sylvarant spoke thusly: 'Let us construct a portal to link our worlds. That we may not forever lose our bond with our brothers of Tethe'alla.’ Hearing honest love and contrition in the king’s plea, Mithos once more called upon the power of the Goddess. Serving as her instrument, he created a great stone gate that would open only when the moon was full.”
Vol. 3 “His works complete, Mithos proclaimed: 'The great tree is no more, yet life has need of mana. And so I now cede my mortal form, that it may become sustenance to the world. I will embrace a sleep eternal, here in the shadow of the withered tree.’ Mithos’s form dissolved into the earth, and the people mourned him. None more than the Goddess, who was so overcome with grief she fled to the heavens, and into abiding slumber. The world was deprived of its hero and its deity both, and the seal wrought by their power slowly ebbed in strength. When it finally broke, the Desians were loosed once more upon the world, and all life was plunged into despair. It was an angel, born of Mithos’s mana, that delivered the light of hope back unto the world. Borrowing the power of the summon spirits, the angel scaled the tower to heaven, and there prayed to Martel.”
Vol. 4 “The angel prayed for seven days and seven nights until the Goddess woke. Thereupon, she formed a pact with the pilgrim born of Mithos’s sacrifice. So were her words: 'In recognition of your journey, I will see the Desians wiped from this world. But should the day come that I fade from the hearts of the people, this tower shall be forfeit. The path to heaven will be closed to them forevermore. The Desians will be unleashed anew, and mana will be lost for all time. If you would avoid such a fate, angel, then lay a path to salvation. When the people have need of me, I shall see this tower connected to my heavenly abode.’ Hearing this, the angel returned to the world and begat the mana lineage. They are scions of the angel, fated to seek out Mithos’s grave in order to wake the sleeping Martel. The selfless hero lies interred in the heart of the world, the Tower of Salvation his grave marker. There, in the shadow of the now-lost world tree, in the Holy Ground of Kharlan. The Goddess and the human world lie tethered.”
I have no clue if anybody shared this yet *g* I’ve been taking my time and found this bit in Asgard. I can’t wait to see if there’s a matching fairy tale in Tethe'alla! I originally typed it out for Mercy, but ultimately decided I wanted a hard copy as well.
You rub the back of your head, already getting tired of the argument. You and Ashton never really got in to a lot of fights, but when you do, it’s loaded with all of your feelings, meaning it gets pretty rough sometimes. Like right now, you can simply feel that there will be a downpour of emotions.
Something else that is really typical about all fights, is the weather that went with it. It doesn’t matter what time of the dat it is (though it’s mostly at night, which makes everything even more frightening), for some reason, a thunderstorm would act up. You had always been quite afraid of thunderstorms. The combination of the heavy rain, the deafening sounds and the mass-murder lightning bolts always made you want to curl up under ten blankets and you loved to have a person nearby.
“The implement, the device of my extinction The terminating clockwork of my gleeful bane The definitive scourge of its mockery The end-art instruments, lethality attained
Heed, it commands, heed my will Bleed, it says, bleed you will
Falling into the clarity of undoing Scornful gods haggle for my soul Minds eye flickers and vellicates as I let go Taunting whispers accompany my deletion
A sneering grin, the voice of my reaper Chanting softly the song of depletion”
What happens when a demon is possessed by an even greater evil? Chimney is going to find out, and it may, and it may cost him everything…
Well this is what you’ve all been waiting for, and here it is.
This story means a lot to me, and while it may seem to be a possession story on the surface a lot of myself went into it. It was a labor of love and after recently losing a beloved family member I used this writing as an outlet for my grief on top of using it to process my emotions regarding past traumas.
This is not only a spooky story made to chill your bones, but also a story of survival, determination, and what great power love (and sometimes spite) can have.
I truly hope you enjoy reading this piece and that you take a moment to check out my friends works as well. Special thanks to @irdeadite , @galaxiabunny , and @bogheyboss for the use of their muses.
We turned east on Eighty-second Street.
By the time we reached Second Avenue, the neighborhood started to look familiar — rows of low-rise apartment buildings, run-down hardware shops, convenience stores, and Indian restaurants. I knew that Percy Jackson lived around here somewhere, but my trips across the sky in the sun chariot had given me something of a Google Earth orientation. I wasn’t used to traveling at street level.
Also, in this mortal form, my flawless memory had become … flawed. Mortal fears and needs clouded my thoughts. I wanted to eat. I wanted to use the restroom. My body hurt. My clothes stank. I felt as if my brain had been stuffed with wet cotton. Honestly, how do you humans stand it?
After a few more blocks, a mixture of sleet and rain began to fall. Meg tried to catch the precipitation on her tongue, which I thought a very ineffective way to get a drink of dirty water. I shivered and concentrated on happy thoughts: the Bahamas, the Nine Muses in perfect harmony, the many horrible punishments I would visit on Cade and Mikey when I became a god again.
I still wondered about their boss, and how he had known where I would fall to earth. No mortal could’ve had that knowledge. In fact, the more I thought about it, I didn’t see how even a god (other than myself) could have foreseen the future so accurately. After all, I had been the god of prophecy, master of the Oracle of Delphi, distributor of the highest quality sneak previews of destiny for millennia.
Of course, I had no shortage of enemies. One of the natural consequences of being so awesome is that I attracted envy from all quarters. But I could only think of one adversary who might be able to tell the future. And if he came looking for me in my weakened state …
I tamped down that thought. I had enough to worry about. No point scaring myself to death with what ifs.
We began searching side streets, checking names on apartment mailboxes and intercom panels. The Upper East Side had a surprising number of Jacksons. I found that annoying.
After several failed attempts, we turned a corner and there — parked under a crape myrtle — sat an older model blue Prius. Its hood bore the unmistakable dents of pegasus hooves. (How was I sure? I know my hoof marks. Also normal horses do not gallop over Toyotas. Pegasi often do.)
“Aha,” I told Meg. “We’re getting close.”
Half a block down, I recognized the building: a five-story brick row house with rusty air conditioner units sagging from the windows. “Voilà!” I cried.
At the front steps, Meg stopped as if she’d run into an invisible barrier. She stared back toward Second Avenue, her dark eyes turbulent.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Thought I saw them again.”
“Them?” I followed her gaze but saw nothing unusual. “The thugs from the alley?”
“No. Couple of …” She waggled her fingers. “Shiny blobs. Saw them back on Park Avenue.”
My pulse increased from an andante tempo to a lively allegretto. “Shiny blobs? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She tapped the temples of her glasses. “I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff. Told you that. Mostly, things don’t bother me, but …”
“But if they are following us,” I said, “that would be bad.”
I scanned the street again. I saw nothing amiss, but I didn’t doubt Meg had seen shiny blobs. Many spirits could appear that way. My own father, Zeus, once took the form of a shiny blob to woo a mortal woman. (Why the mortal woman found that attractive, I have no idea.)
“We should get inside,” I said. “Percy Jackson will help us.”
Still Meg held back. She had shown no fear while pelting muggers with garbage in a blind alley, but now she seemed to be having second thoughts about ringing a doorbell. It occurred to me she might have met demigods before. Perhaps those meetings had not gone well.
“Meg,” I said, “I realize some demigods are not good. I could tell you stories of all the ones I’ve had to kill or transform into herbs — ”
“But Percy Jackson has always been reliable. You have nothing to fear. Besides, he likes me. I taught him everything he knows.”
She frowned. “You did?”
I found her innocence somewhat charming. So many obvious things she did not know. “Of course. Now let’s go up.”
I rang the buzzer. A few moments later, the garbled voice of a woman answered, “Yes?”
“Hello,” I said. “This is Apollo.”
“The god Apollo,” I said, thinking perhaps I should be more specific. “Is Percy home?”
More static, followed by two voices in muted conversation. The front door buzzed. I pushed it open. Just before I stepped inside, I caught a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. I peered down the sidewalk but again saw nothing.
Perhaps it had been a reflection. Or a whirl of sleet. Or perhaps it had been a shiny blob. My scalp tingled with apprehension.
“What?” Meg asked.
“Probably nothing.” I forced a cheerful tone. I did not want Meg bolting off when we were so close to reaching safety. We were bound together now. I would have to follow her if she ordered me to, and I did not fancy living in the alley with her forever. “Let’s go up. We can’t keep our hosts waiting.”
After all I had done for Percy Jackson, I expected delight upon my arrival. A tearful welcome, a few burnt offerings, and a small festival in my honor would not have been amiss.
Instead, the young man swung open the apartment door and said, “Why?”
As usual, I was struck by his resemblance to his father, Poseidon. He had the same sea-green eyes, the same dark tousled hair, the same handsome features that could shift from humor to anger so easily. However, Percy Jackson did not favor his father’s chosen garb of beach shorts and Hawaiian shirts. He was dressed in ragged jeans and a blue hoodie with the words ahs swim team stitched across the front.
Meg inched back into the hallway, hiding behind me.
I tried for a smile. “Percy Jackson, my blessings upon you! I am in need of assistance.”
Percy’s eyes darted from me to Meg. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Meg McCaffrey,” I said, “a demigod who must be taken to Camp Half-Blood. She rescued me from street thugs.”
“Rescued …” Percy scanned my battered face. “You mean the ‘beat-up teenager’ look isn’t just a disguise? Dude, what happened to you?”
“I may have mentioned the street thugs.”
“But you’re a god.”
“About that … I was a god.”
Percy blinked. “Was?”
“Also,” I said, “I’m fairly certain we’re being followed by malicious spirits.”
If I didn’t know how much Percy Jackson adored me, I would have sworn he was about to punch me in my already broken nose.
He sighed. “Maybe you two should come inside.”