#Human hair extensions for hair loss

[hairstyleoriginals-007]

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[jcmarchi]

For healthy hearing, timing matters

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/for-healthy-hearing-timing-matters/

For healthy hearing, timing matters

When sound waves reach the inner ear, neurons there pick up the vibrations and alert the brain. Encoded in their signals is a wealth of information that enables us to follow conversations, recognize familiar voices, appreciate music, and quickly locate a ringing phone or crying baby.

Neurons send signals by emitting spikes — brief changes in voltage that propagate along nerve fibers, also known as action potentials. Remarkably, auditory neurons can fire hundreds of spikes per second, and time their spikes with exquisite precision to match the oscillations of incoming sound waves.

With powerful new models of human hearing, scientists at MIT’s McGovern Institute for Brain Research have determined that this precise timing is vital for some of the most important ways we make sense of auditory information, including recognizing voices and localizing sounds.

The open-access findings, reported Dec. 4 in the journal Nature Communications, show how machine learning can help neuroscientists understand how the brain uses auditory information in the real world. MIT professor and McGovern investigator Josh McDermott, who led the research, explains that his team’s models better-equip researchers to study the consequences of different types of hearing impairment and devise more effective interventions.

Science of sound

The nervous system’s auditory signals are timed so precisely, researchers have long suspected that timing is important to our perception of sound. Sound waves oscillate at rates that determine their pitch: Low-pitched sounds travel in slow waves, whereas high-pitched sound waves oscillate more frequently. The auditory nerve that relays information from sound-detecting hair cells in the ear to the brain generates electrical spikes that correspond to the frequency of these oscillations. “The action potentials in an auditory nerve get fired at very particular points in time relative to the peaks in the stimulus waveform,” explains McDermott, who is also associate head of the MIT Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences.

This relationship, known as phase-locking, requires neurons to time their spikes with sub-millisecond precision. But scientists haven’t really known how informative these temporal patterns are to the brain. Beyond being scientifically intriguing, McDermott says, the question has important clinical implications: “If you want to design a prosthesis that provides electrical signals to the brain to reproduce the function of the ear, it’s arguably pretty important to know what kinds of information in the normal ear actually matter,” he says.

This has been difficult to study experimentally; animal models can’t offer much insight into how the human brain extracts structure in language or music, and the auditory nerve is inaccessible for study in humans. So McDermott and graduate student Mark Saddler PhD ’24 turned to artificial neural networks.

Artificial hearing

Neuroscientists have long used computational models to explore how sensory information might be decoded by the brain, but until recent advances in computing power and machine learning methods, these models were limited to simulating simple tasks. “One of the problems with these prior models is that they’re often way too good,” says Saddler, who is now at the Technical University of Denmark. For example, a computational model tasked with identifying the higher pitch in a pair of simple tones is likely to perform better than people who are asked to do the same thing. “This is not the kind of task that we do every day in hearing,” Saddler points out. “The brain is not optimized to solve this very artificial task.” This mismatch limited the insights that could be drawn from this prior generation of models.

To better understand the brain, Saddler and McDermott wanted to challenge a hearing model to do things that people use their hearing for in the real world, like recognizing words and voices. That meant developing an artificial neural network to simulate the parts of the brain that receive input from the ear. The network was given input from some 32,000 simulated sound-detecting sensory neurons and then optimized for various real-world tasks.

The researchers showed that their model replicated human hearing well — better than any previous model of auditory behavior, McDermott says. In one test, the artificial neural network was asked to recognize words and voices within dozens of types of background noise, from the hum of an airplane cabin to enthusiastic applause. Under every condition, the model performed very similarly to humans.

When the team degraded the timing of the spikes in the simulated ear, however, their model could no longer match humans’ ability to recognize voices or identify the locations of sounds. For example, while McDermott’s team had previously shown that people use pitch to help them identify people’s voices, the model revealed that that this ability is lost without precisely timed signals. “You need quite precise spike timing in order to both account for human behavior and to perform well on the task,” Saddler says. That suggests that the brain uses precisely timed auditory signals because they aid these practical aspects of hearing.

The team’s findings demonstrate how artificial neural networks can help neuroscientists understand how the information extracted by the ear influences our perception of the world, both when hearing is intact and when it is impaired. “The ability to link patterns of firing in the auditory nerve with behavior opens a lot of doors,” McDermott says.

“Now that we have these models that link neural responses in the ear to auditory behavior, we can ask, ‘If we simulate different types of hearing loss, what effect is that going to have on our auditory abilities?’” McDermott says. “That will help us better diagnose hearing loss, and we think there are also extensions of that to help us design better hearing aids or cochlear implants.” For example, he says, “The cochlear implant is limited in various ways — it can do some things and not others. What’s the best way to set up that cochlear implant to enable you to mediate behaviors? You can, in principle, use the models to tell you that.”

[haircarecetres-blog]

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[tojisun]

dunno where this came from bc i honestly just wanted a short ramble and not smthn long but here we are :'D this is an extension from my rambling yesterday about simon x reader but it's a dowry of blood au (brides of dracula retelling). i havent finished the book yet tbh but if ur planning on reading it, i do just wanna give a warning that it's dark and prose-heavy

cw: death/massacre; blood drinking; vampire-turning and stuff; inaccurate references to dracula lore

the village is gone. burnt. fire crackles amidst the broken hymns of the dead—they don't sing, not anymore of course, but their losses are catastrophic. you never realized how the apocalypse could be so loud.

you stand at the centre of the chaos, bloodied. bruised. ruined. the lone survivor.

the only one who was lucky enough to be saved.

brought out from the pyre, you were dragged into the shadowed corners and hidden from the pillagers who slaughtered everyone you loved and everyone you knew. you shook in your grief, screams erupting from the base of your throat, but all were silenced by an ice-cold palm over your mouth.

"shh, little one," he said. the first of his words; the first of his kindness. "you must be quiet."

your fury sputtered into anguish, the loss descending to you like the first drop of snow. tears spring from your strained eyes, staining even his hand; you did not know how to compress the bloating agony that was pressing into your lungs. your only comfort was that he seemed to favour you enough to keep you safe, even if just for a moment. 

rain had fallen by then—it seemed like it knew that tragedy had struck this little place. it extinguished enough of the fire, washing away the smell of ashes and leaving only the pungence of iron. blood.

with it, your adrenaline wore off, and you began to feel the extent of your pain. of course, you were not unscathed, but you didn’t expect your body to be so brittle. 

you fell, tumbling into the muddy ground and right before his feet. you croaked in pain, lungs constricting. it was becoming a lot more difficult to breathe, to speak. you wondered why death came to you slowly.

he knelt down by your side, cold hand brushing away at your dirty hair. he was speaking to you softly, words passing through his lips in soft lilts. you struggled to hear him, your ears ringing, numb, as your mind pulsed in your skull.

you groaned, begging him to stop. to go away. you had nothing to pay him back with, nothing to entertain him, so you told him just as much. you told him to let you die in silence because how else could he save you?

“that is troubling,” was all he said, his words were rumbled from the depths of his chest like he hadn't used his voice in eons. 

you peeled your eyes open, wondering what it must be that he was after, then you finally saw what he was—pale skin gleaming underneath the moonlight with eyes dark like wine. he was not a human. he couldn’t have been one.

your mother told you tales of the wicked. of those cursed and abandoned by the almighty father—she told you of their beauty, of their wealth, of their hunger.

(they do not know how to love, she said as she tucked you underneath your sheets. they only know how to deceive.)

your body locked, heart congested with fear—your body knew then, didn’t it? that this being that held you close was far more terrifying than the invaders. that your body survived the fire, the greed of humanity, only to be devoured by the devil.

“please,” you whimpered, the will to live burning inside you once again. you didn’t care about the pillagers, you didn’t want their mercy, but this being. this creature of the dark, oh how you craved his clemency.

“please, save me.”

“i cannot save you,” he said. 

his hand fell to your throat, grasping it gently, almost reverently. he swiped his thumb along the expanse of your skin to feel the way you swallowed. 

“but i can help.”

you tried to reply, to beg once more, but the words could not be sounded out, your throat having been too ruined for any prayer. you shook with your desperation, turning your eyes to him to express your ragged hope. you prayed that he may see your plea. you prayed that he may bless you with his curse.

he smiled, fangs glinting before your eyes. then, he murmured, “of course.”

(mama? how do you know when your prayers are answered?

well, sometimes it starts off painful.

painful?

yes, little star. but then, it becomes euphoric. freeing. good suffering.)

his teeth tore into your skin, ripping apart the muscles as it hunted for the blood. you screamed, throat scratching at the intensity of your pain; it was unbearable, burning unlike that of fire, scalding as it slithered down your very being. something was happening then. something unholy. 

you were being remade. reshaped. taken apart one bloodied fragment at a time.

you felt like you were at the precipice of death, so close to the edge and into eternal damnation, but he would not let you. chained to his hunger, your body writhed underneath the extent of his power; burning. burning. burning.

he was your new pyre. 

he was hell.

you begged for anything to subdue the pain; for a touch kinder, warmer; for the ceasing of it all. 

and it did.

his lips left the sensitive patch of your neck, pulling away with a hummed smile as though it were ambrosia he was sucking out of you. you stared at his lips, stained with your blood, and, within a fraction of a heartbeat, unrelenting hunger coursed through you.

you yowled, your mind heavy and your body sore. you felt lost; you felt like you were drained and left as nothing but a shell of what you once were.

“good. that’s good,” he crooned, his eyes wrinkled in his joy. “this hunger is proof of your new life.”

he brought his wrist to his lips and bit into his own skin. the first puncture oozed out with blood; you watched it pool, beading, before it trickled down the length of his arm. your throat constricted, tongue heavy all of a sudden in your mouth.

a taste. you craved for a taste.

he smiled as he pressed his wrist to your lips. “go on,” he murmured. “drink.”

you were delirious, or you must be, for you to have listened to him—your weak hands grasped at his wounded arm, pulling it closer to your maw.

you drank. 

that experience of having the first drop on your tongue was indescribable. it was like you have never eaten before; like you have never been fed. never been nourished.

it was like anything that sustained you before had been erased from your memories; you don’t remember the taste of your mother’s cooking anymore, nor the sweets that your grandmother brought home with her for you on occasions when her mistress remembered to reward her, nor the milk from your father’s cows. 

every sweet memory was washed away by the blood pouring down your throat; every gulp a sinister promise of what would be irreversible.

your body sang, skin mending itself, and bones healing underneath torn muscles. numbness filtered in—it had never felt like salvation before.

lost in your new paradise, you didn't notice as your saviour cupped your cheek once more. his touch was gentle. it was kind.

he leant forward and kissed your forehead—a reward for surviving.

“my name’s simon,” he whispered, nuzzling you. “and you will be my bride, won’t you, my dark miracle?”

your mouth left his arm, reluctant but necessary, because even before he said his name, you knew he was your master. you knew that in exchange for this new life he’s cursed you with, you were to be obedient to him no matter what. 

you nodded, breathless and ragged.

“yes, my lord.”

[peaches2217]

Here’s a headcanon. Whats Mario’s favorite thing about Peach (both personality-wise and… physical 🤭)

Bless you Vee 🥹

Personality-wise, his favorite thing about her is her faith in people and her unflinching ability to trust. Mario’s a very kind person who believes that most people are inherently good, or at least contain the ability to be good; however, he’s also from Brooklyn and has a brother who’s been hurt one too many times, so while he’s open to giving everyone a chance, actually coming to trust someone is more difficult for him. He’s always happy to help or hang out! But you have to earn anything beyond that.

For Peach, however, it’s much simpler: you have to earn her loss of trust. She’s cautious, make no mistake, you have to be when you’re the leader of a nation. But she can look at someone, speak to them for a moment, and decide right away whether she trusts them or not, and her intuition is never wrong. That sort of insight and faith is something Mario admires deeply… not least of all because she extended that trust to him and his brother when they first met.

She had every right to be wary of two dazed, lost, and extremely confused humans stumbling into her kingdom, yet when they were brought before her, instead of throwing them out or placing them under supervision/observation, she heard them out and gave them food and shelter. Mario can’t say with any level of certainty that he would have done the same in her shoes. Some call her reckless extension of trust naïve. He calls it brave and humbling.

Physically, I think he’s so overwhelmed by her everything that there’s no one attribute he can single out as his favorite. Her eyes, bright and soft and full of cheer; her lips, plump and pink; her hair, long and thick enough to frame her body yet fine enough to sway in the breeze; and that’s just what’s on her head. Don’t even get him started on the neck down. Every last part of her is wonderful, both in their own merits and because they make up the whole entity that is Princess Peach, his best friend, the love of his life, and the most beautiful woman in existence.

[themurdochmemesteries]

Some surprise Malcoshi for @deadheaddaisy It's angsty, because that's what I do, but I hope you like it.

Also on ao3.

She finds him in the armoury, alone, picking apart a phase pistol. Exactly where she suspected he’d be. He has his back to her and doesn’t seem to hear her come in. Hoshi frowns. It’s not often one can catch the ever-perceptive Lieutenant Reed off guard, so she ensures her footsteps are loud as she walks closer. When he still doesn’t lift his head, she clears her throat.

He whirls around so suddenly he almost teeters off balance. Seeing her, he relaxes ever so subtly. “Hoshi,” he breathes.

“Hey, Malcolm.” For all her extensive vocabulary, Hoshi is, for once, at a loss for words. A dozen or so different things she could say crowd at the tip of her tongue—questions, apologies—but none of them feel right. So instead her eyes flick to the phase pistol lying in pieces on the desk. “What are you working on?”

Malcolm glances back, running his fingers through his hair. “Erm, replacing a power pack.”

“I see.”

He turns back around to face her. “Was there something you needed?”

“I just came to see if you were alright,” Hoshi says, and even as the words leave her lips, she notices Malcolm stiffen almost imperceptibly.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately.

Hoshi’s expression softens. “What you went through-”

“Was nothing.” And there’s another uncharacteristic moment, for Malcolm hardly ever interrupts anyone. “I’m fine,” he says again.

“Sure. But… it’s okay to not be, you know.”

“I know.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

Hoshi takes a deep breath. “Captain Archer told me. About your fear.”

And Malcolm stiffens again, his spine ramrod straight, jaw set, shoulders tense. “Is that so,” he bites out.

“The aliens… What they did was inexcusable. Regardless of whether or not ‘tests of strength’ are their tradition.”

“It was the only way to get them to talk to us.”

Hoshi frowns. “But we didn’t have to.”

“We needed the dilithium.” Malcolm turns back to the worktable, but Hoshi is nothing if not persistent—and stubborn.

“Someone else could have gone. But you volunteered. Why?”

Malcolm doesn’t answer.

Hoshi takes a step closer. “Why, Malcolm?”

Still not a word.

Hoshi grits her teeth, anger flooding through her—but not directed at the man she’s held secret affections for for the past two years. Towards the aliens who returned him to sickbay two days ago, sopping wet and borderline catatonic. “They locked you in a box and left you to drown!” she exclaims.

“I know that!” Malcolm hisses.

Hoshi grabs his shoulders and spins him around. “So why did you do it?”

He shuts his eyes.

She shakes him. “Why, Malcolm?”

He purses his lips, once again not responding.

“Do you know how difficult it was seeing you like that?” Hoshi whispers hoarsely.

He glances away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Tell me why.”

He’s silent for a moment, and Hoshi worries he’s not going to answer again, but then he opens his mouth.

“They told us, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link,” he says in a quiet voice. “If I couldn’t face my fears…” He swallows thickly, tears crowding at his eyes.

“You’re not weak,” Hoshi assures him. “It’s their system that’s bullshit.”

He shakes his head, hands coming up to rest on her own, which still grip his shoulders loosely. He hangs his head. “I cried for help,” he whispers. “When the water got too high. I cried out for someone to save me. I couldn’t handle it.”

“I’d do the same, if I was suddenly stuck in a shrinking box,” Hoshi points out.

“You’re not the security officer.”

“But we are both human.” She reaches up, cupping his face, and to her surprise he leans into it and closes his eyes. “We can’t help that.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. “I was scared…”

“I know,” she says.

And then suddenly he’s leaning forward, burying his face in the crook of her neck and soon Hoshi feels hot tears against her skin, dampening her uniform, and before she knows it her arms are wrapped around him. “It’s alright,” she murmurs, “no one can hurt you anymore,” and she holds him as he slumps in her arms and breaks down.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

hiiii I was wondering if I could request an outsiders (character of your choice) x reader. Like, them comforting reader after losing a friend. One of my friends sadly passed away to suicide recently and it’s mean a lot. Fly high Brady 🕊️🕊️

I'm am so sorry for your loss, stay strong ml

Summary: Darry comforts you after the loss of a friend

Warnings: suicide, death, heavy topics

Authors note: I chose darry because he'd be the best at comforting

There's little solace after loss. No grief turned comfort, no melancholy evenings of wishing, there's just raw, hard emotions that tear from the inside and bubbles in your throat like fresh poison. And it kills, a burden too heavy for one. It felt like everyone was peering at you from a distance, but no one was looking at you. Except Darry.

He found you by the lot sitting there numbly. Eyes glazed and teary and so incredibly recognizable, in the way you and him felt after the loss of someone important.

"Hey, Y/n," he said gently, sitting down next to you. You muttered out a quick hello back before spacing out again, head spiraling again.

"How ya feeling?" He asked, after a beat, turning to look at you.

You didn't respond, lips straightening to a thin line. Darry frowned, genuinely worried for you.

"Well, maybe I can help?" He asked, gently patting your hand.

"You wouldn't understand," you Saud, tears welling in your eyes.

"No, but I've dealt with similar things, and I really will try to understand" His smile was comforting, enveloping you in a warmth that calmed your thoughts a little. You sobbed harder.

"It's like everything is closing in on me" you shivered, body racking with sobs.

"Nothings closing in on you," Darry lifted your face up to meet his eyes.

"There's a lot that comes with death, and for me, there was this terrible sinking feeling that my world was collapsing. These emotions that you feel make us humans, but the way we grow past the bad ones makes us strong. You are so bright and talented, and so was your friend. It's up to you to make sure people remember that." He paused, wiping your tears.

" I think of people as an extension of the legacy everyone they've met left with them. In these little details, you'll find people that you love. You are forever carrying that piece of them with you. Their ideas, their talents, their likes, and their dislikes. You hold them with you forever." He stroked your hair as you sniffled.

Eventually, the air blew colder and Darry offered you a ride back to your house.

"No, not there," you said quietly, "I can't be there tonight,".

"Then how about I brew you up some tea, and you can stay at mine tonight," he offered. A warmth seeped into your chest again, and you nodded.

[soltheocracy]

The road to perfection

In which Albedo is too attached to his darling to let them go, no matter what.

He’s done it. He’s finally done it.

With an undisclosed liquid dripping down his forearms and powdered chalk coating his gloved hands, he leans over his creation. His creation, concieved of fear and obsession.

His poor, pitiful darling, ever so generous, so kind, loyal, perfect, and still so terribly ill-fated. It is truly the fate of all mortal creatures by nature, he knows all too well. Afterall, there’s no stopping the hand of Celestia when it extends towards you, intended on taking you away.

He watched your body deteriorate by time, clutching your wrinkled hand tightly as your conscience peacefully drifts away from you. Laying in the arms of your beloved, you pass on, unaware of the lives your fleeting presence will influence and consequently bring to ruin.

Your abscence left an abysmal void in him. How could a human come and nestle themselves so deep into his heart, only to leave without his explicit permission? Wallowing in despair at the loss of his beloved, he wandered the streets of Khaenri’ah as if the never-ending stroll would exhaust his being and he’d eventually join you in the afterlife.

But then he saw you again. Sure, you looked different in a few ways; your hair wasn’t as shiny as before. Oh, Archons it wasn’t even the same color, but it had to be you.

Approaching the person in a feverish manner only to be met by denial and rejection, Albedo was stunned into silence, looking at the extension of you he had falsely put together in his mind with a cold glare. Surely you’re just confused, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You love him.

Even after his relentless efforts, ‘you’ still continued to deny him. ‘You’ shut down his advances each time he tried as much as touch you; but that’s all he craves, beloved. And if you won’t let him do whatever his heart wishes, then he might resort to taking unsavory actions.

————————

But he couldn’t. No matter how much you resisted him, he could never hurt you. So, with a heavy heart and shaking hands, he let you slip away from him once again. And so, the cycle continued over centuries.

It continued until it didn’t. He had enough of going so far into your relationships, only for you to selfishly leave him to suffer in his ever-consuming loneliness.

But no longer would he stand for this. If his beloved thought they could escape him using natural causes as an excuse, he would prove them wrong. He would go above and beyond for his beloved, no matter what it took.

No matter what kinds of crimes against humanity and even Celestia itself he had to commit, he couldn’t even care for the divine punishment he was bound to receive once word of his experimentation got out.

He would make his darling permanent. He only needed to figure out how to make them perfect.

————————

He always did like Starsilver. The colour of it- when extracted- could make an elegant hue of blue for his portraits. The leftover grains from the mineral gives texture, personality; something that his creation lacked so far, but he was determined to change that.

You didn’t even have the consciousness to form a single thought. Perhaps he should keep you this way. So pliant and motionless, without a single urge to resist his desires, but then again, he does miss having meaningful conversations with you.

This way, you’ll be just like him! The perfect couple, isn’t it so romantic?

Caressing down your cold, artificial leg, he nuzzles his cheek into your still limb lovingly. Albedo marvels at the way your skin reflects the gleam of the frigid moonlight, the way your hair - which he religiously combs day after day- cascades around the stone table you were laid on.

He can barely wait until you wake up.

————————

Although you gained your conscience only a moment ago, your eyelids felt so heavy you couldn’t open your eyes. As sound slowly fades in, you hear quiet humming accompanied by glasses clicking against eachother. The freezing temperatures that would otherwise bite your skin now feel merely comfortably cool, the air filling your aching lungs stung as if you haven’t taken a breath in a million years.

Unbeknownst to you, during your painful inhale, you let out a strained gasp. You only realized your mistake when the humming stopped and pure silence set in.

Your breathing -however excruciating it feels- accelerates in panic, the rise and fall of your chest giving you away clearly. You dare not open your eyes in fear of what you might see once you do.

But you couldn’t hear anything other than your own hushed breathing. No humming, no glasses, footsteps… No sort of sound whatsoever. Perhaps whatever put you on edge has been finally driven away by your presence. Waiting for a few more moments in anticipation of something, anything happening, but still nothing.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with a face only inches away from you. Albedo’s hair frames his face and drapes down, tickling your skin. His dazed, icy eyes gaze into yours, as if searching for a soul.

“You’re finally awake, my beloved.”

“I missed you.”

“Welcome back~”

[doodle-pops]

Just a thought popped into my head, since elves have such a signifigance toward their hair, what would the elves think If their hair gets cut off by the enemy or severaly damaged and their s/o used their own hair to make a wig or extensions for their elven lover? (You know since for a human s/o hair would probably not be a big deal)

You know that moment when Rapunzel got her hair cut off? Right. Picture Mother Gothel’s reaction as the elves when their “precious, beautiful” hair got chopped off (even for an inch) 😅. I mean, Tolkien heavily specified that elves have an entire category just for ✨️hair✨️, which we all are aware of. The extra distance to let others know of the high beauty standards they have.

Anyway, before I get carried away. For your question; I see them rather…displeased at your decision because, after all, their hair would grow back eventually. Yes, all their years of caring for their hair and efforts to maintain their beauty standards got cut (pun intended) in a matter of seconds. And while it was touching (which was acknowledged) that you thought about making a wig for them using your hair, in their eyes, it was rather…unnecessary.

Although, you can both regrow your hair at the same time. ✨️couple goals✨️.

Hair overall, both elves and mortals (in Tolkien’s world and at that period), holds great significance. So in my opinion, I don’t see any of them being (immediately) touched by the act, nor do I picture them wearing the wig (wearing your hair makes them feel more guilty cuz if theirs didn’t get chopped off, then likewise yours). Perhaps after a while, they would show better understanding, once you express how much you thought the act would have meant to them if they could “have” long hair again until it regrew. However, they still wouldn’t approve of you making a drastic act like that. You're getting scolded 🫠

I believe they would have looked forward to you comforting them and giving reassurance that the hair loss didn’t strip away their beauty, strength and power. They were still the same as you always saw them and it would never change. Give them a boost of confidence to not hate their appearance and remain positive.

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Sitri Attacker Card - Chapter Six (Finale)

TW: Oh, we’re getting angst again, Morax being a wholesome bbygirl, MC comes clean about her motives, A whole lot of crying and confiding

——————————————————

Paradise Lost

Once the trio reached Paradise Lost, Sitri and Ra-On were led into separate rooms. Marbas set about getting Ra-On an antidote for the aphrodisiacs, before letting her have some rest.

Meanwhile, despite Sitri’s protests, Morax had used his healing powers to absorb the deep scratches and bites that littered his upper body.

“There! All done! How are you feeling?”

Sitri couldn’t help but inwardly grimace at the kind-hearted devil. He took on too much of Hell’s pain in this war, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t take it too far.

“Feeling a lot better, thank you. Where’s Solomon resting?”

Morax paused to glance at a clipboard on his desk, bandaged fingers tracing down rows of patients until he found the line he was looking for.

“Ah, she’s in Room 49. Would you like directions?”

Sitri shook his head, not wanting the constantly injured devil to exert himself further.

“I’ll manage by myself. Thank you again, and please, take care of yourself.

Sitri quickly left the room, teacup in hand. The smell of disinfectant stung his nose as he paced the corridors, until he reached the room where Solomon was resting. He opened the door quietly.

Ra-On was laid in the pristine hospital bed, blanket pulled up to her armpits. She flicked through a book, unaware of the company she had.

Sitri crossed the room, before sitting on the edge of the bed. Something had been plaguing his thought since he arrived in Paradise Lost, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Solomon?”

Ra-On’s eyelids flickered upwards, greeted by the sight of the blue-haired devil before her. She set her book aside and was about to speak before Sitri cut to the chase.

“Solomon, I have a question for you.”

The human shuffled to sit upright, curiosity marking her features. She nodded, a sign for Sitri to continue.

He took a second before enquiring, curiosity with a hint sadness obvious in his tone,

“I recall that you said earlier that you took that medicine to fake your own death, to see what would happen. What did you mean?”

Ra-On swallowed hard and glanced away, to hide the tears that brimmed on the corners of her eyes. It was time for her to confess, though she was afraid of the consequences that would spark from her words.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous but I… I wanted to see who you would mourn…”

She choked out a sob, unable to stop the tears now.

“I thought that if I had passed away, who would you mourn? Me? Or Solomon? 

Everyone has been so nice to me since I got here, but I feel like no-one is trying to get to know me, they just want to play catch-up with Solomon.

I was afraid that my existence means nothing; that I’m just an extension of the man loved by all.

What hurt the most was… You… You called his name over and over, even during sex…”

She couldn’t look Sitri in the eyes now. Her soul was exposed to him, her emotions in a state of vulnerability that she never thought she’d experience.

But the devil’s actions surprised her the most. 

Sitri pulled her into a tight hug, allowing the human to seek refuge in the warmth of his firm chest. Her cries vibrated through his body as she returned the embrace just as tightly.

“Solomon… No. You’re Ra-On. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. Please forgive me.”

His chin settled on the top of her head, while his hands comfortingly rubbed her back.

“It’s been hard for all of us, you see. Your ancestor may have been gone since 931 BC in your world, but for us devils, it’s only been 100 years.”

Tears started falling onto the top of Ra-On’s head as Sitri recalled the loss of Solomon.

“I know that 100 years is a lifetime for you and other humans. But most of us devils are centuries old. It… For me it only feels like a short time ago when I last saw him alive. I’m sorry Ra-On.”

The human tilted her head up to look at him. She couldn’t help but quietly marvel at how pretty the devil looked, even when tears streamed down his face. Without thinking, she reached up to wipe his tears away.

“Hey. It’s okay. I can’t begin to understand how you feel, I’ve never known the loss of someone who could have been my ‘forever’. Although I lost my parents a few years ago, and it pains me to know that they’ll miss out on so much of my life. I still miss them greatly, they’re always in my thoughts.”

Sitri gazed at the human in his embrace, biting his lip slightly. Now it was his turn to confess, as he leaned into her hand.

“Sol- No. Ra-On. I really like you. More so than just calling this a friendship with sexual benefits. I…I’m trying to love you for who you truly are, and not the man I lost, who you painfully remind me of…

…I just need you to be patient with me. Please.”

Ra-On settled her head against his shoulder, grasping him tighter than before.

“It’ll take some time, Sitri. But I’m here. I promise.”

[bunnyuki]

UNSAID WORDS. toge inumaki

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ) gift for: @darlingspeach

CW!! AFAB READER, she/her pronouns. au fantasy/medieval. toge is a dragon, reader is a human. mentions of slaughtering/people dying/hunting. mentions of blood and injuries. he doesn't understand much of human language. this is very short and silly, i apologize. SFW, FLUFF.

YOU DON’T SEE as many dragons around as you used to. the kings of the earth and the heavens were destroyed by greed. their wings were struck by spears and cannons, their blood was collected and tested as a product. the rich wear their scales at dinner parties, because they become necklaces and delicacies. their teeth became hunters’ trophies. dragons had nothing against humanity, but humans had a desire to have everything. their ruin brought that of other peoples.

and so, the remaining dragons fled. running from the world, choosing the loneliest places to call home. deprived of reliable companions, of their companions with wings, dealing with the losses of their loved ones. nothing was left for them but memories and bones. so disappeared that they became merely legends.

fantastic stories that parents told their children to amaze them, or scare them. false and lying stories for merchants desperate to sell their products cheaply. one of the strongest, most influential and powerful races in the world. reduced to nothing more than tales. a small belief spread among the dragons. humans were dirty. rotten, spoiled. disgusting creatures that cared about nothing. the sick apple that would rot the rest of the basket. by extension, hatred for those creatures that had barely sustained themselves for a century grew. humans who encountered dragons and their treasures did not come out alive to tell the story. and no one heard from them again.

life in a village is not easy. taxes are merciless, and nobles drown in champagne while families in your village count coins to find out if they can eat. you are not exempt from this. the marquis who controls the region is obsessed with more amounts of money. the village has been going through difficulties, and with winter approaching, some have already said their goodbyes. people will die. that is a fact. for the king and his court, nothing more than numbers.

the sweet embrace of death comes to seek everyone, eventually. this is the mortal life. but that’s not how you’ll end up. huddled in a bed, on a cold morning, praying to a god who wouldn’t listen to you. you refuse. that will not be your end.

plantings have been disappointing. food becomes scarcer every day, and from what it looks like, this will be a year with lots of snow and abundant hunger. and for this reason, a good deal of adapted hunting became the main source of food and income.

the local forests are dark, specks in the middle of nowhere that is your village. full of trees and animals that need to hide from people like you. like a squirrel collecting dried fruit and nuts. all you have is a rusty knife, a crossbow with five arrows, and faith. not in god, not in greater forces. all you need is yourself.

the traps you planted exist in strategic points. hidden by grass and branches, abusing the natural environment to create the illusion of safety. merely for a noose to tighten around the body of a small animal, or a bear trap to bend into a cruel bite.

checking the traps daily has become part of the routine. just as many other villagers were forced to adapt, so were you. the skins are usually removed and worn by you. or sold.

instead of finding a small animal split in half by your bear trap, what’s in front of you now is a boy. a young one. maybe your age. his purple eyes seem to contain decades of wisdom you couldn’t dream of. his hair has an abnormal tone, like a very pale shade of blonde. he turns over and groans, his ankle caught in the trap. the metal teeth dig deeper into the flesh every time he moves, and the blood is thick and red.

but what really draws attention to him are his horns. and the tail. highs rising from the forehead and rising, white like the snow that will soon fall, with purplish tips. the same pattern for the long, tail full of scales. his nails are sharper than normal. when he opens his mouth to groan in pain, his teeth look like fangs. around his mouth, there's a strange pattern that doesn't seem to be a painting, but his skin. snake eyes and fangs.

he raises his arms to try to open the trap and free himself. the skin on the forearms has traces of scales of the same whitish tone.

his first instinct seeing you is hissing. actual hissing. like a scared snake, ready to pounce. the reaction of a scared, injured animal. you— pity him.

of course, you shouldn't. legends about dragons make it very clear what they think of your species. this boy would make you a forgotten corpse once he had the chance. but that didn't seem true. he was scared. alone, lost. his ankle caught in a trap that hurt more every moment. contrary to common sense, you choose to put the beast down and follow your instinct. approaching slowly, with your hands raised.

“easy there.” another hiss. it's a clear message. stay away. your steps are slow and you show that you are not holding any weapons. “i'm not going to hurt you. i'll help.”

no matter how sweet and loving you force your voice to be, the distrust in his eyes doesn't go away. you crouch before the stranger, staring for a moment. he is a pretty boy. you can't deny that.

your hands grip the bear trap, and you look him in the eyes. “I'm going to open this, and you're going to take your foot off. all good? on three. one. two. three.”

at the end of the count, you muster the strength your hungry muscles allow you to open the bear trap. the stranger quickly understands the message and moves away from it, allowing you to let the metal go without consequences. his hands release the trap, and it closes again with a click. the metal resonates as it strikes itself. there is fresh blood on his fingers and on the trap, and his face turns to look at the boy.

he's sitting by a tree, grabbing his injured ankle with a groan. you approach slowly again, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“hey. hey, i'm not going to hurt you. okay? i promise. just let me help.” he frowns at your words, his lips parting to reply in a language you do not know. oh, well. this can be complicated.

“i don't— i don't understand.” you pause, moving to sit besides him. he furrows his brows, but doesn't say a word. “can you understand what i am saying?”

by his pout and frown, you think the answer is no. okay. what to do now, then? you quickly point to yourself, pronouncing your name out loud. then again, slowly. he repeats, the sound beautiful on his tongue. his pronunciation is a little bad at first, but the third time he's repeating it, he seems to have understood.

he follows the example, pointing to himself. “toge.” he states, and your eyes narrow.

“toge. okay. i think that's your name. you are injured.” you point out to his ankle, and he stares at you for a moment. if he could speak your language, you are sure he would be sarcastic right now. oh, don't say.

you gesture nervously, trying to sign you wish to help. after almost ten minutes of denying and hesitation, he holds out his injured foot to you. your hands are gentle, and you don't touch the injured area unless you have to. he hisses and groans in pain.

toge stares at you, decided to say something. his lips part, and he sounds confident when he says. “salmon.” you frown.

“what?”

he repeats again. salmon. seaweed. tuna mayonnaise. he only talks about...ingredients? toge is desperately trying to tell you something, confused why you don't understand the message. then it clicks. oh.

“you only know ingredient names. that's all you know in my language.” you murmur. he nods slowly, and you sigh. communicating like this won't be impossible, but it will prove itself as a challenge. but these thoughts are for later. he is injured. because of you.

it's your obligation to help this young dragon — secretly. the people in the village would take every last drop of his blood for gold coins. you'll have to improvise. “okay. uhh. does it hurt much?”

he pauses. “salmon?” another sigh escapes your lips.

this will be complicated.

[themushroomofdeath]

characters: eliza beaufoy (original character) x trafalgar d. water law fluffy, nsfw. morning sex, unprotected sex, rotting sugary of a fluff

sooo, people liked the one i posted, so I guess you can have more Ellaw, if you want? might post her profile if anyone want to see too. MINORS, BE GONE. 🔫

It was rare, those mornings in the Polar Tang. Lazy days where the heart pirates could spend unwinding in bed for a little longer, instead of immediately getting up to a day full of work. It was even more rare for their captain to accept the prospect of doing the same, letting his mind be consumed by anything other than planning and working.

But the hand threading through his silky strands of hair is just convincing enough to keep him from leaving the tranquility of his current position. Eyes still closed, even breath moving his chest ever so gently, nose unconsciously nuzzling against the pillowy skin of his lover’s bosom, holding her body close to his own - he was just content to accept this form of affection for the time being.

And to her, he never looked more beautiful. She learned to love him with any mask he would take - the stoic pirate, the genius surgeon, the man who refused to show weakness, the child-like nature of his eyes when finding a new collectible - even the endless mood swings at time, but most of all, she loved his peaceful and vulnerable state. Moments he seemed to reserve to her and him only, a shared secret closed behind locked doors. Trafalgar Law had moments of humanity too, despite popular belief.

There was pleasant warmth running through her veins, endless devotion from just gazing at his serene expression, enough affection to fill an ocean from holding him so close to her heart and knowing he was protected. He was so very precious, if only he could feel the extension of her love for him, never would he doubt the worth he had in this world, ever again.

Hand tired, she let it rest against the nape of his neck, choosing to adjust her body in his grip, just enough to reach for his forehead and temples with her lips, leaving a trail of deliberate kisses, trying to convey all her tenderness in the wake of her motions. She could feel him stir with that, but no protest came, only a content exhale - acceptance. 

Smiling at that, she hummed a response, moving to kiss each of his eyelids, each side of his nose and each cheekbone and cheek, earning a tilt of his head by the end, to be able to finally reach his full lips, leisurely taking her time with it, hand reaching to run gingerly through his sideburns, sharing one breath together.

Just sharing kisses and caresses for long lazy minutes, his free hand now joining to wander the expanse of her plushy thigh, to gently squeezing the fat on her hips and backside, repeating the motion enough to earn a little nip to his lower lip and a leg to almost instinctively reach around his own, pulling him in close. Pulling back ever so slightly, she could see that his eyes were now open, burning amber boring into her chocolate ones, faintly unfocused from just waking up, but pupils already blowing wide with desire. As it didn’t matter how many years they shared those acts of intimacy, he would feel just as addicted to her touches and warm skin, as the first time he allowed himself to feel them.

And how could he feel anything less than overpowered by those feelings, when her soothing voice, paired with a loving smile, reached his ears with a “Morning, love.” He could only hum an answer, too absorbed in the soft glow from the morning sun lighting her features, too enamored with her to give a coherent answer. Not that words were ever easy for him, at least not those of love or affection, too used to rejecting the concept of it, always stern and reserved, opting to hold an air of indifference - guarding his heart from the familiar feeling of loss. 

But to the one who has been gradually melting his icy walls, he would try and swallow the first instinct of fighting, allowing the warmth to consume his being, reaching to brush a path of tender kisses against the column of her throat, nonverbal language to each touch of his lips. Good Morning, My Heart. I love you. Thank You for Existing. I’m Safe With You.But not for long, as softness was never his speciality, and the temptation to graze and nip his teeth to the tender flesh was ever growing, the want to mark her as his own, suck a path of bruises to her collarbone, changing their position to lie atop her body, hips lazily rolling against each other, a need to release all those feelings into action. 

Answers to his ministrations came in the form of voluptuous thighs coming up to meet his sides, legs meeting behind his waist, looking for more friction between clothed sexes - just few barriers between them, as summer days kept them from wearing more than underwear to bed.  A sink of his teeth to the softness of her left breast and well placed thrust of his length against her still covered folds, and the nonverbal ritual came to an end. A moan, whimpered little sounds could be heard, a string of pleads for more - and who was he to deny it? His body was more hers than his, long tattooed fingers ready to please, reaching between them to rub her increasingly wet arousal, smirking proudly to himself, with how quick her body reacted. Adorable, was what she was. Moving back to observe her entirely, how her mouth hangs open with barely audible whimpers, pink blush adorning her  cheeks to her heaving chest, hips trying to meet the movement of his fingers - to which he pushes one, two, inside her entrance, marked thumb rubbing against sensitive nub, earning praises and moans. “A-ah, yes… Please. Yes. You are so good to me, Law.” Absolutely maddening.

“Take it off.” A simple command, one she didn’t really need to question, already knowing, her fingers reaching to unclasp the piece of clothing that kept her sensitive parts from his sharp gaze, freeing her heavy breasts from their confines, before reaching down to help take both bottom parts of their attires. 

Normally he would take the time with her, make her come on his fingers at least once, perhaps stimulating his tongue against her folds for another orgasm, before finally pushing inside her. But today felt different, he felt consumed with desire and ardor, wishing to be the closest possible to her body, leaning to her welcoming arms, hugging impossibly close, allowing her to be to one maneuver their bodies and guide his arousal to her entrance, letting himself sink inside in one languid move, gritting his teeth to control himself, from the sheer pleasure pooling within his lower abdomen from the warmth enveloping his girth.

Contrasting with her partner, Eliza freely let herself feel the contact, eyes closed and head thrown against the pillows under it, toes curling and hands reaching up to grab sturdy shoulders to anchor herself, mouth yet again falling open to babblering encouragements and praises. 

Taking a slow pace, position allowing for unhurried hip movements, lips and tongues dancing around each other, taking their time for once, too absorb to the tender embrace, allowing the moment to be more love making than simple sex. 

If he couldn’t already tell how much her feelings meant, with those intimate acts, Eliza seemed set on making sure he knew. As soon as his head fell to her shoulder, her voice met his ears, siren song driving him mad, too unused to the overwhelming feeling of adoration from her words. “I love you, do you know that? Mhmm. So, so much. My heart. A-ah. My only one. I want to be yours till my last breath, Law.” 

The way his position changed, hands coming up to reach for her thighs, pushing them up for easier access to drive faster into her, seemed to speak about how he wished her to stop talking. But she knew him enough to know, he just wouldn’t last long with all those feelings involved. And she didn’t mind, what mattered was how he absorbed her loving words, how his harsh actions did nothing to appease the slight shine of tears forming on his golden eyes, dark blush to run through his features - he was not used to this. It was too much, too tender, too much hope in unconditional love and a future together.

“Fuuuuck.” He growled as the pace quickened, he wanted to truly devour her, make her one with him and never let this feeling go. She gave him everything he ever needed all those years, if not more, and as an answer, he could just fuck into her harder, seeking the release from this overwhelming unfamiliar sensation. Reaching a hand to pour his fingers inside her mouth, which she gladly accepted, warm tongue rolling around them, wetting it - words of devotion shifting into filthy noises, to loud whimpers and moans, when those same fingers reached down to rub her puffy clit, all tenderness forgot for the moment, only the feeling of a knot ready to burst inside her belly. She was close, and so was he, as his voice rasped with pleas of “C’mon, 'Liz, come for me. Be a good girl for me. So good, so tight ‘round my cock.”

Devoted woman that she was, she did what he wanted from her. Legs convulsing with the stimulation, when he didn’t stop rubbing her sensitive nub nor the pounding inside her folds, loud orgasm hitting from the intensity of all feelings bursting from her chest and the right places being stroked again and again.  And not long, there was the warm filling of his seed spreading inside her, the pirate allowing himself to finish with a throaty moan, doing his best to not simply fall with all his weight over his lover, lowering himself to his elbows to sustain his body over her.

A moment to simply breath, gazing at each other, before her arms reached for him, bringing his body to meet hers anyway, to each he gladly accept, relaxing and circling his arms around her waist, head resting against her chest, ear able to listen to her heartbeats becoming stable again. His heart, he thought. 

He never said anything that morning, but to the woman who was back to her job of lovingly grazing her fingers through his now sweaty strands of hair and murmuring tender words, he promised to fight God and the Devil to keep her forever safe in his arms.

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well, Part 18

{"Don't know how much more I can take. I just know that I need to get better."}

Cw for some descriptive very mild gore? Just throwing it out there.

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

All Too Well Masterlist

Part 17

Suguru Geto was not well.

He hadn't been, since that summer. And he was only falling further into the spiral.

The man who was hired to kill Riko was named Toji Fushiguro. Was named. That past tense was important to note, as he was no longer alive. Suguru later learned that, while he had dragged his body over to Miho to check for her pulse, Satoru had gone after the assassin. Refusing defeat and delirious from blood loss, the then sixteen year old Gojo heir had done what his peers failed to do and killed the man.

Miho was nearly dead when Satoru stumbled down there, pressing his hand to her chest to rush Reversed Cursed Energy through her body before he collapsed next to them. Suguru could do nothing but lie there between them, crying quietly. Praying to whatever god was listening. Begging for karma to take him instead of them.

The extensive damage Toji did to Miho's spinal cord had nearly paralyzed her. It took almost eight months for her to walk again with specialized care from the school doctor and Shoko. The doctors told her it was unlikely she'd ever walk without a cane.

Yes. Suguru Geto was, in fact, not well.

Everyone tried moving past it. Even Miho, who he cheered on as she was learning to walk again. Who still worried over him while telling him that she was fine, even though he caught her crying and telling Satoru she wasn't sure if she could continue physical therapy. And Satoru...he was leagues above them. The tether that had been holding him back with the rest of them had broke. The gap between his skill and Suguru's was wider than ever. They were no longer evenly matched. No longer the strongest. That was a title meant only for the white haired boy with the Six Eyes.

When Suguru tried to look at Miho, all he saw was her covered in blood. Blade striking through her chest, ripping through flesh and bone. He could still hear it. The sicking crack of her ribs shattering, the splash of her blood against the floor as it gushed out of her. She couldn't remember, but he did. At night, when he closed his eyes, he saw her lying on the ground, glassy eyes staring lifelessly at him.

"Even with those blessings, you two were still beaten by a monkey like me who can't even use cursed energy."

He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Something dark had been stirring in deep in his chest for so long. It was forcing itself up his throat and out of his mouth. A nasty, acidic, bile-like taste for humanity. A humanity that used children like weapons. That protected the weak and held back the strong. That sacrificed innocent, bright lives for the sake of Jujustu society. And the humanity that required those sacrifices for the simple sake of keeping the calm-

A loud knock on the door roused him from his endless session of staring at the wall. Suguru looked over at the door before rolling back over in bed. They'd go away soon.

The door opened. Light flooded the dim room. Three shadows peeked in.

"Suguru?" Satoru asked quietly, poking his head in. He looked over at the bed. "Hey, man. Mind if we stop by?"

Suguru rolled over to face him. He tried his best to give him a smile, but it was tired. "Of course."

He knew he looked different. Gaunt. Exhausted. He briefly wondered if his appearance would scare them off. But Satoru came in anyway, followed by Shoko. He heard the soft tap tap of Miho's crutches as she slowly made her way into the room. She had cut her hair recently. It hung to her shoulders now, sweeping to the side. She was cute. Suguru knew that, under their clothes and even further under their muscles and bones, both his girlfriend and boyfriend had scars that would never quite heal.

Satoru sat down on the side of the bed. "You okay?"

His voice was soft. Gentle. I'm here, it said. I see you.

Shoko reached over his bed to open the window. Sunlight filtered in, lazy and warm. She opened the window and took a seat on the sill.

"We're worried about you," she said, lighting a cigarette. She held it out to him. He took it and nodded to her in thanks.

Suguru sat up, patting Satoru's hand. He pulled his legs up, making room for Miho. Satoru took her crutches from her and set them down before helping her onto the bed. Suguru noted the pain that flickered across her face as she moved. Miho straightened her face, smiling at him with that beautiful, welcoming smile.

"We're here for you, Suguru," Miho said, reaching out to grab his hand.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "You're the one we should be worried about, Miho. I'm fine-"

"You're horrible at lying," Satoru scoffed.

He took a hit of the cigarette, holding it in for a second before slowly exhaling. His friends were looking at him. Watching him carefully.

"I'm just...struggling," he admitted finally, "I've been having nightmares again...about him."

The four of them sat in silence for a moment. Miho squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. So he did. He told them about his nightmares, the spiral he was falling into. Maybe it was the cigarette, or the way they all hung on to his every word, but getting it all out there felt good. He couldn't see a way out. That's what he said.

"...by a monkey like me who can't even use cursed energy."

But he knew what he needed to do.

"If you want to live a long life, you'll remember that."

He couldn't take it any longer. Something in his subconscious snapped.

[soulless-computerbug]

Physiology of the Hivemind - The "Hardware"

The physical body of the hivemind is that of an androgynously human figure, approximately 5'9 in height with a lean build. Despite the size of the body, it is unexpectedly light, as the skeleton and framework of the body is made from aluminum and hollow steel, with hollow supports and a lightweight server and motherboard that houses the digitized souls. The external body itself is a synthetic crystalline structure, lightweight and mostly stable and strong. When damaged, the crystal can be induced to regrow and regenerate injuries, albeit after the appropriate time has passed. The crystalline body is colorless and mostly featureless, with a translucent pearly luster. The material itself is able to catch and refract light, and is connected to the internal wiring of the hivemind's "nervous system", that allows the user in front to change the appearance of their body via a light projection. The physical shape of the body can be minutely adjusted as well, to slightly change height, build, and body shape, but not very much. The body is constantly cooled with a plasma/antifreeze blend of synthetic chemical that is pumped through its body like a circulatory system. When damaged, this fluid can leak out and cause the body to overheat and cause internal damage. The fluid can be internally reconstituted by ingesting water.

The main server that houses the digitized souls is found in the chest cavity, bolted and protected under a lightweight steel rib cage. It consists of a set of motherboards and connected chips wired to both a power supply located near the heart, and storage components housing the data for everyone stacked in its middle stomach. The motors that run and move its body are located along its back, and connect to a series of pins that run down the length of its spine, from neck to tailbone, that make up the bulk of its "nervous system". These pins are highly sensitive and allow for testing of its range of motion, sensation, and reflexes, and can be used to recalibrate its body after extensive damage has been healed. They are further connected up its neck and into its head, where the CPU is housed in a steel skull. Fans located in its cranium are disguised under synthetic fiber optic hair, allowing it proper circulation as well as the ability to further alter its appearance. The synthetic "hair" is reconstituted from its crystal body as its damaged or altered, allowing it a semi-normal process of hair growth, as well as giving it material to use to help rebuild its body from damage.

As Evie's body takes damage, past a certain threshold the damage can be felt internally by the members of the collective. This threshold is usually 50-60%, depending on where the damage is located. Loss of limbs can cause enough bodily shock that could be felt internally, but true damage to the collective can only be done by severe damage to the body, especially its main components. Too severe damage can affect the stability of the collective, leaving members corrupted or with memory loss, in a way akin to brain trauma. Because of this, the body has a tendency to react defensively when hurt severely, protecting itself until it is safe to shut down and conserve power. Unexpectedly, most likely due to the connection imposed on the body to the cartridge by outside forces, the physical state of the Haunted Majora's Mask Cartridge will also affect the body, albeit only mentally. If the cartridge is destroyed, the CPU will be damaged severely, and the members of the hivemind will be injured to such a degree that their minds will reset, and they would have to start from scratch. For this reason, Evie, as the protector of the Moon children, does everything in its power to maintain and protect the body first, and protect the cartridge second. Magnetic forces can also affect the hivemind adversely, causing errors and glitches in its projection and scrambling the mental state of whichever user is in front. Removing the magnet from the immediate vicinity stops the attack, and the damage is almost always reversible.

Powering the body can be done in many ways. The body doesn't have formal ports, but electricity can be ingested orally, and as such they can be seen sucking on electrical output cords when drained or exhausted. The electricity is taken in and "digested" into the power supply to be recirculated. The body can also generate its own electricity with enough movement and water, and due to this the collective is not very stationary. They fidget and move in place when standing idle, as stagnating too long can affect their ability to generate their own energy temporarily. When the body is at an optimal power level, it excretes the excess electricity out of the body like sweat, creating a fuzz of static electricity over the surface. Excess energy can also be expelled or discharged offensively or defensively, allowing them to defend their selves when needed. When too much energy is used, the body goes into a low power mode and hibernates until its reserves are restored.

Originally posted on my personal Obsidian vault

[callmemonster68]

JUNGWON - The Mark of Sin

Synopsis: In a remote corner of the universe lies the planet Abyssia, inhabited by demons of extraordinary beauty whose immortality depends on vital energy extracted from intense orgasms. Y/N, a mesmerizing demoness, longs for more authentic experiences and decides to leave her world of lust to explore Earth. Disguised, she becomes a neighbor to Jungwon, an innocent young man who fascinates her with his purity. As Y/N seduces him and transforms him into an obedient lover, they become entangled in a dance of dominance and submission, where pleasure and pain intertwine...

Pairing: Innocent Virgin Jungwon x FemReader - Demoness

Genre: Obscenity / Suggestive

Warnings: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive themes, penetration, explicit language, climax, sexual acts, profanity, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, praise, rough sex, mentions of bruising, handcuffs, chains, BDSM, masochism, marks.

Setting:Abyssia is described as a planet where demons dwell in hidden realms, submerged in darkness and profound desires. A world filled with glowing caverns, black seas, and an atmosphere charged with erotic and chaotic energy, reflecting the essence of the intense and dark emotions that dominate its inhabitants.

Note:I'm just starting out as a writer, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve over time. Feedback is always welcome!

In a distant corner of the universe lies a planet known as Abyssia, home to demons of extraordinary beauty and supernatural powers. In this exotic world, immortality is guaranteed by one peculiar necessity: the vital energy extracted from intense, overwhelming orgasms. This energy sustains Abyssia's inhabitants, yet ensnares them in a cycle of lust and domination.

Among Abyssia’s denizens was Y/N, a demoness of hypnotizing allure. Her long, black hair shimmered with pink streaks that pulsed with energy whenever she used her powers. Her oriental eyes bore a mesmerizing heterochromia: one as deep as the ocean, the other as gray as an impending storm. Her skin was adorned with a peculiar tattoo, a constellation-like design that seemed alive, shifting with her emotions and powers as if it were an extension of her very soul.

Though she was among the most desired beings of her realm, Y/N felt unsatisfied. The energy exchanged among her kind was intense but predictable, like a dance where every step was known before it happened. Craving something raw and visceral, she decided to leave Abyssia in pursuit of new experiences.

Her destination? Earth.

Upon arrival, disguised to blend in, Y/N roamed the streets of a small town, captivated by the unfiltered emotions of humans. It was there she saw Jungwon—a young man with tousled hair and eyes that radiated a provocative purity. He was a stark contrast to the predators of her world, and his innocence intrigued her.

Determined to possess him entirely, Y/N used her powers to become his neighbor, silently observing him. Her presence exuded a magnetism that Jungwon couldn’t ignore, even if he didn’t understand it. Gradually, she introduced herself, weaving a web of seduction and desire around him. Jungwon, naturally timid, was both hesitant and irresistibly drawn to her fiery aura.

As she led him down a path of forbidden explorations, Jungwon discovered pleasures he had never imagined. Y/N left her mark on him, physically and emotionally, transforming him from an innocent youth into a fervent lover. Yet her seduction was intense and unrelenting; she desired him entirely and tested his boundaries without hesitation.

In the dim candlelight of her room one fateful night, Y/N took things to a new level. She conjured chains and cuffs of gleaming black metal, cold as ice, binding Jungwon to the bed. The tension in the air was palpable.

Y/N: (with an intense gaze, her voice both a promise and a threat) “You’re mine now. And I will explore every inch of you. Don’t be afraid to surrender. Let go.”

Jungwon: (a mix of fear and desire, breathing unevenly) “I trust you, Y/N. Do what you will. I’m ready to discover.”

Y/N: (whispering as her fingers glide over his body) “You don’t know how much this excites me. Every sound you make is music to me. Let’s lose ourselves until we can no longer tell pain from pleasure. I’ll guide you through this journey.”

Releasing her powers, Y/N transformed the very atmosphere around them into a manifestation of her desires: walls trembling, lights flickering, and even the air growing warmer. Jungwon, though frightened, felt irresistibly drawn in, diving deeper into the intoxicating sensations.

Y/N explored every inch of his body, alternating between soft caresses and firm touches, observing his reactions to each new sensation. The sound of shifting chains accompanied Jungwon’s moans as he surrendered completely. S/N, with a predatory smile, pushed the boundaries of pleasure and pain, creating an intoxicating balance that left them in a state of near-supernatural ecstasy.

At the same time, Y/N felt something unexpected—a purity in Jungwon that, instead of simply satisfying her hunger, seemed to intensify it. For the first time, she didn’t just crave his energy; she wanted to understand him, consume him, and protect him all at once. It made her feel vulnerable—a sensation she had never known.

But danger loomed. Y/N knew her presence on Earth would not go unnoticed by others of her kind. They wouldn’t accept her bond with a human, much less her decision to stay with him. Facing threats from her own people, she also had to confront the growing complexity of her feelings for Jungwon.

After an intense exchange of sensations, S/N looked at Jungwon, now more confident.

Y/N: (with a tender gaze) “You’ve changed, Jungwon. The purity I saw in you now burns with a new intensity. I want to protect it.”

Jungwon: (smiling, still breathless) “And I want to discover more about you—not just the demoness who claims me but the S/N who cares for me.”

Y/N: (with a soft smile) “Then let’s face this together. But remember, what we have is dangerous. I can’t promise the others from Abyssia will leave us in peace.”

─────── Time Skip ───────

Y/N looked into Jungwon's eyes, her heart pounding with an intensity she could barely contain.

Y/N: (gently extending her hand) "I want you to know that you’re mine, in a way that goes beyond what we can see."

As she touched his arm, a soft light emanated, leaving behind a shimmering trace that seemed to dance between them.

Jungwon: (shivering as a chill ran down his spine) "What was that?"

Y/N: (with an enigmatic smile) "It’s my magic. Now, you’ll always feel my presence, even when we’re apart."

Jungwon: (smiling, feeling a deep connection) "So, I’m marked forever?"

Y/N: (nodding) "Forever."

Now, Y/N and Jungwon’s fates are intertwined in a story of unbridled desire, corruption, and a passion that defies both human and divine laws. How far are they willing to go to stay together? And how might this forbidden union transform not only their lives but also the destinies of two worlds?

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[impishtubist]

A vote for hedric night... Thoughts on older hedric? Perhaps hedric with children?? 🥺

Yes, thank you for sending me a Hedric ask! 🥺 I love them sm.

Cedric's pretty even-keel and unflappable, but he definitely loses his cool a bit when he first notices that he's going grey. It starts at the temples for him. Harry loves it and gets sad every time Cedric dyes it. Cedric eventually accepts his new grey hairs and how distinguished they make him.

Cedric retires in his 30s from professional Quidditch and takes up coaching instead.

YES THEY HAVE SO MANY BABIES. In a universe where Wolfstar doesn't survive, Cedric helps Harry bring up Teddy. They also turn Grimmauld Place into a home for war orphans and raise a whole gaggle of human and magical children.

In a universe where Wolfstar does survive, Harry and Cedric are Teddy's FAVORITE brothers/uncles.

Harry and Cedric going to Hogwarts to cheer on their children's Quidditch matches.

Cedric sustaining injuries from his Quidditch career that plague him all his life, and Harry taking care of him. Massaging his aching joints, helping him with physical therapy exercises, administering pain potions, etc.

Cedric starting to get a little soft around the middle after he stops playing professional Quidditch and Harry loves it 🥺

Harry adopting every stray he comes across (a surprising number of them are large black dogs) and Cedric says nothing, merely adds another magical extension to their home.

Cedric taking up gardening as a hobby. Working out in the garden while their babies play on a blanket next to him.

Harry eventually taking over Remus's position as DADA professor at Hogwarts. Cedric bringing him lunch every day and Harry's students swooning over him.

Harry and Cedric moving in with Sirius and Remus to take care of them as they get older.

Harry and Cedric going on a walk one day with their grandkids, Cedric using the cane that Harry made for him and holding Harry's hand.

Cedric outliving his husband, because he promised Harry that he would never leave him behind; that he would never again let Harry grieve the loss of a loved one.