@discipulusmaleficus

[text]: shocked you could dredge any up to start with. [text]: what has humanity done this time?

[txt] wont stop moving my plants

[txt] keep trying to talk to me while im putting things away

[txt] was working register and someone started yelling at me

[txt] am going to lose job for biting someone

+ “Oh God, something is wrong with me.”

spooky scary demon possession ･ﾟ✫ @discipulusmaleficus

In all fairness to Hana, she had been the one to summon this demon; after all, summoning was something of her speciality, and she couldn't let him have all the fun. He had been the one to fetch some more exotic items she'd required for the summoning, items which she would not be able to source herself. There had been no need for Kalmar to stick around, but it wasn't exactly like Hana had told him that he had to go. Now look at the situation they were in. 'Okay, okay, it's fine,' Hana said through deep breaths. The demon had decided that it had more interest in the weird guy who must have been the one that summoned it than the sweet little lady, dressed in clothes too pastel to be anything more than an innocent bystander. 'I should have something to fix this.' She hurried away from Kalmar and over to the tote bag filled with various oddities and began ruffling through them all, gentle enough to make sure she didn't bring harm to anything particularly fragile. 'Have you ever been possessed by a demon before?' she asked all too casually. 'Just... hang in there, okay?'

discord rp stuff featuring @discipulusmaleficus and @desertfragments

okay, here we go: what are the most common misconceptions about freekz? what's the source of this sort of condition - genetic, other? do freek abilities always have inherent downsides? have they always existed throughout history? what do the most powerful freekz on record look like?

bless u dmitri 💖

let's see, common misconceptions: that you can "catch" freekinezz through close contact of freekz/being in freek spaces etc, that every freek is dangerous and/or wishes to hurt Normies and they cannot and should not be trusted, the Freek Agenda... there's also a rumour that may or may not be true that freekz all have a shared telepathy and they can read each other's minds and they are going to use this to PLOT to take over the WORLD

it's genetic! you can be a carrier and never know it. you can pass it on to your kid and it may not ever surface in them. the "source" is loosely explained here, mass water contamination, turning all the frogs gay sorta situation

as a general rule, most freek abilities are Uncool and Useless; that's integral to this concept. but then that also depends on what you define uncool and useless as. everyone has side-effects -- i.e ruth constantly cosplaying as rudolph because the skin on her nose/nostrils never gets the chance to heal, funke out-methaning herds of cattle at all times -- no one's immune to that. but it's all about Perspective, really...

the first(?) freek was discovered in 1971 and this blog is set in like 1994-1998, so the community is sooooo new!! history is being made as we speak!!

there are rumblings that the freekz who have legitimate powers or dangerously uncontrollable abilities or are "of use" for whatever reason are captured and then housed somewhere secret by the government. no one knows if it's true, but everyone's heard several versions of the same story about a roster of token characters, like the guy who can control the weather or the guy who can make people's heads implode. it's hard to tell what's bullshit and what's not because of the nature of freek gifts. those guys COULD exist. the one thing they're all in agreement about is that it's a fucking terrifying prospect that one day the government might steal you, either to utilise you or kill you or whatever. who knows........ maybe it's a 5-star resort, wherever they're taken, IF they are indeed taken........ but nobody wants to find out. that kind of almost answers your question

@discipulusmaleficus

okay, he knows why he’s trailing behind birding bob and this morning’s flock  (git it?) of twitchers - and it’s not all as grim as it might seem. he actually enjoys the small-talk that occurs in between the mental note-taking of established habitats. he supposes it’s rather depressing that these enthusiasts and the passion they share together - and have shared with him, by not asking questions about why he’s out here instead of, i don’t know, being in school or something - are the cause for the ever-so-slight decline in local populations, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? and conrad would never dream of scarfing down their beloved cardinals or tufted titmouses (or is that titmice?) in front of them, even if some morbid part of him thinks that would be hysterically funny, and he has in fact written it down somewhere to use for a future skit.

but why is he here? 

conrad stops, letting the group go on ahead without him. he’s so used to their meetings taking place under the cover of darkness that it’s kind of jarring to see kalmar in the stark winter sunshine. he would think that out of the two of them, kalmar would be more likely to evaporate, or melt into a bubbling goo, or whatever it is that’s supposed to happen. he’s concerned about the effect this sudden surge of vitamin d might have on the mage.

“wonderful,” he says, using a stubby pencil to put an ‘x’ in a box on the bird bingo card they hand out at the start of the walk. “common loon was the last one i needed. biiiiiingo!”

[ ask ; @discipulusmaleficus ] "Oh, I know," says Kal. His voice is easy, blasé, but hell if he doesn't. He remembers the oppressive sensation of being stuck within the walls of the Academy, stuck trudging through the bog around his aunt's mouldering farmhouse or dying in her loft. Of fate and obligation laid out immovable in front of him. Everything that drove him to run away and never look back. And now he's stuck here. And he's not even a nurse. Not even a mage. He's -- Kalmar takes another shot. Smirks. "Well, I suppose you can walk away any time you want, hm?"

"Right." Rowan can't quite muster up the enthusiasm to make that sound true. He still stuck to his story: he had come here to escape his shitty roommate, and he worked to pay his rent. It was all his choice to be here.

He could, theoretically, break his deal with Chester and go anytime. It would fuck over a valuable friend contact, and a thousand cops would be on his ass to drag him back to jail, but he could skip town. He knew how. But then, Nat would be left here alone. But then, he wouldn't be able to contact Garrot if he needed him for something. But then, Sofi.

"But then, I wouldn't get to see whatever it is that finally kills you." A ghost of a smirk passes across his face. He lays back, letting his head hang over the railing of the bed. "Besides, it's fucking nice having a bed."

Rowan gestures with his empty cup. "Your turn."

(Continued from here with @discipulusmaleficus )

discipulusmaleficus:

“Information. On diagnosis, for a start, perhaps more if you prove yourself useful.” A subtle challenge, as if he doesn’t expect him to. “You could say I'm…” He sits still, unconsciously grinds his rings against each other with a tiny, metallic noise. The smile and the lightness of his voice stay set, masklike. He’s not nearly close to reading Clemcy’s mind, but he can feel enough to feel uncomfortable. “Investigating the source of an anomaly. On behalf of a client, of course.” He’d wrung his brain for a better lie and found none. Delivered it with passing confidence and a dry mouth. “The literature on all of this is sparse, I’m sure you understand.”

Clemcy makes cold, deliberate eye contact at the implied challenge; unimpressed, disapproving. (Annoyed. He has nothing to prove to this child, knows better than to rise to the bait, but… the desire to extract the respect he is due still exists, nonetheless.)

His flat expression shifts to a faint frown at the mention of a third party. “Ah. A client. I see.” Does he believe that claim? It hardly matters; his response is the same regardless, and Kalmar will just have to sort out his own priorities from there. Clemcy sits up and shuffles briefly through his desk, pulling out a blank notepad and his basic consultation fee sheet.

“The literature is sparse, yes — due to knowledge hoarding and cultural taboos, of course, but also because souls simply are not well-characterized by language or generalized ritual. Understand that without performing an in-person examination I cannot provide a diagnosis,” he says. “Anything we discuss like this is information, as you say; consultation, not action.”

@discipulusmaleficus {x}

A derisive little laugh. He's more surprised by the feeling that he actually might. "Why? You offering an alternative?"

He shakes his head. Nothing so succinct. "It's more that - this is the wrong place. Like I am not supposed to be here. Do you understand?"

He fiddles with the metal mechanism. Its composition is diamond in stature, but throughout its woven grooves are small, etched symbols. " My contact told me to come to you. " Exhaustion laces his voice. Must've been up late throwing this thing at the wall. Though he doesn't hand it to the man quite yet.

" Heard you know about artefacts and shit. Any clue if this thing is gonna' blow up? "

@discipulusmaleficus has crossed paths.

“ WAIT. OH.MY.GOD!” Ellie exclaims, a little bit dramatically, a little bit theatrically, but in a fully Ellie way. She withdraws, physically and mentally, from whatever ritual they are about to do (she has no what idea if they are actually going to do some kind of a ritual or @discipulusmaleficus just turned around to take a sip of his water - she is already assuming things!).

“ I have to ask you something before we begin. It's SUPER important. ---- are you a feminist?”

@discipulusmaleficus

"Hm~mm --" He's still weak. Better, but still so FUCKING weak. The joints of his right hand are already burning with the pressure, but Kai speaks with little effort.

Pathetic, worthless -

Kalmar shifts his grip, pressing a bony elbow hard into Kai's throat, presses his weight into him more firmly. Hears a small noise, and grins broadly.

And if the little shit enjoys it? All the better. This is to piss off Quintessa. But he does hope to make it memorable, one way or another --

The sound of a drawer pushed shut, and a lovingly sharpened blade digs lightly into his neck, just above Kalmar's arm. He presses his hips into the heat of the near-stranger's body. Smells smoke.

"That better, whore~?"

Dark lashes flutter as he struggles to breathe, a gasping pant parting pretty lips. His hips grind against the ones pinning him down, as if he could fight this, fight himself, fight this pressing want- this need- to be nothing, worthless, just another whore, just another slut, just another shitty piece of meat trying to fuck his way to something better.

Isn't this all he's worth?

"I--s that, that i-! It?" Kai grates out. The knife presses against his neck and he bites back a shuddering, desperate sound. "Sh- she sq--ueezes h, ha-arder in public." A shallow breath is scratched out under Kalmar's weight. "Y--ou j'st wa-want t'be Tess s, so ba--ad!" A laugh bubbles up, a few bright ashes sputtering up and out of a panting mouth. "'ll nev'r co-compa---re t'her."

The burning in his chest is starting to ache. His fingers twitch against the bed. The warm heat of the fire starts to spread against his palms.

“ Hey, want to see a trick? ” @ ren

mixed bag starters ･ﾟ✫ @discipulusmaleficus

Ren, previously occupied with his phone, looks up at Kalmar. His thumb still lingers over the screen (he was reading about a musician in South Korea he'd not heard of, though reading is a strong word; he was really just scrolling through the thread, absorbing zero information as he waited for something more interesting to happen). In a poor effort to try to improve his own outlook, Ren often spends time around people or places or even consuming media with a bright, optimistic outlook. Kalmar, he can quite easily say, is not one of those kinds of people from what experience Ren has had with him. This is one of the reasons he looks up at Kal with wide, expectant eyes; this wasn't a question he was expecting to be asked. 'Yeah, sure.' He's not at all sure what to expect; is it a magic trick, a trick of the eye? Is he going to produce a yo-yo and start doing some lame tricks any kid could learn with 10 minutes of practice? Or is this the kind of trick that one can coerce a dog to do with some patience and treats? Only one way to find out.

little disco rp doodles featuring @discipulusmaleficus @scxrytxles and @desertfragments

@discipulusmaleficus sc.

"i don't know who keeps drawing that fucking shit in the shower condensation--" she rips a cupboard door open, takes out a bottle of cleaning bleach, then slams it shut again with the hand that isn't keeping the ends of her towel knotted together. "but i know i have a fork that's itching to pierce into somebody's soft tissue. i'd aim for the jugular. i'm unlikely to miss. take note."

funke glances phlegmatically at the mage over the rim of his bowl. he starts slurping his leftover cereal milk.

❛ So what if you're a monster? Everyone has a little monster in them...  ❜

"oh, don't give me that crap. when's the last time you ate a kitten?"

❝  look,  i dunno if i’m the kind of person you need or even want right now.  but i’m looking around and i’m the only one who’s here.  ❞ @ free choice?

"Would you look at me! Garrot, I swear to God--"

Garrot sat on his bed, hands loose, impassive as he'd been since the moment Sofi had come storming into the room. His eyes lingered on the window. He watched a leaf float by.

That was the last straw. Grabbing him by the shirt collar, she threw him to the ground and pounced upon him with a snarl. She raised her fist--and stopped. He wasn't moving. His expression had hardly changed. He still wouldn't look at her.

Sofi's eyes burned and blurred, and she was ten years old again, washed up on that filthy shore. Garrot offered her a slice of moldy bread--the only food he had--while she growled at him from a corner. His eyes through those coke-bottle glasses had sparkled like the sea.

Her fist collided with his nose with a resounding crack. He didn't move. He didn't look up. Not even as hot tears dripped onto his face.

There was no point. There was no getting through to him, and certainly not like this. The heat trickled down into bright hot shame her cheeks, and she stood up as fast as she was able, slamming the door as she left.

She made it two steps before she found herself leaned up against the wall and curled up into a little ball in the hall. She didn't hear the creak of the wheels. She did hear him speak.

She looked up, eyes puffy and red, and rubbed them quick, as if he hadn't been able to see everything. "I," she paused. What was there to say? Instead, she stood. "I'm alright." Loosely, her hands wrapped around her middle. "I miss him. That's all."