#And don't get me started on the twelve!!!!

[botslayer]

If the fire, sulfur, black iron, and devils every which way didn't give it away, both of us aren't in a place you want to be after you die. I'd offer you a drink but the only things they offer you usually came out of... Well. You. My own blood has a pretty good palete.

You don't have to panic. Not yet. You aren't dead, again, not yet. You're only here because everyone gets a fair warning. So change your ways, yadda yadda, find Christ, yadda yadda... Can you tell my heart isn't in it? Good. At least they'll vary up the torture for it. You get sick of eating hunks off of yourself and still being able to feel it the whole time.

Oh... You want to know what I did for that punishment? Well. It started when I was alive. I killed a man in self defense. Robber broke in, I shot him. And it was all down hill from there. I moved out to the woods after the third guy... Mostly because the best I could do there was plead manslaughter.

Anyway. I bought a plot of land not too far from a hiking trail, built a little shack. Turned it into quite the operation. I was a one-man Sawyer family. I had butcher knives, cleavers, cutting boards, sausage stuffers... I remember the first time I ate a man in those woods. The first woman was alright. I screwed up the spices for her liver, though. Live and learn. All in all? I musta got about twelve or thirteen hapless hikers where they needed to be. And I ate like a king for six years.

Why only six? Throw another skull on the fire and I'll tell you... Thank you. See. One night, another guy came traipsing up the path. Another lost and weary traveler. Two in one day, would you believe it? But winter was coming. So a quick stock up in the event of being snowed in was necessary. Problem was I was outside having a smoke and I was still draining the latest one. If he saw that there'd be no mistake what I was up to.

So here comes a seven foot slab of man. Treating the cold around him like it wasn't much of an issue. One thin hoodie over a thin T-shirt and some overalls. I took to a short conversation with him as I sized him up. He had about a foot of height on me and he was built. Big country, cornfed son of a bitch.

"Who're you?" "Who are you?" "Why are you on my property?" "You can own property this close to a hiking trail?" So on and so on... And then I asked if he knew how to get back to the trail. It was getting dark, you see. I offered to help him back if He'd just let me nab my hiking boots. He agreed and I tried to circle around him. I figured he would still be looking at my front door. Waiting like a big old dog.

But when I exited the side, butcher knife in hand, he was holding a woodcutter's axe. Still looking at the door though. I could tell his tool wasn't mine. Crazy bastard must have had it strapped to his back... I took the chance and leapt at him from the side. He shook me off but the fight forced the door to my cabin open and he got a good look at the woman on the hook. I had left the TV on and was listening to it as I smoked, lit her up enough to see.

I'll remember until eternity, when else is there to remember to down here? But I'll remember until eternity what he said after I got to my feet. "Well... This is awkward," and I think it was a joke. I don't know. But I couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose it is."

But we looked at each other... And we kept sizing each other up. I knew my chances of surviving a face-to-face fight with a bigger man with more reach were minimal... If I recall correctly, he didn't want to fight. "We don't have to do this. I could help you butcher if you want..." But I tell you no lie when I tell you meeting a kindred spirit. One so forceful. One so... Comparatively Jovial. I was in love. And love makes us all do crazy things.

The next few minutes for both of us was a game of hack-and-seek. And we were both it. I don't know if he felt the same, but I think we were both having fun slinking around my house and yard. It was a hell of a way to spend my last hour or so on Earth.

But he caught me. I rounded just the wrong corner and he had me by the scruff of my neck. His weapon, unwieldy as it was with a single hand gave me just the time I needed. I stabbed him in the throat just in time to feel the axe crack though my rib cage and split my heart. I died on top of him... I remember trying to kiss him but I don't think I got close enough to his chin.

And now I feel it is another punishment for me. To never see my darling Francis again... I take some solice knowing he hasn't seen me, either... Maybe it means he felt the same. Who can say?

... Your presence in this realm is fading... Well, your arm is translucent, that's usually a dead give away, no pun intended... Just remember. Change your ways. Or you might end up with a good view of what's happening to everyone else while what happens to you, whatever it is, goes on and on. And on. And on. And on. And on.

After successfully leading your next target to your murder-shed in the woods, they pull out an axe from themself and proclaim "oh, this is awkward."

[username8746489]

Fight scene scenario focusing on Sylvie, specifically his reaction to getting injured in front of others

(Cw: Mild gore)

(Fic under cut; wordcount: 794)

Sylvie stayed near the back of the fight, sending Counting Sheep out to support his allies wherever he could. Not for the first time, he scowled to himself. His epithet wasn't really suited for close combat once his opponents knew what it was. Meaning that he was completely relegated to the sidelines.

Although, it wasn't as if he had nothing to do. The trio of twelve year olds cowering behind him definitely gave him incentive to stay here instead of rushing in with Dream Big.

"It's an important job," Percy had instructed him before, "We need you to make sure they stay safe. They're only children, after all."

Ordinarily, he would've been upset at such a minor role in the fight, but he understood and went along with it easily. Maybe because she had deliberately separated him from them when describing the trio as children.

"Augh!"

Sylvie's eyes immediately glanced over to where Percy was cradling her wrist, sword having been kicked into the air by her opponent.

With a grin, they grabbed the hilt, running their finger along the edge of the blade, "Let's see…"

Sylvie flinched as their head snapped towards them, smile growing ever wider on their face.

"The children would be the biggest loss, wouldn't they?"

The Neo Trio screamed as they sprinted forward, fast, much faster than they had been moving this entire fight. Were they holding back?

Sylvie hadn't even registered that he had pushed the girls away until they were upon him, plunging the sword into his side. He grunted, kicking them away and waving a hand to send a sheep gnawing at their legs. They only laughed, withdrawing their weapon with a twirl to swing at the summon, splattering it into dust with a small amount of blood trailing behind its arc. There wasn't any time for another counterattack before Indus was slamming into their side like a battering ram, forcing them far, far away from the kids yet again.

He held a hand on his wound, catching his breath. His body was starting to slump, but he forced himself upright. The world felt so much quieter than it was supposed to be.

"…vie! Sy..ie! Oh my god! Are you okay?!"

He blinked a couple times, looking down at where Molly was gripping onto his sleeve. There was a giant bubble around them. He hadn't noticed she had summoned it.

"I- I tried to dumb down the damage but- You still got hurt- I'm sorry- I- I should've-"

Sylvie wiped the blood off on his coat before placing a hand on the girl's shoulders, "Don't worry, I'm fine-"

"You're not fine!" She exclaimed, tears welling up in her button eyes, "That was a real ass goddamn sword! I- Let me-" Molly held her hands up towards the wound, green epithet bubble shrinking to numb down his pain.

He shoved her away, averting his gaze before he could catch a glimpse of her own shocked expression. "Save your stamina," Sylvie said after a brief moment, "You don't need to waste it on me."

"It's not wasting it!" Molly shouted, "You're my friend, of course I want to help-"

"Well, maybe I don't need your help," Sylvie snapped, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

Molly stared at him, eye twitching, "This is NOT the time for your lone wolf act, Sylvie!"

"Excuse me?!"

"WOAH, KID!" Giovanni Potage rushed into the scene with all of his usual tact (that is to say, none). "Jeez, that was a bad injury! Here." He held out a hand, soup forming into a sphere in his palm. "Open up!"

"I said I don't need it!" Sylvie slapped his hand back, the liquid falling and splattering against the floor. Giovanni just looked at him. Not with the usual annoyance, but more… concern.

He didn't like it. He didn't need their concern. Since when has anyone ever been concerned about him?!

"Go back to the fight," Sylvie spit out, stumbling away. "I'll be-" His own sentence was quickly contradicted by how his legs collapsed from under him, blood loss catching up to him.

"Sylvie!" Molly and Giovanni rushed over.

"Shut up," Sylvie hissed, voice drowned out by the beating of his own heart reverberating in his ears. "Shut up- I don't-" He curled further into himself, breathing picking up in pace until he could barely take in air.

The pain in his side felt like nothing compared to how they were hovering above him, staring down with eyes of pity- Stop it, stop it, stop it!

"Don't look at me," He whispered, pressing his hand further into his injury as if it would disguise the way the blood was soaking into the white of his coat, displaying his weakness for everyone to see.

[charulein]

I have completed both Pandemaemonium and Omphalos,,,,,, it was fun!!!!!!

[rui-ayaki-lower5]

"I will..." *He watches you, looking at you curiously. One could only imagine what sort of sorry state Muzan found him in before turning him into a demon....maybe he will tell you if you ask him?* "Well...Kind of? I was close with one of the former lower sixes and with the upper six duo but they have all since passed on....as for the others I would not exactly say close is the right word....Familiar might be more accurate, We are all well aware of each-other especially since two of the upper moons are neighbors of mine...but all of the remaining moons are grownups and only one of them has any idea how to interact with a kid properly...but there is one I really don't like, upper five; He's a big fat jerk and keeps trying to get me in trouble so he can eat me because i'm a kid..." *he explains, grumbling a bit when he starts talking about upper five, His reasonable detestation for his technical superior evident. He then gets a rather embarrassed expression on his face when you ask your second question* "eh...not exactly either, Something strange happened the last time a group of slayers came to my mountain and it broke the telepathic link between muzan and myself so he can no-longer mentally track my location, read my thoughts or know whether I am dead or alive. Because of this he knew i was in the middle of a fight when the connection broke and assumed I had been killed. However because I was technically the longest lasting lower moon, one of the two demons who had enough strength to hold the position of lower moon one and I am still among one of his favorite demons despite all of the things I have been doing that would definitely get me in big trouble these days; His assumption that I had been killed sent him into a rage which resulted in the deaths of all of the lower moons save for the demon who actually held the title of lower moon one as well as the permanent disbanding of the weaker half of the twelve kizuki. I did not realize this happened until I showed up about an hour later at the usual meeting time and had to explain myself. Since it was all a massive misunderstanding I was allowed to leave with my life but it was decided that re-instating the lower moons was not worth the trouble of finding four replacement moons and as such my mark was allowed to fade..." *He carefully but gracefully hops off the table with your help and readjusts his sleeves back into place, you notice something large, rectangular and oddly book shaped in his sleeve fall back into place near his wrist, what else might he have in those large sleeves of his? He looks down at his kimono which was semi-sticky with sap and generally dirty which is all the more noticeable since his kimono is largely white; this makes him visibly cringe* "If you do not mind to terribly I would appreciate it..."

*One quiet night you happen to get the feeling that you are being observed from somewhere by someone with a strong sense of curiosity. Rui was perched in the branches of a nearby tree, watching you. He had yet to actually even see the infamous flower hashira even through his spiders and had only heard about her from other demons that had only caught fleeting glimpses, which on one hand was a good thing he supposed but on the other it had gotten him a bit more curious that usual and had been bothering him like an unreachable itch. He was already quite terrified of the insect hashira after the last raid and getting so deep into her territory was unnerving enough, but from what Rui could tell, Kanae actually seemed rather nice.*

She listened around for the demon that she felt nearby. She didn’t notice any malicious intent so she hoped that she’d be able to redeem and save it. She quietly wandered through the forest before vanishing and appearing next to Rui. “Hello there little on. Are you looking for me?” She smiles kindly at the young boy and inspects his appearance. He didn’t look too strong but looks can be deceiving.

[deconstructthesoup]

Realizing that the reason why Percy Jackson and Supergiant's Hades rank above a lot of other Greek myth adaptations for me is because they acknowledge that Greek mythology is a story about intergenerational trauma and abuse

[lightningidle]

Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...

You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.

And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?

(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)

Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?

You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.

You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.

[tardxsblues]

[spielzeugkaiser]

Perhaps some Cherik if you're fond of Xmen?

Or Hua Cheng and Xie Lian from TGCF for that juicy love story?

I feel like a sommelier, but ships instead of wine.

9/12 - Don't come into my house an make me care about Cherik in 2023 😭😭 Seriously this was my first ship ever, this is where I learned to sail!! And at the time I didn't really draw yet, I'm. Excuse me I feel a need and emotions 🥺🥺

[outlying-hyppocrate]

well. did you fucking miss me.

[fisheito]

snakes have something called a jacobson's organ that allows them to smell. they stick out their tongue, and then when it enters their mouth again, the jacobson's organ processes what they just smelled with their tongue. i say this to propose that, after yakumo licks eiden's dick for a good 10 minutes, he closes his mouth and processes it all like O_____O

when i TELL YOU that this message left me bracing the wall like

(overwhelmed with positive affect)

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[milfweiwuxian]

I truly understand the phrase "house poor" now OTL

[did-i-do-this-write]

Oh god I've made a horrible mistake

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Translated almost 4k words today 🎉🎉

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: August 25

“Waterloo” by ABBA

[apollo-zero-one]

Singing employment paperwork be like "I, Legal Name I Don't Identify With, of not particularly sound mind nor especially able body, agree under coercion of society and so not exactly of my own volition, to give This Job all of my spoons and then some 5-7 days a week, in exchange for not enough money to move out of my parents house."