Claws of Gold

Anyway, I’m in one of the best schools for Mortuary Sciences and will have graduated in September 2023. So, I’m moving on. Lifes fallen into place finally and I will not be back. IM’s are open always (I’ll treat this place like a private email I will check once every January) if you have any question about the field I am in and are interested in becoming a funeral service professional yourself as I am a huge advocate for it. As well as something called Restorative Art in Mortuary Science.

And so, it has been such an experience here I can’t help but leave with a thank you to those who I met along the way. The wordsmithing we created were such masterpieces in our eyes.  

And to those I never got to say goodbye to, perhaps the ones that were the closest to me, the ones I always stayed another year for, hoping they’d come back. You made my world a better place, and me a better person.

An Extremely Self-Indulgent Meme

Physical prompts based around some of my favorite tropes / physical actions in threads. Send this   + reverse   to change which muse does which action.

tw for implied violence in some

❰❰ PIN ❱❱ sender pins receiver during a fight/training

❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver

❰❰ CARRY ❱❱ sender carries receiver bridal style

❰❰ LIFT ❱❱ sender carries receiver over their shoulder

❰❰ MEDIC ❱❱ sender bandages receiver’s wounds

❰❰ SUPPORT ❱❱ sender comforts receiver after a loss / traumatic event

❰❰ THREAT ❱❱ sender holds a weapon up to receiver as a threat

❰❰ SAVE ❱❱ sender saves receiver’s life

❰❰ CRY ❱❱ sender cries in front of receiver

❰❰ DANCE ❱❱ sender invites receiver to slow dance

❰❰ HAND KISS ❱❱ sender kisses receiver on the hand or wrist

❰❰ CHEEK KISS ❱❱ sender kisses receiver on the cheek

❰❰ HEAD KISS ❱❱ sender kisses receiver on the forehead

❰❰ EMBRACE ❱❱ sender embraces receiver

❰❰ HANDS ❱❱ sender’s fingers graze the receiver’s fingers

❰❰ CUDDLE ❱❱ our muses cuddle

❰❰ BED ❱❱ our muses share a bed

❰❰ BRUSH ❱❱ sender plays with / brushes receiver’s hair

❰❰ GAZE ❱❱ our muses make extended eye contact

❰❰ ALMOST ❱❱ our muses almost kiss but don’t or are interrupted before they do

❰❰ ARGUE ❱❱ sender ends an argument with receiver with a kiss

❰❰ ARM ❱❱ sender puts their arm around receiver

❰❰ PULL ❱❱ sender pulls receiver close to them

❰❰ BACK ❱❱ sender touches receiver on the back

❰❰ SHOULDER ❱❱ sender touches receiver on the shoulder

❰❰ LEAN ❱❱ sender leans against receiver

❰❰ CARESS ❱❱ sender caresses the receiver’s cheek

❰❰ HAIR ❱❱ sender pushes receiver’s hair away from their face

❰❰ TILT ❱❱ sender tilts the receiver’s chin with their hand

❰❰ CHIN ❱❱ sender tilts the receiver’s chin with their weapon

❰❰ LEG ❱❱ sender’s leg touches the receiver’s leg under the table

❰❰ FOOD ❱❱ sender feeds the receiver

❰❰ WALL ❱❱ sender pushes the receiver against a wall

❰❰ FREE ❱❱ sender frees the receiver from restraints

❰❰ TACKLE ❱❱ sender hugs the receiver so hard they almost fall over / do fall over

❰❰ DYING ❱❱ sender finds the receiver near death

send in " sorry; this might sting a little... " for the sender to be cleaning a wound on the receiver's face, resulting in them being almost intimately close, making eye contact either knowingly or without meaning to.

alternatively, send in " no, i'm fine. you're got a gentle touch... " for the sender to be the one with the injury, and the receiver leaning in intimately close to them in order to gently clean it.

The past four weeks were largely uneventful, a monotonous string of mundane acts of following stories and accounts of a landlord who had a bunch of names attached to rooms that housed no tenants. The obvious questions wasn’t why but rather why would one care. That’s when the tension built, how the dates when these alleged people moved in there were spikes of drug activity, accounts of friends and acquaintances managing to land product that wasn’t typically found floating around in these corners of the district.  

It’s what brings him here, snapping photos of the seemingly innocuous row house’s façade to commit the address numbers to record. Later, he’ll ditch the flash in hopes of taking more surreptitious photos of any supposed tenants moving in or out. 

But he’s not sure why the musician he half interviewed / half partied with was here. 

‘The drugs’ his mind supplies and though it’s a reasonable speculation, it’s speculation all the same. An assumption with no real evidence to back it up and no real reason to prove in the first place; what care did he have for what she did in privacy?

“Is that so?” He offered a polite smile in return, the reunion was surprising but not necessarily unpleasant as it made him stand out a tad less if he was here speaking with someone rather than loitering suspiciously. “Any chance I can have you stick around to scare them off? It’s bad luck to leave a drinking buddy twisting in the wind, you know.” 

What really boiled her piss was that he was so polite. Even in a situation such as this where any man or woman in their right mind would have gotten the hint, turned tail and ran, but no. This long haired weasel decided to be charming to disarm her. And it worked. 

Her eyes rolled, nearly out of her head, as she let out a long and tired sigh.  Might as well throw the dog a bone. 

“I’ll tell ya what, you wanna play a game? I love games.” She smiled her wide grin - those jewels on her teeth shimmering in the reflection of the streets lights. 

“You see this avenue? The long strip with the house with the red door at the end?” Yes, there was an avenue with just that same house! only about four modest houses, two stories, looking to maybe be empty --- or someone was hiding in them. 

It came out clean in two pieces thanks to the surgeons like precision on her own fingers. If anyone looked in the distance, they’d just think maybe the man had taken a fall.

“Are you speaking of a communion with the gods?” a jovial snicker as she covered her smile with a hand. Whenever she heard these locals speak of higher things, those thoughts that sneak in and out of our inner consciousness, it was done in such an abhorrent and comedic way. Laughing was sometimes only the correct prescription for it. 

Don’t be a lordly fool, you’re afraid that when you look into those pools that you’ll drown in it.

I must admit that these greater manifestations that trouble this land are . . . intriguing. . . but I am spoken for. My patron Amaterasu has seen fit to bless me a second life, and a bounty of gifts for my suffering done in her name. She is kind, yet quiet. And I must admit when coming here I have felt significantly colder. She is far away, but I still feel her eyes on me.” She scratched at her chin, as a thought brought her eyes to wander away. This thought clearly troubled her.

BOYS I CAN SMELL A HEADCANON RETCON COMING!!!!!!!

Your Result: you are holy, you are divine

you've eaten yourself alive long enough. it's time to pull yourself down from your cross. i promise you are good, you are pure. you do not have to be a martyr.

Thanks, couldn’t be more fuckin dead on.

Putting the squeeze on foreigners was something admittedly dishonorable, yet it was a shame it was such a lucrative business. She loved to see her country thrive, and the melting pot it had become was something oddly delightful, but that simply didn’t pay the bills! Her ancestors would understand. Hopefully.

She’d rented out a string of derelict housing to about 5 men, all had decided to lap on her payments for rent, so she had gone to the avenue with her bat, her best rings, and her false teeth. 

She’d found her money, her slacks were practically bursting with the yen when she left the last mans house, those shark skin shoes clinging with the change that fell through her pockets, when a bright flash stopped her from her egress.

Ah. The journalist.