#alas the suffering of a dreamer

[pennpenn]

FremiMay Day 8- Fatui

I took some inspo from Collei's background for this one!

Fatui Experiment Fremi!

It was mainly so I could practice drawing a different pose that I wasn't used to. You guys get a bit of line work just for a treat.

This probably comes from an au where he is sent off to Dottore before Arlecchino became knave. He gets long hair because I said so.

More details about the experiment au below because it has mild spoilers to the Fontaine archon quest

Tomorrow's prompt is 'kitty'!

The experiments being conducted would be related on how to get Fontaine-born people to resist the primordial sea water.

Dottore's plans are to see how much a person can take and what puts them on the brink of dissolving. He also wants to study dissolving and why it happens. Yet, Dottore isn't actually aware of the Fontaine people being Oceanids.

Freminet happened to be the experiment where he found the perfect point of: becomes water but doesn't dissolve. He is completely unable to control his powers and mental state. Just like Manga Collei he just kinda... Gets possessed? He becomes more Oceanid than human, the voices of his Oceanid brothers and sisters scream to him. Freminet loses the ability to act on his own and has a period of time where he just rampages.

His body has a blue tint to it, but can retain some color. Such as his hair still being blonde.

His Oceanid can escape his body but it causes his body to melt into a puddle. The tail of the Oceanid cannot leave the puddle. When the Oceanid returns to the puddle it takes a bit for his humanoid body to return.

Freminet also likely has issues with sensations. He can't necessarily feel pain due to his body being water, but he also can't necessarily die by being stabbed. Because his body is water.

Talking about his body being water, let's talk about elemental reactions:

Having cryo be used on him is probably the closest he'll ever get to the sensation of death. His body and mind are frozen, it's as if his time has completely stopped.

He cannot feel the force of geo. If you were to crush him with a geo construct he would end up reforming in a few days. If you were to trap his body within a geo construct his mind would still work. He can't necessarily die without more primordial seawater turning him into a full Oceanid at this point, so he would just have to wait patiently until he is freed.

Freminet typically avoids dendro because it zaps his energy. It becomes harder for him to fight his Oceanid urges and he loses control easier. He does, however, move slower when dendro is being used on him.

Electro makes him jittery! He violently shakes when he is imbued with electro unless he is touching something to transfer the charge. If the electro pulse is too strong then he will become immobile.

Pyro is probably the closest Freminet will get to actually feeling 'hurt'. His body literally boils if it gets too hot. If he gets too much heat then his body will be unable to keep its form and he may melt. So if you are bringing him to the Sumeru desert make sure you bring a bucket! Otherwise you may have to shovel some wet sand in your bag and wait for him to reform later.(He luckily does not evaporate)

Anemo doesn't necessarily do anything special to Freminet. If he is hit with a strong burst of wind that would shred his body apart he typically reforms quite quickly. (When he is a puddle it takes a lot longer to reform than if he just has to rebuild some water to get a neck or arm again)

Hydro doesn't necessarily effect him. He kinda works like a hydro slime. But on the note of water, liquids that aren't room temperature may risk him experiencing discomfort.(Like if you were to try to microwave a mug of cold water, sometimes half of the water is warm and half of the water is cold. It's uncomfortable to drink. He gets that feeling when drinking things other than his current temperature)

Not me coming up with an entire universe and lore for a simple art prompt.

I could go more into a ramble on if he escapes then his own personal Amber(as she is Collei's hero) would be Chongyun. Cuz I think that would be cute.

Anyways kudos to you if you actually read everything. If you want me to make this into a full fledged au lemme know in my ask box or in the comments. If you wanna be goofy then if you read this far put 🪼 in the comments. I like jellyfish.

[officialdaydreamer00]

he wondered how long you had been standing there in your little garden.

you who was blessed by the goddess of springtime, hummed a little tune as you picked a pomegranate from it's branch, blissfully unaware of a pair of golden eyes watching over you.

he saw you happily showing the pomegranate to your mother, and he felt his heart beat loud in his ears. how he wished he could talk to you, laugh with you, be with you. alas, he could not, and he hated it.

tormented by a curse to not stray far from his kingdom, his sanctuary, his heart longed for you, yet he would never wish for you to suffer with him. he could only watch you from afar, vowed to protect you, and your mother to an extent, from any harm and misery that always seemed to follow him wherever he went.

he would do anything, anything he deemed necessary, to see your smile again.

after all, you are his beloved.

his fated one.

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reblogs are very appreciated!!

[intotheabyssofunknown]

Tell me about your favorite character, Kaname. About his feelings, his personality, his sadness, his love, his relationship with Yuki, everything.

Sorry for the death . Tell you about Kaname, the more I talk about him , the more there is still more left to explore. So who is Kaname ,what does he feel , why he does the things he does , what is his relationship with yuki or his friends. I guess something like this .

For me Kaname is a man with a plan ,a very sad plan . He is selfless to a fault , most of the times, he was only been a little selfish when it comes to yuki , i mean to say that he is just someone who just doesn't live for himself , it's just the way yuki talked about him in chapter 90 , it's as if he wouldn't be allowed to exist if he didn't use him life for the sake of someone. Some might say a selfless person is someone who doesn't harm other, who doesn't manipulate others , but everything he ever did was not for himself, none of it was for himself, that I will have this, I will have that, it was all for yuki and at the end humans , if only he did things to achieve happiness , the one person I actually want to be happy from the bottom of my heart . He always puts himself in the second place , forget second perhaps the last . He is someone who will kill for the people he loves , die for them but alas he isn't ever able to live them .

His journey is fascinating to me . He is like a travelller who has travelled the ends of the earth and he has been alone for that amount of time. I won't say he didn't have moments of happiness, i think he must have had those few moments but he just lost them , it's like happiness escapes his fingers like grains of sand . He was a scared man who feels as if he ever desired anything, it's bad , it's dark . But how can there be a life without desire, he had them yet he couldn't act on them ,he suppressed them . It's like something you want , it's right in front of you but you just can't touch it. It's not like he was afraid of the light , perhaps he was afraid that he will corrupt the light , that's why he wanted yuki to stay away from vampire politics. And the kaname we see at the last , is a very very tired man , he has fought enough battles , he just couldn't fight anymore , how to say this , it's like a warrior isn't able to lift his own sword at the end of battle cause sword has become just that heavy , it's a very realistic thing that can happen to a warrior, Kaname was like that . He had grown weary of everything , that was the main theme of vampire knight , the loss of desire that comes with long life . I think latest chapter is actually a good way to talk about it , the more they live the harder it becomes to get rid of your impurities, so how can someone like that lead anyone , though I don't wanna agree with this ,but this is something that happens in real life . kaname's actions, his sadness , his rage , his despair, everything is realistic . Kaname and sadness , these two words are inseparable, he is a tragic king , all his life he had faced more tragedies than anyone , he has given more than anyone can. And sadness of his life , he has always been alone . It's like happiness always escapes his grasp.

He feels like autumn 🍁 if I compare him to a season , he is sweet , spicy and tangy if I think of flavours to describe him . It's not only his sufferings that makes him endearing, he is smart , he is strong yet weak . He isn't good neither is he evil , he is inbetween, he dwinldes at that line , his journey has left him scarred and wounded , he is a dreamer who dreams of peace, of a kind world where no one would be suffering because of vampires , cause he thought of his own kind to be cause of suffering, that's why he did what he did , to destroy the darkness along with himself. How do I say this , a very famous quote from Mahabharat, once a tree rots , you have to cut it or uproot it , before peace comes war , cause perhaps its war that makes us value peace and common day to day life ,it's sadness that gives meaning to happiness . He is chaos yet he feels like peace . He is madness of reasons . He is a sinner yet he is the victim. He is eternal yet he is just as fleeting ,like he can disappear any moment you let go. At the end of the day , he just wants to be normal yet the one that can't be granted to him 😭. He feels like he doesn't deserve that light but he does deserves all the light , he shouldn't just be the protector of light who lives in the dark , he deserves that warmth of light.

About his relationship with yuki , it's something very pure , yet something so complex , i find their relationship very beautiful and pure ( given that most of the time it doesn't look like that from my blog ) but they have given each other so much , warmth , love , commitment and thousands of years of love despite being apart , so I just don't understand how it happened like that between them . How can yuki move on like that , how did she fail to notice the warning signs , how did she not decide to stay with him. I like the little yuki and Kaname to be the best , how kaname loved her , taught her and encouraged her , how he fought with Haruka to let yuki be out , I loved those two . And it makes me wonder how Hino decided to end that in just one single chapter. Moreover I loved their eye to eye flirting in arc one , I loved yuki's bold attitude when it came to Kaname at times , I loved how she didn't want to give up on him , and I love the themes of forgiveness and acceptance between them. Though yuki has disappointed me a lot with her indecisiveness , still does and but I am still grateful for the fact that she gave kaname a second chance at life , she gave him a family though she never stays there , if she is there physically, mentally she is wandering somewhere else , now that her heart is here , physically she is gone. I wish she had stayed , just as a friend or a family member . I loved how yuki's spirit watching over Kaname . I cry at the scene where butterfly perches on Kaname's fingers which I have always felt like yuki coming to him as he once said butterflies are naturally attracted towards light . How her familiar watches his reunion with their daughters. So all in all , there are some aspects of their relationship that I just adore , still there are still some things that feels lacking. I fluctuate many times between liking yuki and not liking , but at this moment I am liking her cause she gave kaname the gift of life .

Kaname's impact on me ::

Kaname is and always be my favourite tragedy and someone I want to become happy from the bottom from my heart. He is like my muse , he is someone I want to do everything for , someone I want to have all the happiness and sorrows of normal everyday life .

There's a lot more to say about him , but I think I should stop now.

Thanks for the ask . I love talking about him and exploring more about him. ( truthfully I have written it a third time cause the first two times it got deleted 😭) .

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for September 24

Morning

“The kingdom of God is within you.”

Matthew 19:1-2

Matthew 19:2

This is a most encouraging fact. If Jesus cures multitudes why should he not save each one of us? Why should we not cry to him for help, and expect to receive it? The healing virtue in Jesus is not diminished: seek it, and it will be freely given.

Luke 17:20-37

Luke 17:21

They looked for an outward reign, as many do still, and so they missed the glory of the inward spiritual kingdom. Outward pomp and show in religion are still the main things with many, but they forget the words before us; “Behold, the kingdom of God is within you.”

Luke 17:21

No doubt many a time the apostles said, “Would God our Lord were here,” especially in those dark days when the Romans compassed the city.

Luke 17:24

There will be no need of inquiries then. His coming will be plain to all. Yet there was need of this caution, for in all ages deceivers have risen up, and have misled many by prophecies concerning the second advent. Vain dreamers of ten go insane upon this matter.

Luke 17:25-31

The most valued properly must be sacrificed to save life. Loitering has cost many a man his soul.

Luke 17:32

She looked, she longed, she lingered, and she died, yet she was Lot’s wife, and was on the way to escape. Alas, how many arc near to salvation and yet perish. This little verse should be often before our eyes.

Luke 17:33

Those who die for Christ’s sake have saved their lives, and those who are cowards and deny their Lord to escape from death have in the highest sense lost life.

Luke 17:34-36

When the Romans came only a few escaped, and so even now death finds many unprepared. Families will not be saved in the bulk. True religion is a personal matter; one by faith will live, and another will perish in unbelief. Who among us will escape from hell when the Lord shall summon us to judgment?

Luke 17:37

The first fulfilment of this prophecy was at the siege of Jerusalem, when the Roman eagles gathered around the dead body of the Jewish state. Then did the Lord come forth to punish impenitent Israel, and then his disciples, being warned, fled in haste from the condemned city. Never, however, let vs forget that his great coming is yet future, and that zee ought to be hourly prepared for it.

Evening

“Suffer the little children to come unto me.”

Mark 5:13-16

Mark 5:13

No doubt their mothers rightly judged that the Saviour’s blessing would in the best sense enrich their children, and conduce to their future happiness, and so they led their boys and girls to him. The disciples thought that he would be annoyed with the little ones, but they did not know what a kind heart he had. No fathers or mothers should think their children too little to be converted. While they are boys and girls, Jesus can bless them.

Mark 5:14

We do not often find him much displeased, and therefore we may learn that to discmirage a child from coming to Jesus is beyond all other things displeasing to him.

Mark 5:15

We must possess the simplicity, teachableness, and trustfulness of children, or else grace is not in us. Like them also we must be free from avarice and ambition.

Isaiah 40:10 , Isaiah 40:11

The tenderness of Jesus to the little ones proved him to be the Messiah, for we read

Psalms 128

Now that we have before us this choice act of Jesus’ love in receiving children, let us pray that all in this house may be blessed of him, and that the children may be saved while yet young. Have we not the promise of it? Is not the promise to us and to our children? For our encouragement let us read and pray over

Full of love was Jesus found

To the little ones around;

And his tender, loving eye

Would not pass an infant by.

When the young to him were led,

Gracious gentle words he said;

While he took them up and smiled

Kindly on each little child.

“Let the young ones come to me,

And forbid them not,” said he;

“Many such, in heaven above,

Dwell with God and share his love.”

Copyright Statement This resource was produced before 1923 and therefore is considered in the "Public Domain".

[xruiningth3sh0wx]

New possibilities, new doorways, were opened up in the wake of the great strife. The world was ready for a new dawn, it seemed. A powder keg ready to blow, to sweep aside the pretenses of the civilized world, and bring something far more splendid. I salute that madman who took aim at that archduke, spraying cranial gore everywhere, and so it was. The chips were down. No more rules. It was the state of nature, the object of Hobbesian fear, having regained primacy once again in our lives. But it was not all doom and gloom. Nay, I think it was quite the opposite. Think of it like…dead trees, fallen trees, old, elderly, worn out trees, having long reached their expiration date, being taken away in a captivating inferno, swallowed up by a blaze that, whilst fearsome in the moment, would prove to do more good than bad. T’was a chance to start anew, perhaps. Oh yes, it was. For no one had seen anything like this before, and it was determined to take everyone and everything with into The Pit.

 

Oh, how glorious it could’ve been, in the aftermath.

 

It did show promise, indeed.

 

Father against father, brother against brother. Kin against kin. A race cannibalizing and eating itself alive. Not to worry, though. These folks were long overdue for a lowering into the grave, and everything they stood for being thrown into it with them. Scores of bodies piling up several feet. Efficiency had made killing a mere triviality. Land destroyed, soaked in blood, flesh, bone, grime, fire, soot, tar, and lorded over by the stench of rot and decay, the stench of bodies baking in the sun, or festering in the cold. Towns and cities, even famous ones, now flattened, leveled, devastated with relentless and savage hatred in the hearts of the various war machines being put to use. Libraries, museums, pubs, clubs homes/manors/estates, art galleries, banks, churches, streets, towers, farms, all of them…gone. Borders meant jack shit. Words were long gone. Now was the time to speak only in lead, artillery, gunpowder, and steel. Morality was skewered in the slaughterhouse. God, family, tradition, blood relations, ideology order, where was it? Certainly not here.

 

This was the chance, for us dreamers of the dark. The sinister. That which they name as perverse, making mothers clutch their pearls in horror, gasping with eyes wide, and fathers shake their heads, worried for the sanity of his offspring.

 

Because everything was falling, and it deserve to be pushed down even further, even faster.

 

What a delight it would’ve been to see everything gone, all that we loathe, even those who profess to do the exact opposite.

 

Alas, that was not the case.

 

I should’ve known, but, when this great ordeal severed all bonds between fellow humans, seeing it for myself, I could only feel hopeful.

 

Invisible enemies invaded the mouth and nose, shredding the lungs, and incinerating the skin. Machine gun fire, roaring and full of rage, turned men into Swiss cheese. Tanks crawled alongside comparatively puny riflemen, pilotable cannons turning would-be fortresses and stubborn encampments into ash piles and smoldering wrecks. Portable ordinance, able to be adjusted in terms of the angle they fired at, lobbed shell after shell, cratering the ground and liquefying any nearby souls. Roaring engines, shaped like wooden tubs, with wings like birds, made mincemeat of each other in the air, and us on the ground. Water-bound fortresses the size of several small buildings murdered and pilfered coastlines and rival aquatic castles, with cannons as big as automobiles.

 

Even our “homes” were not safe. Rats, mosquitoes, maggots, crows, and other pests gnawed at us incessantly, as if we were already dead. Microscopic assassins caught us at our weakest moments, turning the fittest of us into frail husks, unable to even move a measly few feet. Dirt and water turned our skin into our own worst enemies. To drink and eat was to ingest poison, and to not do so, that meant suffering self-cannibalism. And the sights we’d see…we’d surely never forget. The screams. The smells. The noises. The endless number of bodies. The mangled steel and the butchered infrastructure. How could we forget? Sleep was never going to be the same for any of us again. If we could even sleep at all.

 

It showed the marks of a true upheaval. An end to all things. The sign of an era that was now nailed into a coffin. All things fetid, dull, hollow, the sham of what we call “existence”, it should’ve stopped here, no?

 

How could anything live after this? How could we go back to business as usual? The rapture had come. The end times were here. If anyone wanted proof of the apocalypse, then all one had to do was simply look outside, all around you.

 

I think we had come to realize a lot of things, in this rather short period of time.

 

The pretenses we upheld, this mystical notion that we were somehow more evolved, all of these were dashed in an instant. We found them to be strikingly fragile. When calls for blood overwhelmed our reason and logic, it suddenly appeared that we weren’t as prim and proper as we’d like to think. Christ was gone, and in his place, Mars reigned supreme. Now we were not so above the world of tooth and claw. All else became error. To think we were better than that, was now a foolish notion. Civilization was a carefully maintained dream, but it was in these moments, we realized that it was a dream we’d have to wake up from. It couldn’t go on for forever. It wouldn’t. It was impossible. The comfort, the security, it was all taken away. By our own hands, ultimately. Who would’ve thought?

 

I’ll certainly never know what “normalcy” feels like, never again. Petty conversations and debates, laws and rhetoric to back up said laws, manners, social conventions, it was all…window dressing. It wasn’t real. If it was real, then it was as easy to destroy as fine china.

 

All of it was a hilariously shaky way of keeping the beast at bay.

 

To think that the cathedral would stay standing for all eternity…that was optimistic boulder dash. It was a house of cards, and all it needed…was one good wind gust to blow it all down.

 

I was certain it couldn’t ever be rebuilt. It’d be about as useful as tying strings around the limbs of a corpse and moving it like a puppet.

 

Force and valor were the only things that had any meaning. The only guarantor that one could hope to rely on. Freedom is won this way, and freedom is maintained this way. In the realm of absolute freedom, as this happened to be, for me at least, this is all that keeps one alive, and assures any kind of safety. For without the state, you’re out in the open. And we all run on instincts at that point.

 

It would appear that man saw the side of itself that it’s always trying to suppress. The ever-present, always-lurking shadow. Man let it out, freed it from its cage, let it dominate. Naturally, the shadow did as the shadow always does. Primal ferocity was unleashed, and devastation followed in its wake.  It spread and spread, the shadow blanketing humanity, a chain reaction leading to every people, every tribe, sprouting fangs once again, and a storm disrupted the calm skies that normally permeate the hearts of men. Fires surged within, quelled and tempered for far too long, and the blood of people boiled. Frenzied madness became the order of the day.

 

I know mine certainly came out. Every time my bayonet went through a man’s chest, or I emptied my magazine into an enemy regiment’s men, or the sounds of death and destruction came from my own hands, I felt as if I was God himself. I was above all. Nothing was my master. Nothing except myself. The only thing stopping me was my might. I reveled in my cruelty and delighted in my bloodlust. I’m not entirely sure why I even felt the way I did. I had no special hatred for these men, or their homeland. I had no particular attachment to my own kin, or place of birth. Nevertheless, it felt so wonderful to let the carnal, gnashing whirlwind of vitriol stored up deep inside me loose upon everything. That repressed pitch-blackness that was always caged, and when it was stirred, when it smelled blood, it threw itself against the walls and doors, desperate for release. Man is both God and Devil, and every man has a monster in him. Some just choose to acknowledge it. Even let it out when it demands. Others? They keep it chained up. And usually, it doesn’t manage to take over. However, there are times when it does, so pent up.

 

Mankind had opened a gateway, a nexion, if you will, to dark forces. Forces we likely were not meant to know. Not the lot of us. All of which instilled a collective insanity in the human species. Whether or not that was intentional, I cannot say. A plethora of, to our feeble minds and soft brains, malicious…things…lurked out in the immaterial, where not even space and time manage to penetrate. By this act, this collective force of will to bring the rapture upon Earth, mass murder both ritualized and spontaneous, we not only caught their attention, but we aided them in making this place a lot more sinister. A lot more vicious. Those pagan deities, having always existed, only taking on different forms and different names throughout the ages, yet still being worshipped in their own ways, directly or indirectly, they are…here. It’s impossible to describe them. All that can really be said is…we sacrificed many for them, and in turn, we, knowingly or not, began to evolve in a certain direction. Beyond the throes of the past, and the present, and into something that reflected our true nature. Harnessing some of their power (though it did not come without a price, a heavy cost, as you may have inferred) that they bestowed upon the more favorable of us, the establishment, that is to say, the old ways, the exalted paths, the values and the forms they took, which we held, dogmatically, fanatically, to be sacred, while not defeated, sadly, was further marched to its inevitable doom.

 

The Faustian man was held back, and in all this, I recognized it. I mourned it, for the Faustian man would surely perish once again, back into the arms of a sick, suffocating prison.

 

The great man had an out, here, and potentially there could’ve been an out all over, but the general populace wanted to stay in.

 

Inside this horrid prison.

 

This prison we call the West.

 

The myth of the “brotherhood of man” was shattered. Man is not something which particularly likes itself, as I was shown time and time again. They quarrel over petty differences. I say petty, because while they may show affinity for a culture, or a movement, or a nation/community, they damn sure had no hand in it. They’re much akin to spectators at a sporting event. Cheering on, but not in any way contributing. Sheep tend to look the same, and act the same, even if they look different, and live in a different location. They have a universal behavior. Not to insult actual sheep, that is. I enjoy the presence of lambs and goats and cattle and other bovids infinitely more than the common man who walks down the street. Farm animals a better sight than some rando. Also, a quick side note, flock being led about by a herdsman, who is just as much of a slave as the slaves themselves. The herdsman is owned just as much by the herd as the herd is by their herdsman. It’s more relevant than you think. Anyway, man is not in a position, or in a mindset, to ever be really accepting of that which is different from itself. Will it ever? I doubt it. Man tends to reject anything that doesn’t conform to its notions of “normal”, of “right” and “wrong”. And, to be quite honest, it shouldn’t. The world would be a dull place of everything was put into one giant melting pot. Internationalism, I don’t have an affinity for it. But don’t mistake this for some sort of pride in something abstract. I’m just saying.

 

Humanity hates itself. I saw it. I even felt it. Man will be the end of man. Humanity will die by suicide, not by external causes. I’m sure of it. Has anything changed much since the war? No, it hasn’t.

 

The Earth doesn’t seem to like humanity very much either. During the war, it took every opportunity to kill it. Casting it out into the cold elements and natural wilderness it rejected by setting up monolithic centers to block out the dear Mother. Unleashing plague upon plague, sickness upon sickness, because man was thrown back into Nature (most of the fighting was done out in the more open areas, not as much in cities and whatnot), and was woefully unprepared to live within it. Spoiling its sources of nutrition, ruining its mechanical devices. I can’t say I’m surprised, or even unsympathetic. Humanity needed to be knocked down a peg anyway, I think. And it was…for a moment. Plus, when you strike at the Mother, you’re going to have to expect a strike back. It’d be idiotic to think you can just domineer the one who gave birth to you indefinitely.

 

The Earth was also trying to subtly remind us where we belonged. Where we really belonged.

 

Everything revolted against humanity. Even humanity itself.

 

 And everything wanted to tear apart what humanity had created. Even humanity itself.

 

Naturally, the masses were scared by all of this, all of what they saw, and all governments, who are headed by politicians, all of whom are democrats at heart, are, to some extent or another, whether or not they say otherwise, being populist, conserved what was left, and tried to restore what was lost. Pick up the pieces, so the people could live in peace again. They have to placate the whims of the people. Otherwise, they don’t survive. And all governments, all politicians, no matter what they say, are egoists, to some degree. A selfless leader is like a vegetarian wolf. It’s nonexistent.

 

So, things were brought back to business as usual.

 

That didn’t last very long, did it?

 

There were wars in the streets. Bloody battles between those who wanted their nation restored to former glory, frightened by the decay all around them, and those who, to these reactionaries, would only destroy them even further. Which they would, with their leveling materialism, lack of spirituality, and anthropocentric/humanistic approach to life. On the other hand, I’d argue that the nations deserved to be dead, anyway. And, to a degree, there wasn’t much of a difference between the two. Another case of petty squabbling. Like youth-driven gang warfare. Neither could stop the oncoming of the Kali Yuga.

 

Now, here we are.

 

The stages set for another war.

 

People are demanding the blood of other people.

 

Rabble rousers are happy to give it to them.

 

Countries are armed to the teeth, all glaring at each other, with guns pointed at one another’s heads.

 

There is a great feeling that whatever that has passed must be totally discarded and dismembered, to make way for something closer to the truth, a new world. One that is thoroughly unattached to the fetid doctrines of centuries we’ve long since forgotten.

 

I don’t think them and I want the same things.

 

Because I want this all gone, but they only want to hop back on the wheel, and simply make what has long since proven to be useless and harmful, work for them.

 

I truly want it all gone.

 

Maybe I’ll see it come to fruition.

 

I doubt it.

[useless-thought-pit]

A little collection of recent poems

They were all written about a month ago, and to give you just a teeny bit of context I was unfortunately under the spell of some scourge we like to call love (the best of all, of course, being unrequited love). No seriously though, I am now free from this transient infatuation (you'll get to see that word in a bit cos I am a shit poet with a bad memory for synonyms). I've ordered them chronologically, and have also included unfinished fragments.

Also this was pretty much one of my first times actually composing poetry in English, like with meters and rhymes and stuff. You may also find poems written in french on this blog if I please to post them, but that's if you speak it so ahah

Enough babbling now, enjoy.

***

I know not how to get to thee safe and alive Future appears farther and farther with the days There's within me an evergreen spreading its arms Or is it I who bury my roots in the soil Nothing seems surer than when thou flow through my veins When I try to sleep it away I swiftly shift Towards elsewhere a humongous desert of heart The sun glistens as thy dark eyes still yet unknown O wand'ring soul O newest woe but who art thou Does thine essence lie in my mind so delusive Am I the jittery dreamer are thou the dream Are thou but a deadly pommel on which to press With painted hands of thine ego bearer of light Burnt witch that crawls under the wick of candlesticks Nonsense to me and in the end shan't we forget How I made thee aim for my bosom with mine eyes

***

Strange infatuation hath grabbed me hard There seems to be nothing at all to try Attempts to write it off but ain't no bard If anything it stoked instead of dry How come a single thought seed of evil Can grow into such monstrous tentacles Been looking ev'rywhere for some old spell To rid of the disease that harsh and dwells

***

Things do get out of hand And leave myself to hang Exorcism is nigh I pray that I won't die Mayhap all that junk is But a petty pretext To know how to feel next All of that sorrow biz Isn't it so frightening To know not how to live Though easier that to heave Thoughts so unbecoming Tomorrow says the fool But there's no way I could Throw thyself at me cruel Fate do hurt me real good

***

Two glimmering dark pools I can see myself in Am I just acting fool In the abyss peering Lash out thy wrath Kyrie God have mercy on me Am I looking drowning Narcissus in denial Katie I write thy name Thinking it bravery When all it is really Is I can't my heart tame Shall it pass shall it stay Forever evermore I love thee I implore That thou take me away

***

If instead of stumbling upon thy beauty I could have fallen into some old chasm Forever floating into infinity Mine heart wouldn't be prey to all those spasms But alas now each time I go to bed I'm forced by my own mind to dream of thee I shift into reveries so ghastly Wherein I'm charmed ev'n by thy lofty tread I hope I shall in the end kiss thy hands But I'm oh so afraid that thou reject My confession leaving my hopes to mend Why must love be our greatest soul's defect Katie I'm cold I don't mean to be bold But it seems to me that my end cometh With scythe and hourglass so now do behold What I'll gently whisper in my last breath

Fragments

I can well suffer into some long hours If only for a transient sight of her If it means I get one fast sight of her My heartbeat rises far up to the skies When I turn round and see her cherished eyes

---

Feeling beat down life's got me bad or so it seems I cannot think of anything but thee, caught in the stream Feeling beat down life got me real bad The thought of her's deadly as a last strike

---

Tonight at least I get to say What a pleasant ev'ning it's been Although moments of relief sway To fall beyond tomorrow's veil

[mythriteshah]

The Sultan’s Dream

“Nyra… Glacius…  It has been a journey of ten-thousand malms since we stepped foot upon Eorzea.  I was but a simple lordling that wanted to make a name for himself, with nothing but my two greatest companions – my best friends – by my side.  You two were always there.  Through my triumphs and my failures, you were all I had to depend on.

Yes, I have my Angels to watch over and safeguard myself and the Regalia, but even they are not always around – unlike you two. ‘Tis not often I am given an opportunity to simply enjoy the scenery and share my thoughts; there are few whom I trust enough to divulge my deepest secrets.  And to tell you the greatest truth of all, Nyra & Glacius… I’m tired. My time spent in Eorzea was one filled with so much turmoil that I would not even wish such a life on my worst enemies. And although I’ve brought the Regalia to a shining age of prosperity, I had still suffered a great deal since I first became an adventurer.

All this conflict is for the cloudkin.  I’ve already cavorted with enough primals to live three full lives.  And the repeated incursions of the Garlean Empire are evolving into quite the proverbial broken record.  There are numerous other adventurers and ‘heroes’ strewn about the realm to make an army; what’s one merchant-lord in the grand scheme of things?

We’ve played our part on this grand stage of imbeciles, Glacius.  Nyra. But now it is time for the curtains to descend.  I am done fighting and tempting fate – I’ll grow old doing this for so long. ‘Tis time we returned back home to where we belong.”

Thiji reflected back on his speech he gave to his two most trusted companions some summers ago.  While he has gained and lost much throughout his time as an adventurer, he was tolerant of the outcomes and made peace with them.  Of course, there are certain moments in time he wish would have changed for the better.

His confrontation with the Harriers and their leader in the heart of Snowcloak, though successful in its objective, costed Thiji the life of the only Angel who ever loved him – Mamai Mai, who was given the title of “Lady” posthumously.  She insisted on accompanying the then Mythrite Prince and his comrades-in-arms in his assault, offering her pugilistic skills to the table. Unfortunately, she was waylaid unexpectantly by what may as well have been a sub-zero blast of cold by the Lady of Frost.  Thiji may have withstood the brunt of it, but Mamai was not so prepared, and she fell as a result.  This was the beginning of a martial awakening within Thiji, for this event catalyzed his ascent – or descent, to some – into the path of the Dark Knight.  This would later be realized in its fullest when he battled against the fourfold master of the blade in His home turf: Ravana, Lord of the Hive.

“Martial perfection”, the Amalj’aa called it.  The apex of one’s skill for which all Amalj’aa seek to strive.  This concept stuck close to Thiji as he eventually took up the sword and shield, continuing his adventures as a Paladin during the campaign to liberate Ala Mhigo.  When he had faced off against the Lady of Bliss, whose Qalyana dreamers were coaxed into summoning their false deity due to threats from the Garlean Empire, he had received word from Nyra, who bore a message from one of his Angels informing him that his then-Sultana, Nanago Nago - whom was with child and under the care of Sarielle - had succumbed to her own avarice, consuming gratuitous amounts of aether from his weapons collected throughout his journeys during the Dragonsong War.  The resulting effulgence – combined with her own innate powers as an Astrologian – caused her and their unborn child to perish in a stellar explosion, effectively removing them from existence.  Another crushing loss – greater, even, than the one incurred from losing Mamai. Thanks to the laws of time and space, no one but he and his Angels know of this event.  Once more unhinged, Thiji found new strength in not only his martial, but his magical prowess, effectively dispatching of the Lady of Bliss, though at the cost of his own blade and board… and his soul crystal, which he casted away with his armor following the battle.

It always seemed passing strange that the Dunesfolk nobleman from the Near East would gain new strength and prowess by leaps and bounds at the expense of some tragedy – this only further added to his eccentricity.  He was a calm individual, but was incredibly vindictive – especially if one ever crossed his Angels, whom he cared for so dearly.  Others may not have picked up on the cause of these… awakenings, but Thiji was more than aware of it.  Some days following the Largesse, when he was alone in his Aldenard Branch office, he gazed upon a glistening blue greatsword of exquisite make.  It was made by a Dragoon friend of his who had a fascination for all things Allagan, and upon the length of the blade was an engraved sentence:

“As long as you make it out of a battle alive, you're one step closer to fulfilling your dream.”

More than just pretty words to the Mythrite Sultan.  He had experienced many battles and came out of each intact.  Even now, as the kingpin of the Higuri Regalia, Thiji had even conquered a battlefield which extended beyond the physical: the realm of high fashion. He toiled for many winters to get to where he is now; to be the titan of aesthetic and philanthropy which has earned the respect of many (and, for some reason, the ire of some).  Yet therein lies the problem:

What dream remained?

Sure, Thiji Higuri was a man of ambition and intellect.  But he had not enjoyed the pursuit of a dream since the assault on Djanan Qhat.  Ever since he was a child, he was spellbound by a particular play, and never missed a single showing.  Thiji had experienced it so many times that he could (and probably still) recite the entire script verbatim.  It was a tale of romance and tragedy; of a powerful sorceress with a good heart who stood up for a broken country’s people, and the solitary man who rose up to defend her:  the Sorceress’s Knight.

A dream he may have fulfilled after the Dragonsong War, but was snatched away prior to Ala Mhigo’s freedom. It was a sensitive topic, and seldom brought up in the Mythrite Sultan’s presence, lest an Angel earns his anger. Why keep the claymore, then, if he had no dream to pursue?  What other meaning could the decorative sword have to Thiji if he is a man bereft of that driving force?

The evening following the Largesse, the Mythrite Sultan was no longer present at the Aldenard Branch. He had begun making for the Main Branch for reasons as of yet unknown – probably to oversee the release of the Blessed Wardrobe’s second clothing line.  As usual, his Advisor, Veeveena Veena, was present in his chambers, enjoying some Winter Lassi as she gazed upon the moon with that lovely smile on her face.  It was yet another peaceful night in Radz-at-Han, and though she has seen the view many times, it was no less breathtaking to behold for the Near Eastern flower.

Veeveena took a few sips of her drink as the winds suddenly began to rise.  The trees amidst the emergent layer of the jungle which could be seen from the city began to sway and billow, and would eventually cause a whisper or three to blow through the balcony.  The sudden shift in temperature caught her off guard as the Dunesfolk woman let out a soft gasp, stumbling somewhat, but maintained her posture as the numerous jewels and decorations on her sampot clinked like wind chimes against her body.

“This breeze…” she whispered to herself.  “Could it be the North Wind?  Has he arrived in Radz-at-Han?”  The sheer thought of meeting the elusive debonair was too enticing to resist, and Veeveena would quickly down the last of the lassi, enduring the brain freeze that would follow.  As swiftly as she could, she doffed her garb to put on some evening attire before making her flight from the Main Branch Headquarters.  Forgoing the usual method of taking the bridge out from the city, she utilized her fans to conjure wind-aspected aether to propel herself upward, gliding down gracefully toward the canopy.

Meanwhile, as Veeveena made her way to the rivulet, a lone figure was seen dancing about.  It was shrouded entirely thanks to the shadows cast by the dense canopy beneath Menphina’s light.  The figure’s movements were seamless, effortlessly transitioning into fouettes, sliding along the waters from one side to the other as they froze over, striping the rivulet with bands of ice.  All throughout was the sound of steel ringing through the night air, and that same icy wind began picking up once more as the figure gathered aetherial energy for a brief moment before soaring from one end of the river to the other in a twirling flourish.   Upon reaching the apex of the jump, it performed a flawless jete, the silvery moon cloaking the figure all the while as if the spectacle was taken straight out from a painting. The concealed terpsichorean was releasing the stored energy as it did its finish, resulting in an arch of slick ice to form over the rivulet.  Sticking the landing with one final twirl into a plie, it detected movement within the trees.  It did not bother to take the time to discern the incoming presence, and instead fled the scene with a blinding dash into the forest floor.

When Veeveena had finally emerged, the figure she believed to be the North Wind was nowhere to be found. All that she beheld was the stark scenery of a partly-frozen rivulet, the banks dotted with shards of frost, and an arch spanning its breadth.  “This is beautiful… but the North Wind could not do this,” she thought, as she felt the scintillant snow particles kissing her face.  While she was awestruck at the sight, Veeveena had to report this occurrence to her peers.  Without wasting another moment, she contacted the Angels at the Main Branch, who would then arrive within the bell.

The “S” Trio (Sena, Sona, Suna) and the “L” Trio (Lena, Luma, Lina) were investigating the area as Veeveena brought them up to speed on what happened to the best of her ability. Sosona was easily able to deduce that the lingering aether was not the result of a primal’s thanks to her aetherometer obtained by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn (who, when asked about how she acquired them, stated that they didn’t seem to be using them anymore anyway);  Lelena and Lilina, with their own unique abilities, further deduced that the culprit was not using the ambient aether or the influence of a construct; Luluma and Susuna had also come to the conclusion that the focus area was away from any wildlife or beastmen, so none were harmed from the result of this… phenomenon.

What really stood out, however, was Sesena’s observation after gazing upon the frozen arch for several minutes:

“Hey, Angels… do any of you feel… different?” she asked them.  “Miss Veeveena?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I thought I was the only one who felt such… emotion from this scene, so I did not address it.”

“Miss Veeveena’s right… I don’t feel all that chipper,” Lilina commented, holding a hand to her heart. “It’s not… aether sickness, but when I gaze upon this scene, I’m seemingly overcome with… sorrow.  But it’s a sort of… beautiful sorrow – like a dying maiden being held in her lover’s arms before the last flames of life fade from her eyes…”

The other Angels absorbed Lilina’s words, taking in the scenery, watching the snow particles dance in the air.  The longer they remained, the more these senses seemed more profound.  They may have been involved in many conflicts both small and large, but the Angels were no strangers to emotion – especially ones as palpable as what they were experiencing.  They felt tranquility… yet sadness; bliss… yet loss.  It was as if they were traversing a thin line between positive and negative emotion.

“I’ve heard tales of his prowess, Angels, but I don’t think even the North Wind is capable of something like this,” Sesena commented.

“Whomever it is,” Sosona began, “they’re damn good at expressing themselves.”  The Angels remained for a while longer, until the icy spectacle would be whisked away by an errant gust of wind, freeing the rivulet from its frozen state in a cloud of diamond dust.

From atop the city in the Main Branch Headquarters, a Lalafell woman veiled in mythril blue and silver watched silently from her vantage point.  Lady Mimizo, the Valide Sultan, was surprisingly awake during this bell, her face obscured by one of her fans.  But for what reason was she spying on the Angels?

As Nyra flew to her side, Mimizo looked over her shoulder to find a slumbering Thiji, who seemed to be well into his sleep, a rare smile of content made visible on his face.  His mother would grin in kind as she gave a kiss to the owl’s cheek.

“[I am indebted to you, Nyra.  Thank you for keeping this secret for so long.  But soon, the Angels will have to know. Until then, pray hold your tongue a while longer],” Mimizo whispered to Nyra in their native tongue.  She would bow her head before taking wing, flying off into the night sky.  Mimizo gazed upon the vestiges of the ice particles swirling into the heavens, enjoying the sight for a moment before quietly leaving her son’s bed chambers.  She would return to accompany her husband before the Angels would make their way back to report this event to the other branches.

“May your dreams bring you the bliss you so rightfully deserve, my beloved son…”

[lilakyy]

SPAMANO FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS

Fanfiction means a lot to me.because that´s how I learned to speak English fluently, which is why I´ve been wanting to do this for a long time but I thought that no one would be interested in this. I realized that even if just one person discovers a fic they like because of me then that´s good enough. So, here it is: a shit ton of spamano.

(I didn´t include George Devalier because I feel like everyone knows about his stories by now)

Neighbours 

Antonio and Lovino live in the same neighbourhood but don't know each other personally. Lovino sees Antonio jogging every day and quite enjoys his tan and shirtlessness. Lovi tries to get Toni to notice him by conveniently gardening or getting the mail or w/e at the same time that the other jogs, but they end up meeting by something unplanned, awkward, and cute.

This is from the kink meme and it´s really cute- perfect for when you need to cheer up!

The rose family by thegoliathbeetle​

Antonio was the best football player in the high school team. Until a certain Lovino Vargas arrives. Lovino is gifted, ruthless, and brilliant on the field. Antonio finds it all rather endearing, much to Lovino's chagrin. And somehow, this has something to do with 'being true to yourself' and all that jazz. -Spamano oneshot. Human AU.

This is one of my all time favoirtes when it comes to Hetalia Fanfiction in general, extremely cute and brilliantly written.

The Prince and the Pauper by 78meg9

When Prince Feliciano goes missing, it is up to a poor servant boy Romano to step in to take his place and thwart an evil plan to take over the kingdom. However, falling in love was something neither one anticipated. Based off Barbie's Princess and the Pauper.

This fic is exactly what it sounds like. It was a really fun read for me :)

Singles by StarsMadeinHeaven

AU Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert are three friends who suffered their first heartbreaks at the age of fifteen, and made a pact to never fall in love again. That will change for Antonio when he first lays eyes on a brown-haired young man in a club...

we need to talk about this fanfic, it´s absolutely gorgeous and kept me on edge the whole time

A new life by Sheena Wilde

Slave AU. Owing huge family debts, Antonio is made a slave to the Vargas household and a personal servant to Lovino, but the wealthy patrician seems not to recognize him from their shared childhood, and the sex only complicates things.

It‘s been quite a while since I‘ve read this one but I remember liking it a lot!

una notte a napoli by Alexander Ryan

Antonio visits Naples with some old friends, Gilbert and Francis. During a drunken night, Antonio finds himself at the beach to hear a gentle song being carried upon the breeze. Atop a balcony is a man Antonio deems as an angel, but alas, as soon as this 'angel' spots him, he retreats back into the house, leaving Antonio to stand there, alone. The next day, they run into each other again - quite literally - and to apologize for being drunk and staring that night, Antonio offers to buy Lovino lunch and a sweet. Lovino begrudgingly agrees and thus, romance sparks. The problem? Antonio's only in Naples for a week.

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS FANFIC! I actually started learning Italian because of this. It’s really beautiful, extremely sad. Also- I‘m sorry to my friends that were annoyed by me talking about this fic.

An antipodean tale of love by ChibiAnimefreak

Antonio and Lovino have been friends for as long as either of them can remember, but when one day "friends" is pushed just a bit farther, how will they deal with it? And how far will they go?

This one is beautiful as well! The emotional conflict is very well written and even the smut part is very well written.

Promise me tomorrow by watanabemaya

For there are no words which could ever suffice to express just how much they mean to each other; and yet, as Spain wraps his arms around the small of his frame, Romano knows that that alone is enough. It isn't much, but it is enough. / SpaMano oneshot.

Ahhhh I just love how the characters and their relationship are written in this one!

The gaming of the shrew by Shadowcatxx

This story is a Hetalia-spoof based on Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew (1593-4). Lovino Vargas is a rich Italian heir, whose shrewish nature can't be tamed. Enter the fortune-hunter, Antonio Fernández Carriedo. When a scheming group of courtiers—keen to wed Feliciano—convince the Spaniard to marry Lovino to take him off the market, Antonio accepts the offer, which soon becomes a rough-and-tumble farce the wily Spaniard is determined to win.

I really really really like this story and since I’m a huge nerd for both literature and history I absolutely fell in love. (Also it‘s incredibly funny)

Five times Romano unintentionally made Spain blush by darkhue

...and one time he did it on purpose.

Extremely fluffy, will make you smile. Simple and cute :)

The Phone Call From Across the Hallway by TheGoliathBeetle

Lovino wakes up at 2.37 am to a phone call from Antonio, who ideally should be in bed with him, but is not. Antonio is sick, and Lovino tries very hard to keep his cool. -Spamano, Human AU, one-shot, sickfic-

Another cute and fluffy oneshot that I didn‘t know I needed in my life.

Cupid fired the shooting star by TheGoliathBeetle

Romano 'Lovino' Vargas wants nothing more than to distance himself from his grandfather and his murky illegal business. When a shooting star streaks across the sky, Lovino's friends make wishes. And the next day, a mysterious new student named Antonio turns up in class. So starts a cycle of wishing, fulfillment and a lot of red carnations. College AU Spamano. Two-shot.

Ok ok ok. We need to talk about this fanfic. It is so goddamn beautiful that I still feel like crying every time I think about it. Another one of those fics that all my non-hetalian friends know about because I couldn‘t stop talking about it when I first read it.

We the dreamers by TheGoliathBeetle

New York City, 1940: Antonio is a recently arrived refugee from Spain, a scarred soldier with firm political convictions. For Lovino, everything is pointless and nothing ever lasts. The two of them live, love and dream desperately, as World War Two threatens to take it all away. -Spamano, three-shot-

Very dark but incredibly beautiful. One of these fanfics that give you the kind of excitement that only a good story can give you.

Bottoms! Up by SunnyDayinFebruary

Follow Lovino on his weird and, well, at least quite interesting trip around Europe in order to find out some of the greatest secrets ever about himself, Europe, tomato-shaped alarm clocks and the past of his lovely, but complicated Spanish partner. This story is actually a part two, which I didn‘t read and I don‘t think it is required to but in case you want to read it, you can find it here

I just love this story so much, it‘s incredibly cute and funny (like really really really funny) and made me fall in love with every hetalia character mentioned. Also, this has like 80 long chapters so get ready for a long term relationship with this fanfic.

Spin the bottle by 78meg9

If you're going to play spin the bottle, you've got to have the balls to kiss people. At least that's what Lovino thinks. 

a really cute and fluffy oneshot

Of vending mashines and night clubs by bubbleteadesu

AU (human names used) ; Lovino Vargas is an aspiring artist who struggles with the pressure of having a world-renowned landscape artist as his brother. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is a jobless man, who enjoys living in the present (too much, actually) and takes life one step at a time. A chance meeting one winter night by a certain bright red vending machine leads to another and another until they form an unlikely friendship. One day, Antonio is offered a job as a bartender at his friend's bar and he asks Lovino to work with him there. As they begin to spend more time together, Lovino is confronted by Antonio's new feelings for him and his own feelings for Antonio. But, is he ready to accept them?

I´m so in love with the way the characters are written- especially Lovino! It´s really to write him in a way that isn´t annoying to read while still remaining true to the character; which is what this author did in a really beautiful way.

Bad hair day by spinyfruit

Lovino works at a hair salon and Antonio's a daily customer who comes by with any excuse so he can talk. To figure out how to get Antonio to like him, Lovino visits Emma (Belgium) quite often, and unintentionally makes Antonio jealous. Then the game of wooing begins. - Spamano fluffiness - ONESHOT.

Really cute and a quick read that´ll leave you grinning like an idiot

Haze by ChampagneSly

A random AU in which Romano is best friends with Veronika, who happens to be engaged to Alfred, who happens to also be Romano’s friend. Veronika has a bachelorette party and Romano, in his role as incredibly charming and handsome gay BFF, attends. Alfred would like details, please. Romano wishes he could remember what happened after the fourth gin martini.                       Oh, and Spain’s a stripper.

This fic is really cute and funny, I´ve read it about ten times and I recommend everyone else to do so as well.

Rebels in a sleeping city by norvegiae

"I felt like we were in limbo, two blindingly awake rebels in this sleeping city. I didn't know your reasons for being up and about. But, you were, and so was I, grinning at you like it was going out of fashion."

the kind of fanfic that will make you cry at 3 am but it´ll be worth it because it´s just so beautiful

How to care for your spain by AlexanderRyan

A guide written and published by Romano Italia. Strong (basically obvious) hints to Spamano.

really cute, simple + AlexanderRyan´s beautiful writing style

Change in routine by Roxi2Star

A look at Lovino and Antonio's changing morning routine.

I come back to reading this fic almost every month. It´s a really cute and fluffy OS that is written in a very interesting way.

The art of flying by TheGoliathBeetle

They’re both a little bit damaged, a little bit unscathed. Lovino can only truly see the world when Antonio describes it to him. Words can be magical, words can drive the darkness away. –Spamano one-shot. Blind!Lovino, Writer!Antonio, College AU-

kinda sad but really really beautiful, describes their relationship in a beautiful way.

Underwater Land  by satsukiarisa

Human names and A.U: Antonio was a merman. Lovino hated water. It was truly a match made in heaven.

This one is very sweet and funny and I really enjoyed readig it :)

The Romantic Developments of Antonio and Lovino Through Texts by Spinyfruit

Texting started gaining popularity in 1999, but it wasn't until the year 2007 that iPhones came out: then shit got serious and countries started texting each other. This is the story of how one happy-go-lucky idiot, and one stubborn idiot finally get together. It only took a few hundred years. Mainly Spamano with side FrUK, PruCan, Gerita, AmeriPan, and others.

ahhhh I love this one so much...I really like the texting theme!

Braces by Roxi2Star

Antonio just got braces, and is feeling very self conscious of them. Maybe Lovino, a cute kid in his grade ho also has them can make him feel better about having braces, and maybe realize their not so bad. Ok so maybe he becomes less self conscious of them, but in the braces are a pain. Especially when their stuck to another pair.

I was really happy when I rediscovered this one, as someone who had to wear braces for five years in total this is even funnier to me...

(Non Spamano Fanfiction) 

Asylum (Usuk GerIta)  by thealphagay

1963; Feliciano Vargas is the newest patient at Bitterwell Mental Asylum. One problem, there's nothing wrong with him. Trying to escape will be hard, trying to understand the dark asylum will be even harder. Because behind those gated walls are torturous methods, strange patients, and even stranger doctors.

Based loosely off American Horror Story: Asylum

i know i know this is a spamano masterlist but I really think that this fic deserves more appreciation , because it´s really cool. I had a lot of fun reading it even tho I normally don´t like Usuk that much.

[allyvampirelass29]

Murder at Cripple Creek

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

A boomtown swimming with ghosts Dead eyes can't hide Their hedonist living Drinking, debauchery and sinning Scarlet ladies having babies But a whorehouse is not a home Trading flesh for coin Tempting patrons, at the sacrifice of your boy Little Charlie grew up in the hellish dark The sins of the mother Scarring the son's heart Murder brewing in this simmering fleshpot Oh Hateful Harlot, Mother Manx Is is to your neglect and bitter thanks Your baby boy, molested, and you can't protect Your little dreamer from the wicked world you wrought for him Blood on a beautiful boy's hands But the only thing murdered here Is his innocence. Sending his rapist and that lustful bitch Back to hell Charlie, Charlie you're not a villain You had to save yourself.......

Is...... anyone alive out there? It's been days, and I'm still sobbing, my heart desolated by the roiling emotional turmoil, my ignited rage murderous. I don't know about you guys, but...... I'm an absolute wreck. WHY are you DOING this to me, NOS4A2!?!? After the brilliant turn of last week, the sleek sophistication, and glamourous entrapment, "Cripple Creek," was a backhand strike, a blatant violation that I never saw coming, and I spent the entire episode, quivering, sobbing, pleading desperately behind my hands plastered over my face, watching between my fingers, helpless to stop the punishing abuse My Charlie suffers in two different timelines, his bruises of an abused childhood mingling with the fresh wounds of now, as he is tortured, beaten and berated by Bing Partridge!!!

I hated this episode. I HATED it. There, I said it. But I think you're supposed to, I think that was the sole purpose of this traumatizing ordeal. However, as far as Bing (GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY BASTARD) is concerned, the writer's motivation seems drastically convoluted. If this was supposed to be Bing's Big Epiphany, his "redemption," (Ughhh seriously?) This episode fails miserably in accomplishing that. And if this episode was meant to do, what I had predicted back in Season One, cement him as the actual villain of NOS4A2, making him the more immoral evil, be his rise in notoriety, his coming of age as it were, into the monster he was always going to be, giving Charlie and Vic someone to unite their hatred against, it fails to do that too. The biggest misstep of the series, after so elegant a triumph, I'm going to drown my sorrows in ice cream, and try to forget that any of it ever happened. Close your eyes, and think of Christmasland........

I audibly groaned when we opened onto Bing at the Lake House. After so much needless repetition in an otherwise FLAWLESS episode, I REALLY did not want to relive Bing's point of view of the siege, unless it was him getting shot by white knight Chris McQueen over, and over, and over........ Thankfully, the rewind didn't last too long, but I was having NONE of his, "Are you there, God, it's me, Bing Partridge," moment!!! On his knees in the graveyard, (Why...... why are we in a graveyard?) Bing appeals to the heavens, proclaiming his own innocence, asking God to show him what he should do next. I snickered coldly, the whole thing melodramatic, and absurd, as he cries, "I've been so good!!!" Secretly, I was fantasizing about Buffy SLAYING his creepster ass in the graveyard, beating him bloody, before staking him in the heart with a witty saying like, "It's been a gas, Bing, but I get the last laugh!!!" Alas, alack, no such luck. His appeal to the heavens was answered not in divine intervention, but with bird droppings splattering in his mouth, which of course, translated in Bing-A-Ling Logic to, "Kill the FIRST person that tries to help you, bury him in the freshly dug grave, and take his keys!!!" It's PRAYING Bing, you dolt, not preying!!!

While the side quest FINALLY explains how Bing was able to catch up to Charlie and Wayne, after previously believed to be on foot, not to mention shot, which would have been IMPOSSIBLE, supernatural car not withstanding, it's altogether unnecessary. It was the less than scenic route to get to last week's blood-curdling cliff hanger, and I really think we could have done without all the maudlin hullaballoo, and picked right up from there. Also, it creeped me out BIG TIME hearing Bing Partridge say, "Hidey holes," because that's what I called them last week, when Charlie was adorably telling Wayne about his hiding places. "Look at you with your hidey holes, Babe!!!" Needless to say, Bing has ruined that phrase for me FOREVER!!!

"Charlie, Charlie, telling lies, soon he will be crying cries......" A chilling foreboding that was like ice in my veins........ I was definitely crying cries...... I literally WEPT with this horrid little rhyme, and even still I was so naïve, unprepared, for the gut-churning horror that waited in the shadows of a broken little boy's murdered childhood, and the degradation of the beautiful soul that survived it. It's one of the most grueling, and disturbing things, I've ever watched, and like my Darling Boy, strapped to the chair, enduring forced interrogation by gassing, brutal beatings by Bing's homicidal, ham-fisted punches, and some....... deeply unsettling sexual innuendo, I felt like I was the one getting tortured.........

I did utterly enjoy Charlie's feigned relief, as he uses that silver tongue, in valiant effort, to slip his way out of this sickening predicament. "Bing, My Dear Fellow, thank the stars! I thought you had been done in by those wretched McQueens!!" Charlie gasps, thankfully, knowing full well he'd left Bing behind to die, and for good reason. Any other time, this would have worked, Charlie would have used his coaxing charm, and Bing's oafish gullibility, twisted them into a breathtaking manipulation, weaving the lie that he had no choice but to leave him behind, and Bing would have eaten it out of the palm of his hand, because he wants that badly for it to be true. But Bing watched it happen, his face falling, as Charlie sped off without him, and he's DONE playing. Charlie's pleas fall on deaf ears, as Bing drugs him for answers, revealing the fatalities of every single one of Charlie's former accomplices, and with the finality of one apocalyptic truth....... Bing descends into a frenzied, foaming madness.

"Cripple Creek," is the double edged sword that none of us were meant to survive. Switching between the stabbing scenes of Charlie's withering assault, his lifeline to The Wraith, cruelly severed, and the slicing violation of his childhood self, his innocence massacred before our very eyes, our bleeding hearts never stood a chance. I always knew that Charlie's childhood was going to be horrid, downright Dickensian, devoid of magic and light, unloved by his drunk, whore mother, but I had no idea the HELL this beautiful boy endured at so tender an age, forever scarred, betrayed by the one person he trusted, respected, desperately in need of a father figure, only to be exploited in the most heinous way. It's a MIRACLE My Precious Love can even function as an adult, much less still manage to find wonder and beauty in the world, clinging, clawing to hold onto his ember, his remnant of pure light that persevered in a life of darkness.

The inexplicable joy at seeing a young Charlie Manx, aged 11 or 12, tapdancing on stage, along with the giddy marvel that this young actor looks just like our leading man in miniature, is short-lived, as a stranger takes an uncomfortable interest in him....... I don't know how, maybe it was the intent way he watched him dance, or the way he touched his shoulder a little too long, but I knew........ I KNEW this man was going to sexually abuse Charles, I felt it gnawing in my stomach, instantly unnerved, and I hoped with all my heart, my first instinct was wrong....... I'm devastated to say........ it was not.

Not only does this manipulative pedophile Son of a BITCH molest my baby, he first uses him to persuade other boys to flock to his house, knowing full well how much the young ones look up to Charlie, as their leader. He wins Charlie's favour and trust by befriending him, and giving our little darling the one thing he wants more than anything else. Escape. Escape from the vulgar, gratuitously sexual environment, that no young boy should have to endure, a chance to make money, have an honest, respectable living. A chance to have a father figure, a man to look up to, learn from, and take him under his wing. The shop owner offers all of that, with a crooked smile, the charade falling dangerously away, as he knocks back a shot glass, eying our boy, and then says in the cruelest, most chilling voice. "You've earned yourself some fun........"

Thankfully, NOS4A2 was not overly graphic in this lewd portrayal, but the innuendo was enough to make me ugly cry, and seethe, as this sweet child is violated by someone he admires so much, realizing in horror, that he led all of his friends to be mishandled in this same disgusting manner, like lambs to the slaughter. But our brave little Manx was NOT going to let this sin go unpunished, and I clapped, cheering him on, as he uses his sled, now tainted by its means of acquisition, to kill the shopkeeper, dark fire flashing in his eyes, blood splattering on the shot glass, and I've never been so happy, or nervously relieved to see someone die.

His mother comes to him, and instead of crying, and taking her boy in her arms, stroking his dark curls, soothing his fear, and assuaging his guilt, she just scoffs at his accusation, the picture of apathy, and places the blame back on him. "You knew too, Charlie!!!" You WHORE-ABLE Mother!!! Your son was just sexually ASSAULTED, and YOU DARE make it his own fault, like he'd turned a blind eye, and therefore deserved to get raped!?!? Charlie might not have killed her, if she'd actually had a maternal bone in her body, if she'd done SOMETHING, shown any sign of regret or compassion, but she doesn't, and I feel nothing but proud as he finishes her off too. Her death was surprising, given the admonishing way Charlie talks about his mother, creating the impression that she'd been a bane on his existence his entire life, and yes, as a writer, I wanted to see more of a direct conflict between them to make that defining moment that much more satisfying, but as a viewer, I was just grateful she was dead, and Charlie was free. The only murder perpetrated, the only death I mourned at Cripple Creek, was that of Charlie's innocence, his childhood slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Bing continues to torture Charlie in the present day, my chest shuddering with every thrown punch, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. What was the deafening truth spoken that sends Bing Partridge into a flailing rage, you ask?

"Christmasland is for children. We are special...... That's why we can't go......."

Charlie was never going to take Bing to Christmasland. All that this poor dope had lived for, dreamed of, for eight years, amidst his conning his way into dentists' offices, and offing mothers, and it was always a lie. I had suspected it the entire time, especially after the mention of a, "special feast," but what SHOCKED me the most, was the unimaginable heartbreak of Charlie's own deepest secret coming to light, and as Bing draws it forth, it's like drawing blood. In spite of being the architect of his lifelong dream, and greatest solace from a life full of abject misery, Charlie doesn't think he deserves Christmasland, because he sees himself as ruined........

I broke down sobbing, that pain, that anguish, that he's so long carried with him, ripping through me, and I'm tearing up even as I write this, remembering....... Charlie denying himself his own dream, seeing himself as a ruined article that might profane its pure vision, is a tragedy that I can't come back from. It's a sorrowful, aching confession, and yet somehow it explains so much, and in this, his greatest pain, his darkest secret, I felt intimately closer to him. At last........ we see why Charlie never stays long in his Christmas kingdom, why he's so focused on the next child, and the next, sacrificing time with his own daughter, because they deserve Christmasland, and he doesn't. Always the courier, never the partaker. Christmasland is for children, and Charlie Manx never got the chance to be one.

The searing pains of his past still guide so much of who he is today, placing a strict emphasis on propriety in every aspect of his person, in manner, speech, and dress, because he was robbed of his dignity as a child. I also, FINALLY, after two seasons, understand why he turns the children into vampires, a contradiction to his love of them, that has remained frustratingly elusive to my grasp. Charlie's childhood was taken from him, brought to a vulnerable, violent end, and by turning the Lost Children, theirs becomes eternal. They never have to grow up, and lose that purity, that innocence. I also realized, that by giving them their bite back, they are able to defend themselves, meaning no one can ever hurt them again.......

There was so much awful going on, so much inflicted misery, and disorienting chaos, that I was sure I'd heard wrong when Bing decides on an even more dehumanizing method of torture. Did Bing just...... call Charlie a BITCH!? I shook my head, but there it was again, and at this point I'd HAD it. Somebody give me a GUN, I will WASTE this SICK BASTARD myself!!! The skeevy sexual threat against Charlie felt like overkill to me, utterly ridiculous, a cheap shot at adding dramatic effect, especially in the face of his childhood shame. Bing has exhibited absolutely no inclination of...... swinging that way, as it were, before, and yeah they kind of threw in last minute that he'd done this to Mike's father, offscreen, but I don't know WHY he would do that, especially given his particular affinity for Mike. Charlie, himself, pointed out that there was no indication in the Graveyard of What Might Be that Mike needed saving, or that his father deserved punishing. It's awkward, and disturbing, and there seemed to me no method in this madness.

"If I'm a monster....... who deserves to die....... You deserve so much worse." BAM. Hell yeah, Babe!!! Thank GOD, Charlie's quick enough to convince Bing that he too is a monster, and we are spared any further asinine innuendo. Bing, after these series of unfortunate events, beating, berating, and threatening Charlie with rape, suddenly, deus ex machina-esque has a change of heart, and an epiphany that comes a LOT TOO LATE!!! We're both monsters, we BOTH deserve to die....... What we're doing is WRONG. Was I happy when Bing urged Wayne to go, and tell a police officer that his mom is Vic McQueen? Yes. Do I believe he did it out of the goodness of his heart, and has finally seen the light? Freaking HELL NO!!! Bing, after losing Christmasland, has nothing left to live for, and this is his way of giving up. If I can't go to Christmasland, Wayne can't go...... and he decides a bizarre murder/suicide in The Wraith is his final act of redemption.

Before they even showed the car crusher, I was already sobbing profusely, losing my freaking mind, because I had figured out exactly where Bing had taken Charlie.

"There's going to be two less monsters in the world........"

Meaning to crush them both, and kill the Wraith irrevocably, Bing puts on his mask, and presses the button. At first Wayne laughs, and thinks it's a game, his inner vampire child coming out, but when it hits him that Charlie's in actual danger, he realizes he has a choice to make....... Save Charlie Manx, or let him die, and go home safe to his Mom and Lou.

"No, My Boy, this isn't a game, it's time to play, Save Father Christmas!!!"

Charlie calls out frantically, coaxingly to his young charge, and I loved that so much, my heart overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, Wayne, PRETTY PLEASE save Father Christmas!!! A lot of people despised him for what happened next, screaming at Wayne for his choice, even calling him a stupid kid, but I, myself, felt even more love in my heart for that already dearly cherished little lad, as he smiles, and slams down on the button, halting the crusher, and saving Charlie from imminent death.

It's a profound moment, the abductee choosing to save his kidnapper's life, and many cried out strongly against it, but you have to understand....... Charlie Manx has become so much more to Wayne than the scary face in his mother's paintings. Here is a man that has shown genuine interest in his life, his hopes, his dreams, who has treated him gently, fussed over him, concerned, and who has come to love him like a father. Couple that with The Wraith's effects on Wayne, slowly tying the two of them together, it makes perfect sense to me, how this unexpected bond has formed. Yes, had Vic been there, herself, he would have chosen her over Charlie in a second, but when faced with the reality of letting Charlie die, our tender-hearted Bats just couldn't do it.

"Do think of me at Christmastime, won't you?"

CHARLIE. LIKE. A. BOSS!!!! The single greatest moment, and brightest scene in an hour of plunging darkness, is definitely Charlie, snapping back into his delectably dark, unrivaled perfection (although, I must say I still found him incredibly dashing in his distinguished grays) charging Bing Partridge, murder striking in his wild, smouldering eyes, stabbing him, with a reveling whisper, twisting the knife, with this most PERFECT line, that gave me wonderous, reverberating chills!!! I also LOVED how Charlie glowers in his lumpy face and says, "You were never special." DAMN that's HOT!!! My only grievance with an otherwise ENTHRALLING moment, was that inexplicably, yet again, CHARLIE DIDN'T KILL BING!!! Charlie has KILLED for so much less, and while he did offer a vague explanation about prison being so much worse for Bing than hell, it felt like hell frozen over that Charlie would ever let Bing live. I know this is the writers wanting to keep Bing around to creep another day, but MY GOD, hang that Partridge from a pear tree, and HAVE DONE already!!!!!

This was an especially dark episode, but there were flashes of some really beautiful, albeit fleeting moments, first with Wayne and Craig, and then with Millie and Cassie, though the reoccurring theme, the common thread, did seem to be Innocence Lost. I was startled with the The Wraith's sneaky trick of causing a child to forget their parents the longer they are in the car, and BLESS YOU, Craig for helping your son remember his mother, and fight the transformation!!! He tells Wayne that Vic's favourite movie was Jaws, and Wayne tells him that her favourite holiday is the 4th of July. (Which is really cool, because it's my favourite too!!!) This slows the Wraith's effects on Wayne, and becomes a very special moment between father and son, as they fight to keep Vic's memory alive.

"How do you know my mom?"

"She was my best friend."

More overwhelmed sobs, because apparently I haven't cried enough this episode!!! Craig decides not to tell Wayne that he's his father, but our little Bats is ingeniously clever, and I think he's going to figure it out before long!!! Another mini heart attack comes with a second lost tooth. The suspense of Wayne's slow turning, mirroring the tender emotion in this scene was fantastic.

Millie and her mother have a similar moment, and I thought that was BRILLIANT of her to introduce Vampire Millie to her former human self. The two play with dolls, and human Millie talks about how she can't wait to go on a date, and have adventures when she grows up! It's such an endearing scene, and also incredibly sad, as the pale, gaunt shell of Vampire Millie envies her bright, and bubbly human counterpart, seeing the hope and innocence that she's so long been bereft of. "She's me...... Who I'm supposed to be." Cassie explains that her father's sad fantasy is depriving Millie of the gift of growing up, and explains that there's nothing Charlie Manx fears more than a woman with her own mind, and that's the LAST thing he wants his beloved daughter to become. A woman that would eventually leave him. More tears. Poor Millie. Poor Charlie!! Can I just give everybody a hug!?

"Cripple Creek," lingers like BAD Dream, and all I want to do right now, is curl up with Charlie Manx, hold him in my arms, stroke his cheek, soothe him with the tenderest hands, and softest words, tell him he's beautiful, and that he deserves Christmasland, and the world, that he's not ruined, but PURE!!! This was my least favourite episode in the entire series, and just like, "The Gas Mask Man," will be skipped indefinitely in the re-watch, but like I said, it endeared Charlie even more to my heart, and I feel fiercely protective over him, over that goodness that still glows in his dark eyes, despite lifetimes of feeling unloved, and in ever-present pain. All I ever wanted in Season One, was a glimpse into the past that crafted my mysterious and refined vampire chauffeur, and this entire experience, My Darlings, is an exercise in, "Be Careful What You Wish For..........."

[cotillion-the-rope]

Not Hollow Chapter One: The Hollow Knight

A while ago now I had the idea for a fic along these lines that centered around Ghost and a silently older Grimmchild but unfortunately it failed, I just couldn't make it work. But then I had the idea to repurpose the general idea and have it centered around Hornet instead and so far it's working well. I should maybe finish this fic before I start to upload it to make sure but I'm getting impatient in part because I really like most of what I have so far *and* starting to put it up now should help give me the drive to finish it. So here we are. :)

Ghost stepped away from the now empty plinth that had once had Herrah laying atop it. She’d been the final Dreamer; the Black Egg should be open now. They could go do what they’d been called to do now which was… they still weren’t sure but it was important, vitally so.

There was more in Hallownest to explore and see, more lost memories to recover. But could they really afford to put off their quest any longer? They’d already spent so much time dilly-dallying around doing other things. And the longer they put it off the more they’d fear going because… once they went in, they would never come out, or so their instincts told them. Perhaps it was just a dumb fear but probably not. So, they should just go and get it over with already. … And yet their feet remained seemingly rooted to the ground.

Grimmchild let out a chirp behind, lightly headbutting the back of their head. They turned to look up at him. Before going into the Black Egg they’d have to figure out what to do with him, they couldn’t bring him in with them, it wouldn’t be fair. So… there was at least one more thing to do before facing their destiny. With that, they were able to take a step again.

 -

They searched far and wide but alas Hornet was nowhere to be found. Neither was Quirrel, he’d left his nail by the Blue Lake, which didn’t bode well but didn’t have to mean anything, did it? Maybe the Elderbug or Cornifer and Iselda would be willing to take on Grimmchild? … Probably not though, right? Elderbug lived too stationary a lifestyle and the mapmakers didn’t seem the type to be interested in kids, else they’d have their own, right? Which left no one who could care for Grimmchild.

He’d probably be okay on his own though, right? He could certainly defend himself and hunt for food. Ghost had already wasted enough time, they needed to stop making excuses and just do it before the Infection got any worse than it already was. … And before their fear grew too much and they began feeling tempted to flee from their responsibility.

Upon returning to the Black Egg Temple, Ghost took off Grimmchild’s charm and placed it on the ground just outside. They’d left him in places a few times before, never for long though. So, pretending this was just another one of those times, they gave him a quick pat on the head as he settled to rest on the floor before stepping into the Temple. A proper ‘goodbye’ would’ve been nice but… it was probably easier on both them this way anyway.

Inside, they strode right up to the Egg and let themself in through the now unsealed door. It was dark and cold inside, almost comforting as they made their way deeper and deeper in. Eventually they reached another room.

Chains suspended from the ceiling and anchored to the ground, wrapping around a figure suspended in the middle. A… familiar figure! Ghost had known them in their past life before the chains and cracked mask, before the orange of Infection filled their eyes. Ghost was here to save them, that’s what they’d been called to do.

They drew their nail and swung at the nearest chain anchor. With a few more strong hits, it broke with a loud clang that seemed to fill the empty air before dying out all at once. Ghost moved on to the next one, the figure in the middle… their sibling, tracking their movement with their head. How aware were they? Did they know Ghost was here to save them? … Were they suffering?

No answers were forthcoming as Ghost broke their chains. With the final one cut, they fell to the floor with a loud clatter. They lay there for a few seconds as if stunned or in too much pain to move. But then… they reached up and grabbed their nail, using it to help them stand.

The battle cry they released was… not right. It wasn’t their voice; they didn’t even have one. They swung at Ghost, their form good but subtly off… they’d been chained up for a long time and their arm was missing. This wouldn’t be a difficult fight.

It quickly proved to be an easy fight actually. Until… they started stabbing themself anyway. How could Ghost fight them when they were doing that? It was… too much to bear and yet they couldn’t look away.

Finally, at last they stopped and the battle resumed, more frantic than before. The root of the Infection used their body as if it were nothing but a lifeless doll for it to play with. It was time to stop this.

Ghost was careful not to kill their sibling which drew the fight and their suffering out longer but… it was better than them dying. Everything Ghost had done would be for naught if they died. It was hard but it eventually paid off.

Defeated but not dead, their siblings fell forward, their nail falling from their hand with a clatter. Void leaked out of them from numerous wounds, the most prominent of which was the one they’d inflicted upon themself. Thick orange mist leaked from the Infection boils that had taken their arm.

Instinctively, Ghost Focused, as if they were trying to repair and heal themself with soul. Instead of drawing in soul, they drew in the orange mist. It burned like fire but they persisted even when they were blinded by its burning light.

It would be fine. They’d saved their sibling. That had been their goal all along, they just hadn’t known it. So, it was worth it.

***

Hollow woke to pain and an empty head. … Empty of the Radiance anyway. Their thoughts and emotions were still there, the reason for their failing.

They were lying on the floor of the Black Egg. … How had they gotten there? Why was the Radiance gone? This wasn’t right.

Every movement hurt but they looked up anyway and… flinched. Their sibling was suspended in chains above them. … Hollow’s memories were hazy but they’d battled Hollow and took on the Radiance for themself. They weren’t hollow though, none of the vessels were or ever could be. And if they were, they wouldn’t have gone so far out of their way to not kill Hollow. Meaning they were suffering and would fail just like Hollow had. And… it was Hollow’s fault; if they hadn’t failed, this wouldn’t have been necessary.

Looking away in shame, Hollow reached for their nail laying a short distance in front of them. They used to help themself stand but only got halfway up before collapsing again. The void in the Black Egg had partially healed their wounds but not fully yet and thus they still hurt and leaked void.

Given enough time, they’d probably heal fully – except for the crack in their mask and missing arm, those seemed pretty permanent – but…  Hollow needed out of here. They couldn’t bear to look at the result of their failure when there was nothing they could do about it. And just the room in general was awful, they never wanted to see it again. They needed out!

So again, they used their nail to try to stand. But once more, an intense flash of pain in their abdomen where they dimly remembered stabbing themself in a vain attempt to stop the Radiance sent them back to the floor. Well in that case, they’d just crawl out. It was better than lying here beneath their chained sibling.

With only one arm and refusing to let go of their nail – it was the only thing they had – made it slow going and it hurt. They kept going though, not letting themself rest for too long lest they never move again. It took an age but they eventually dragged themself back into light, out of the Egg.

A distressed mewling and the sound of wings flapping drew their gaze upwards as a baby moth fluttered down to investigate. It settled on the ground in front of them, first to sniff at their nail and arm and then their face; a curious but harmless creature. Hollow let go of their nail and rolled onto their side a bit to lift their hand and lightly touch its head. It was warm and didn’t seem to mind, even pressing into their hand a little. How long had it been since Hollow had last touched another being? … It was impossible to even guess. So free of their prison but not their failure and too exhausted to go further for now, they lay there and let themself pet the baby moth.

***

Hornet watched as Ghost stepped away from the plinth where they stopped. Why though? They had stuff to do, didn’t they? Hornet wanted her moment to grieve without them there. And yet they didn’t take another step even as time went by.

She was preparing to jump out there and ask them what the heck they thought they were doing when Grimmchild bumped the back of their head. Finally, they moved, turning their head to look at him. After a second or two, they started walking again. Odd but… it didn’t mean anything.

As soon as they were gone, Hornet left her hiding spot. Herrah’s body was gone, dissipated into essence but Hornet settled by the plinth anyway, resting her back against it like she’d done so many times before.

She should say something, right? This was the only funeral her mother would get but… what could she say? She’d let it happen, watched it even, because what else could she do? Letting the vessel take the Hollow Knight’s place wasn’t ideal but what other way could the Infection be stopped? … If Ghost wasn’t hollow though it would only be putting it on hold again. …

They… no it, had to be though… right? Even if there were times that that didn’t seem to be the case like when it had stood still for so long after killing Herrah. It had to be hollow because otherwise Hornet was letting her sibling go off and… suffer basically for who even knew how long where they’d eventually crack too and the Infection would return again anyway. So… it was hollow and would contain the Radiance indefinitely.

[Sometime later]

The husks were empty and still once more and the Infection pustules that had taken over the Crossroads were dull and deflating, eventually they’d break apart into nothing. Ghost had done its duty, it was housing the Radiance now. Things were fixed… for now.

She really shouldn’t but… Hornet found herself headed to the Black Egg temple anyway. Just outside the door leading in was… a charm? She bent down to pick it up, giving it a better look. It had a likeness of Grimmchild’s face on it so presumably it had something to do with him. He didn’t seem to be here though so… Still holding it for now, she stepped into the Temple itself and froze.

The Hollow Knight lay on the ground just outside the Egg. It… they were leaking void from multiple wounds one of which was a crack on their mask. They appeared to only have one arm which they were using to pet Grimmchild. Both of them looked up at her gasp.

Grimmchild pushed himself off the ground and into the air. He mewled and chirped, flying in a little circle, clearly distressed about something. Ghost’s disappearance no doubt. Hollow just stared at her, silent and unmoving. Seeing them reduced to such a state after how strong they’d been last Hornet had seen them so, so long ago was… jarring.

She stared at them for a second or two before forcing herself back into action. She pinned the charm to her dress before approaching to crouch down beside Hollow, their head moving to follow her movements.

Hating that she had to do it but having no other choice, she carefully rolled them over to get a better look at their wounds. Their whole body went rigid, a clear sign of intense pain that they could never voice but they didn’t fight her and relaxed once they were lying flat again. … Thankfully though bad, their wounds weren’t immediately life-threatening so there was no need to worry too much yet. Their wounds did need attention as soon as possible though.

“There’s a hot spring not too far from here, can you stand?” she asked, hoping they could otherwise she’d have to…

They shook their head.

Welp that meant she’d have to help them get there but first… “Grimmchild, hush, it’s okay.” She tried to keep her voice calm and level because neither he nor Hollow needed her anger right now. But she needed Grimmchild to stop mewling and chirping and flying around in circles like it was the end of the world. “Your companion is fine.” A lie, a horrible, horrible lie. She should explain to him that it was hollow and thus just fulfilling the reason it was created and therefore there was no reason to worry or be upset because it didn’t even have feelings but she didn’t have time to right now. “So just… come with me and Hollow for now, okay? I even have your charm.” She wasn’t a babysitter but she couldn’t just leave him all alone just like she couldn’t leave Hollow all alone even if they weren’t injured.

Grimmchild chirped a bit more, sounding a bit unsure but she might’ve just been reading into the sound a bit too much – how intelligent was he right now really? But he did calm down, settling down to hover behind her shoulder like he’d done with Ghost.

With that handled, she turned back to Hollow. “This is going to be unpleasant but we have to do it, okay? And you have to help as much as you can, I can’t carry you, you’re too tall.” She should’ve been big and tall too but no she just had to take after the Pale King in that realm; one reason among many to hate his guts.

They nodded, a small motion but firm; they were as ready as they’d ever be.

With her guidance, they used their nail to help raise themself partially off the ground. Enough that when their legs inevitably buckled, they fell with their arm around her shoulders. Thankfully they weren’t too heavy, making it fairly easy for her to support their weight. What the raw void leaking from them might do to her or her dress she wasn’t sure and now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

With Hollow being half dragged, half walking on their knees the going was slow. And the fact they refused to let go of their nail made it a bit harder but she wasn’t going to begrudge them that, she’d probably have done the same with her needle. But after what had to be a rather torturous hour or so for Hollow, they did make it.

Hornet had never been more grateful to see a hot spring. She helped lower Hollow in before sliding in next to them. She’d deal with her dress getting wet later, hot spring water dried quickly anyway so it’d be fine. Grimmchild hopped in too, making a splash she might’ve been annoyed by if it wasn’t for how exhausted she was mentally and physically.

 -

A nudge woke her from a doze; she hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. Shaking the last of it off – or at least as much as she could anyway, she could still easily fall asleep in this warmth – she looked up at Hollow. They were looking back at her, their gaze empty but somehow intense too. … Or maybe that was just her imagination and guilt making it seem that way.

“Do you need something?” She hadn’t intended to snap at them but it was too late to take it back now.

They looked away. Offended or indifferent? There was no way for her to know or even begin to guess.

She did a quick glance around for Grimmchild because he was no longer in the pool. He was on the edge of it, his wings wrapped around himself as he slept. Looks like she wasn’t the only one in need of a nap. “How do you feel?” she asked, turning to look at Hollow again. “Or uh… are your wounds doing better?” Because it was easier for them to answer yes or no questions.

They nodded. The crack on their mask was still there which was a bit worrying but it was no longer leaking void. Their arm was still gone too, though the spring being able to heal that had been a long shot anyway.

“Good, stand up so I can see.” She stood up too, getting out of the pool before she started drifting off again.

Hollow obeyed, standing up with ease, a good sign for sure. And their wounds were healed, wonderful. But at full height, they hunched forward… not in a way that seemed to indicate pain or discomfort though. They just weren’t holding themself proud and tall anymore. So even though they were physically healed, mentally they weren’t and alas there was no magic cure for the psychological damaged they’d suffered.

“Looking good,” she said in her best encouraging voice. It wasn’t one she used often though and sounded rather insincere. With a sigh, she bent down to scoop Grimmchild up into her arms. He made a soft chirp ad shifted a bit but otherwise didn’t stir. “Now let’s find a place to sleep.” Did the vessels sleep? Surely they did, right? Ghost had a way to entering the Dream Realm after all. Did that count as sleeping though?

Hollow didn’t respond but followed her when she left, dragging their nail behind them.

Normally, Hornet would’ve just found a small hole to hide herself in while she slept. But while she could easily hide Grimmchild the same way, Hollow would be far too difficult. Not that they needed to hide anymore but it was the principle of the matter and it was better safe than sorry. Besides after how long Hollow had spent in chains, they deserved a comfortable place to rest regardless of whether or not they were capable of sleeping. So she started towards Dirtmouth. There were plenty of perfectly good empty houses up there and Elderbug should have no reason to care if the three of them stayed in one for a bit.

[thatonebirbnerd]

all of this is loveliness

Word count: 1869

Trigger warnings: PTSD/flashbacks (of canon and canon-typical violence), nudity, discussion of sex, several types of intimacy (but not the big one)

My body falls off the side of her bed And now I know what love feels like Don't let me turn into pain All of this is loveliness (source: AURORA - Soft Universe)

Eirwen and Lyri spend an intimate afternoon together while preparing for their wedding. Because the Commander and her lover both need a break. And a hug.

First time writing this kind of stuff, with no relevant life experience... here goes! Yes, the word count is intentionally nice lol.

AO3 link

“Hey! Get back here!”

Lyri chases after me, following the light only she can see like a flitting moth, as we run giddily along the winding paths of the lower Grove. I can only hope that to everyone else around us, we look like an ordinary pair of saplings having fun, naked as the day we stepped out of our pods. I had to let my crystal wings shatter for a while to make the illusion complete… but considering I haven’t been swarmed by adoring fans, maybe that was what I needed.

At last Lyri catches up to me, nearly bowling me over with excitement even though she’s much smaller than me. I let her have what she wants, and fall onto my back as she tackles me and rolls us both over and over. We laugh until we’re out of breath. It’s hard to believe someone loves me this much, for the first time since the Dream… since the moment I thought I’d never see her again. I wish our tumble across the grass could last forever, but alas, we come to a stop. Lyri is on top of me, her arms now wrapped around my neck.

“You wanna go inside?” Lyri’s voice is suddenly quieter. She’s trying to be sultry. It’s adorable.

“Sure.” I respond in a whisper. She giggles as she realizes I’m making fun of her. “Uhh… get on my back!”

I’m not sure where I got that idea, but I guess I said it anyway. I stand up, and carry her into our  cozy neighborhood of Dreamer’s Terrace as she whoops and hollers. “Oh, the pool!” she squeals. “Let’s do a double cannonball!”

There’s a pool of water just outside the spiraling, organic apartment complex we call home. It’s  small but deep, and hidden quite well from the city around it. Just have to walk through the mercifully empty atrium, and to the left…

“You’re getting heavy,” I joke. “Careful!”

I let my wings reform over Lyri, for just a split second, and carry us up in the highest leap I can muster. We both scream with delight as we splash down from the height. The noise we’re making must be tremendous. As we swim to the surface, I’m distracted for a bit by the thought that some enterprising gossip might find us here. We can’t attract too much attention…

“What’s wrong, dearheart?” I don’t know how Lyri senses that I’m distracted. Can she see the distant look in my eyes, or can she just tell?

“Nothing. Just… we might need to keep it down while we're here. I’m worried someone might barge in, looking for either of us."

“Then let’s just be quiet, and we'll stay for as long as we want.”

You know how I said I wanted that moment, just minutes ago, where we were rolling on the ground in each other’s arms, to last forever?

Honestly, I’d rather have this. Just the two of us, treading water. No words in the stillness, and no worry in our minds: no Bangar, no Jormag.

It’s cool and humid here, on the shaded lower level of the Grove. There are thick, tangled trees around the pool we’re in, and I can see street lamps poking through the gaps. The pathway leading past us, on the other side of the makeshift wall, is rarely traveled - and if someone were to pass by, now that we’re not making a ruckus, all they’d be able to see would be our heads. There’s a bath house to my right, next to the entrance leading back into the atrium - a good place to wash off the debris of a hard day’s work.

Lyri puts her hand on my neck, slowly guiding it down my back. It’s not often that she can see every detail, so she relies on touch to truly know me. Her hand comes to a sudden halt at the base of my spine, and her mouth makes a surprised little O. There is a sprout there, on both of our growth sockets, ready to burst into branches and petals that will twist around our bodies and become our wedding gowns. And these buds are why we’ve come home, free of the burden of armor, to see each other as we are. For now they itch, the wonderful itch of growth, and of a beautiful thing to come. But in a few weeks, she’ll be as gorgeous as ever, and I’ll just be… me in a dress.

The sites of my old scars are a little rough on Lyri’s fingers, even compared to her woody green bark. In seven years, I’d taken hits from blades, blasts, Brand crystals… the list was endless. I can’t help but think that if I were human, made of fragile flesh rather than sturdy wood, I would be dead many times over. Even if I don’t count the time I actually died.

Speaking of which, Lyri ducks below the surface and plants a kiss between my breasts, a bit too close to the remnants of Balthazar’s killing blow. I grimace a bit and recoil with a splash, even though the wound is long-healed. “Ow… careful!” The pain is more mental than physical; I’m trying to push back the memories of two and a half years ago. Now is not the time.

 As the waters calm, I swim back toward Lyri and press my palm to her stomach, on her own scar, a dimple in the bark. This one is fresh, barely a month old. From the arrow. I feel her breaths get quicker as she gazes at what little she can see of me, like a terrified puppy. She hugs me in a way she hasn’t before, holding on tight, begging for love and protection.

“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, Lyri. I’m so sorry.” She shouldn’t have had to suffer so much, shouldn’t have nearly died for me a second time. I don’t know how else to help, other than to return her embrace, tickling the buds in the small of her back. She ruffles my leafy hair, and her smile returns, a worried smile.

I stroke Lyri’s arm, and she giggles a little and relaxes again. Her limbs are just the slightest bit thinner than they should be, and she doesn’t have the endurance nor the strength of most sylvari. But there is no point in cursing a long-dead dragon for forcing her into the world early, too early to let her experience it with all five senses. I’d rather say the best words I can. “You’re still perfect, dearheart.”

Lyri lets out a contented sigh. “Eirwen?”

“Yeah?”

“What do humans call their loves?”

“Oh my goodness, you wouldn’t believe the names. “Cutie pie,” “sweetie pie.” Can’t blame them; pie is good. “Baby,” for another one, but what is a baby but a tiny helpless crying human? I heard something about “mommy” and “daddy” once, but that just sounded strange. Oh, and there was “honey.” I liked that one.”

“I like it too. Honey’s sweet. Fits you.”

“That’s funny; I was going to say the same thing about you.”

“Oh, and… what’s that other thing that humans do? The one in be-”

“Lyri!” My laughter is more of a cackle at that one. “I haven’t seen it! Wasp-stings if I know what it’s like! ”

“I’m pretty sure they use something down…” Lyri points between her legs. “…here?”

“Lyri, you’re killing me!” It’s a bit hard, I admit, to double over laughing while in the water.

“You know I ask stupid sapling questions sometimes. Learning more about the world makes me want to try new things, now that I have you.”

“What do you mean, “new things?””

“Maybe just… getting to know each other more, while we have peace and quiet. Would that be okay?”

“I suppose so. Just… don’t hurt us both, promise?”

“I promise.”

And then Lyri pulls me under.

But rather than take the lead, she lets herself sink into my arms. She caresses me, and I find myself exploring her in ways I couldn’t with my eyes alone, below the leaves that preserve some semblance of modesty to the folk around us. Hidden petals slip slowly through Lyri’s fingers. She offers less for my touch to savor, but there is enough; even nothing would be enough. We revel in each other, and it shows on our faces, in the gasps of pleasure and embarrassed laughs that come out only as bubbles.

Yet something nags at me. It’s not easy for a sylvari to drown. But… I’m thinking about everyone else. This time, I’m taken back to seven years ago, fighting in the foul waters of Orr. So many who shouldn’t have fallen. For a moment, Lyri’s face is the face of the only other woman I dared fall for, dragged into the deep by a Risen fiend -

No. Stop that. I sink to the bottom and open myself to Lyri’s kisses, or whatever she wants to do. But rather than oblige, she stops and leads me to the surface to breathe. She can tell I’m worried again. “Eirwen, what’s wrong?”

“I wish it were nothing. I was just… thinking about Orr. There was someone I… tried to move on with, after I lost you. I had to… leave her behind. But you’re here, so I shouldn’t be thinking about this -”

“You couldn’t save her. I can hear it in your voice. It’s okay, my light,” she tells me. “It took so long to find you but… now I’ll always be here. You’re safe.” I have to repeat those final words to myself before I can believe Lyri’s reassurance. “And I forgive you.”

---

The unbridled ecstasy and lingering fear gradually wear off, and I lead Lyri toward the water’s edge and into the bath house. I gently move her arm toward one of the streams tumbling from crevices in the walls, and the water dances over her palm. She jumps back a bit and turns to face me with a smile, before walking toward the waterfall again to rinse the muck out of the vines that adorn her head. I join her, and we frolic for just a bit longer, splashing each other playfully and slinging the silliest of flattery back and forth.

“Mordremoth must have been terrified of allowing you to see how beautiful you are.”

“Good thing that damned dragon couldn’t handle your biceps!”

At last, Lyri yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Me too.” For a moment I hear a whisper in the back of my mind: rest. No, it’s safe to do that here, so far away from Jormag. “Want to lie down on the shore?”

“With you, yeah.”

I hold Lyri’s hand and guide her over to the pool. It’s dusk now, and her faint golden bioluminescence is beginning to peek through as we watch fireflies dance across the pond. She curls up on the damp, mossy soil, her head on one dainty arm. “Love you, you big glowy thing,” she says sleepily.

“Love you too… honey.”

As she nods off and I lie awake next to her, my bark against hers, I realize that maybe this is the moment that I want to last forever.

[docgold13]

Hey, on the unfortunate Biden scandal. I will vote blue regardless. I believe the allegations. Trump is worse. And a vote for a 3rd party is a vote for Trump. My friend on Facebook is a hardcore Bernie supporter and instead of criticizing trump he tears apart Biden in support of Bernie. All I see is a man sabotaging his own political party. We have to realize our voting system is broken and once again we choose the lesser of 2 evils. Every 4 years we have to teach the stubborn this same lesson.

It’s a sad, unfortunate truth.  

I imagine with the combination of trump being as mind-numbingly bad as he is, coupled with the upheaval caused by the pandemic, many might feel now might be rare opportunity for something truly new and radical to occur.   

Alas it is not to be, but the hardcore Bernie backers are going to need a bit more time to let the pain subside.  Prior to Super Tuesday, it really looked as though Sanders was going to win.  To be that close and see it slip away has got to hurt - and this allegation has acted to further delay that process.  But hopefully logic will prevail among my fellow lefties.  

Based solely on anecdotal evidence, I’ve found that the people voicing a willingness to throw away their vote in protest... are ones who have relatively little to lose in another four years of trump.  Someone who is Black or Muslim or LatinX... someone who is a Dreamer and/or someone who wants to retain control of their own reproductive rights are all a lot  less likely to abstain or vote third party out of protest... ...in that a second term of the trump Administration is a highly dire and threatening prospect.  

I’m very liberal in my views, but also know my high minded ideals were fostered from a place of privilege.  To abstain on principle would be a betrayal of everything I claim to support.  trump is a disastrous combination of psychopathy and incompetence.  He must be voted out.  Even if it had been that pseudo-democrat Bloomberg as the nominee I’d still vote for the lessor of the two evils.   To do otherwise is, in my view, immoral.  

So yeah, I’m committed to voting blue no matter who, but will admit a definite lack of excitement over Biden.  Harris or Warren I could have gotten really enthusiastic over.  Sanders as well.  Yet, while the disproportionate/biased news coverage didn’t help, it’s plainly clear that the majority of Democratic voters are still rather centrist and the absolutely critical voting block of Black Americans chose Biden by an overwhelming margin.  

Unlike other elections, 2020 is about vanquishing an evil rather than implementing something better.  It would have been great if both could be done at once, but that’s not how it panned out.  

Desperate times require cool heads and pragmatic thinking.  Allowing emotion to get the better of us will only prolong the suffering and injustice that trump and his flunkies has wrought.   

[addienadelaide]

Roleplay plots

Muse A and Muse B are coworkers/classmates/ roommates. They see each other often and are friendly but not super close. Sounds mundane, right? However all is not as it seems. Muse A has been randomly gifted with unusual...abilities since birth. At a young age, they were recruited by a government agency to combat the dark forces lurking behind the surface of the city. Muse B, on the other hand, possesses an inherited talent- their family has been able to control (fill in the element) for generations. Unfortunately due to issues here and there, they currently run with the local crime syndicate, a powerful dark movement that had slowly but surely usurped all the others. Friendly by day, enemies by night, how will things turn out?

Marianoh's Culinary Institute is the most renowned school for culinary arts in the country. Any who truly wish to be a master chef would be foolish not to attend. Unless they don't have the means- the tuition is insanely high. Muse A is part of the lucky few of humble beginnings that has been selected to attend via scholarship. They couldn't be more excited. Muse B, on the other hand, comes from a family of celebrity chefs. Their spot at Marianoh's was confirmed before birth. Yet somehow, they don't share Muse A's joy. Far from it actually. What happens when the two are partnered up for the year?

Every night, Muse A looks forward to going to sleep. There they can escape from everything that hurts. However, something about the dreams is strange. They're a bit too vivid, too real. A scrape from tripping showed up in real life. A hair cut gotten from the friendly barber was actually done in the morning. Strange. Muse B works a night job for Corporeal Dream Corrections Society. Each officer there is assigned a vivid dreamer to protect, entering the dream world along with them. Stakes are high; death in the dream translates to death in real life.

Muse A has always been at the top of their class since early elementary and thrived on it. They come from a family of high achievers where failure is neither seen nor accepted. Proud and arrogant over their achievements, their grades make them, them. All that changed when Muse B showed up, smashing the entrance exams with marks unheard of. Of course Muse A wouldn't take that lying down, thus, the classic rivalry begins. What happens when the two find they have more in common than they thought? Life on Muse B's side is not all it seems as well.

They were the perfect couple; everything any pair would hope to be. Everyone thought they'd be married, be together forever. They thought they would too. But alas it was not to be. 5 years down the line, hurt, jaded, bitter, and completely cynical about love, Muse A decides to finally move out to the big city, taking an office job. But what do you know, the one who destroyed their heart, Muse B, happens to be in the cubicle next door. To say things get off to a rocky start is an understatement. To make matters worse, they're partnered on the next business proposal.

Muse A was on top of the world once. All the good stuff- academic whizz, popularity, star athlete, a modeling gig, you name it. Then, they began to see things that weren't there. A couple years of misery and occasional public meltdowns later, the star status was gone, fair weather friends along with it. Skip forward a year or so, they're the creepy loner in the back of the classroom. Not that they care anymore. They just want the spirits to go away. Muse B has always been the friendly/caring type. Everyone else's problems are their problems. A classmate of Muse A's for years, they couldn't help but notice the rondo to destruction. They take it on themselves to help, to save Muse A from whatever it is that's claiming them. But how can they do that when Muse A won't let them in? And how can you fight an invisible, but very real foe?

Muse A was born into a society where 'falling in love' is not a thing. Sure, it's written in about fairy tales and even history texts, but most Readers laugh it off as a silly, archaic concept. All couples are formed by reading Cerebral wavelengths, stats that are unique to every individual. Every person has a single match and are paired with that person permanently when they come of age. No trades, no take-backs. Muse B, though born into the regular world, doesn't believe in love either. Perhaps it was the plight of their parents, or that one nasty breakup. Perhaps it was the sight of all the couples around who'd be love-dovey one week, but strangers the next. Whatever it is, they don't buy it. That suits Muse A just fine- their Cerebral wavelengths not only don't match, they bang together in a cacaphony. Why is it then that these two begin experiencing an undeniable pull to each other?

One night, Muse A is taking their usual jog through the park when they trip right over Muse B tying their shoe. Cliche start is cliche, I know, but stay with me here. After some initial awkwardness, the two hit it off quite well. Flash forward a week or so and the pair are starting school in the same class, Muse A as one of the typical debutants, and Muse B a lucky upstart on a basketball scholarship. Muse B had high hopes for where things'll go...only to find out Muse A has a boyfriend, who happens to be Muse B's nemesis on the courts. Whoops. But something's really off with the couple. As in the boy is downright awful, and it isn't just the rivalry talking. Yet Muse A refuses to leave him...why is that?

They were the voice in their head. The imaginary friend. For as long as they can remember, Muse A and B have always been there for each other when the other needed it. But to everyone else, it's all in their heads. He was saved from that riptide by pure chance and luck, despite being unable to swim. They were coming for her, but she found that little nook to hide in all by herself. Flash forward to current day, the two are attending the same university. Muse A is an upstart, trying to make a name for himself academically and socially. Muse B is the opposite, the social anxiety fueled by a rocky past relegating them to basically a shut in. Their grades, on the other hand, are phenomenal despite barely ever attending classes. A convenience random convenience store run in. A forgotten wallet. The two meet in person for the very first time and then...?

This follows plot five vaguely, but with a twist on the setting. Please note the idea for this world is not mine, but I unfortunately don’t remember the title of the original story. If this sounds familiar to you, feel free to comment the details and I’ll credit the story! Anyhow, in a smaller country, tucked away from the rest of the world, people are born into a unique system. They are either Energy Givers or Energy Takers. Their ability activates from a young age and they are paired with the most compatible one of the opposite ability as soon as possible, usually early elementary school. Energy is transferred from the giver to the taker via a kiss on the lips and must be done at least once a day. While partners are not necessarily romantically involved, the two depend on each other immensely. Without receiving energy, the taker will quickly tire, weaken and collapse becoming comatose and at risk of death. If they do not give energy, the giver’s energy supply builds up making them suffer from nausea, lethargy, fevers, and other unpleasant symptoms that will gradually worsen to the point where their life is in danger. Should a pair of partners be separated either through death or other means, the lone individual must visit a donation center where they will be paired with a donor that somewhat matches until a more compatible, new permanent partner is finally found.Now for the main plot. Muse A and Muse B are a Giver-Taker pair that has been together since childhood. Their feelings grew from platonic to romantic and by high school, the two were a golden, seemingly unbreakable couple. Near the end their last year, all comes to a grinding halt when Muse B suddenly breaks up with Muse A and disappears. Five years down the line, Muse A is a jaded, lonely individual, known for constantly going from donor to donor. Deciding they need a change, they take a teaching job in a boarding school on the other side of the country. Yet when they walk into the faculty office on their first day, they find themselves placed in a desk right next to Muse A. Not only this, the two are in the same department. How will things proceed?

[sasorikigai]

Send a muse + an ending || @lotuskissed​ || accepting 

BAD END- The bad guys win. Everything that can go wrong for my muse had gone wrong.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| Hanzo Hasashi always had been a dreamer; for a dreamer is one who can only find his way by tenebrous darkness, leaning against the cool moonlight. And his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. The sea of wildfire, flowing with life through passionate veins, will condemn the prospect of evil as once severely depressed, a miser with a sole survivor’s guilt hellbent on destroying himself, rendering him as a heap of smashed bones with crushed skull, with splattered, liquified viscera that would entangle and gleam against his ancient katana. The suffocating trauma, the mind’s entombing shackle is too unbearable and toxic that he refused to live no longer. 

Not like this, not as the slave of his emotion and living with a forced, unwilling choice to drag forth his life, instead of living his life to the fullest. Unending guilt and abundant responsibilities as the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster prevents him from doing the honorable deed. Hanzo always feels such debilitating emotions with its full effects. While he knows life always finds to offset the opposites; as happiness couldn’t be known without sadness and there would be no light without dark. While most emotions are best, ephemeral at best, his obsidian, hollow darkness was all that was vast, dark and unknown. While the rest is ancient stardust; ever-changing and ever-knowing, but alas, the dark matter that once entirely engulfed him in entombed glacier - as de-spined head of his would stare the world with vindictive ember glowing as Fire Demon of Scorpion would resurrect him, so that he could become an Infernal Spectre of Vengeance and Wrath. 

All his life, Hanzo had been damaged; learning, yet making the same mistakes over and over again, trying to better himself, as he matured little by little. He’d literally waste decades trying to quell such hatred - mostly towards himself, but of the world, of his damned fate - and he still doesn’t know why he pushes good things away and self-sabotage. Even with the imbued Jinsei coursing around his body, giving him semi-immortality (hadn’t he already defeated death not once, but twice?) As serrated blade and kunai pierced his being, as thousand screams gurgled in his throat and tearing through his brittle bones and blackened heart. Hanzo Hasashi’s being shattered into stained glass mosaic, yet he could never view himself as a work of art, lest a masterpiece as beautiful things become the gentle curves of his musculature and chaos of the soul solidifying the vehement grandeur of his mind to become something else. 

Even fabricated perfection, the undying life itself could cast tenebrous shadow on its flaws. Hanzo remains enraptured in the illuminative light, of unperturbed tranquility may pour forth, yet such indescribably beautiful things have to come to decisive ends, as the curves and chaos of the reality as nothing, really, is permanent. The whole concept of being refined into perfection is mistaken; as the definition is ever-changing, even for the same person. Over time, it all moves out and the hands that draw the finish line blur from within. The Shirai Ryu will die out, and diminish in its size, an more greater, wicked evils will rise. 

The alliances will crumble into pandemonious disarray and once fulfillment of his solidified relationship will disintegrate. Kenshi will meet his gruesome fate, diabolically tortured beneath Red Dragon’s hands, Takeda will never see his offspring as he would meet the same fate, trying to fend off the world’s darkness. Jacqui may have grown older than both Takahashi’s, but it doesn’t mean that the Specialist’s fate would be no less afflicted with ravaging war and annihilated Earthrealm. The fissured engulfment will drown the world in magmatic flames, as the Netherrealm’s infernal, destructive fire will drown the world in torrential floods, as what Hanzo Hasashi had known of the Earthrealm will simply vanish. Even when the scorched nothingness of the Earth will reconstruct over so many uncountable years, nothing will be ever be the same. Even when impervious power and prowess of him grew stronger than ever as lightning sparked within his bones and veins, he would be without company. The unending perpetuity of loss and death will take its toll, laminate into Hanzo’s brains that no signs of supremacy that comes from his overachieving fluidity of his soul that seek flawlessness will suffer in more tribulations. 

Hanzo Hasashi will get too blinded by the definitions imposed by him on him, and no one will ever fathom to understand the condemnation that is his immortality. The once immense, healing and soul-filling love he once had with Kuai Liang will crumble just as the impermanence strikes once again and the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster will become an unhappy man, who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like moribund music, worse then the requiem he’d sing repeatedly as the torturing fire within his heart will soar and suffocate him. One miser’s death would have made the world much adaptable place to live, instead of the Earthrealm’s fate and fragile sustenance hanging off the cliff’s edge, as being toyed around under numerous Titans’ hands, as if they were casting lots. Bound by the Earthrealm with coursing Jinsei in his blood, his fate will entirely depend on the existence of the realm he had vowed to protect with all his life. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥||

[nickel-tongues]

Act I Scene I

(Curtain opens and there is no stage)

STAGEHAND

(fallen on the no-stage, covered with wounds for which he has no blood)

TYRANT

Have you no conviction in your beliefs? If you do not bleed for the audience, how should they know that you are our Martyr?

STAGEHAND

(silence, for he is Dead)

KNIGHT

(She cannot enter, for there is no stage)

(She cannot speak, for she to, is an unknown Martyr)

DREAMER

(They have been here for all time, have you not noticed?)

DREAMER

But woe betide the leader who cannot see his own peoples' suffering. And fear the man who will not deign to concern himself with the rapture of the human spirit.

TYRANT

Dearest, do you not realize the folly in your thought? Do you not see the crime in your passion? To suffer is the state of all humanity, and tis only the Fool who believes that he may change this.

That is why I play the Tyrant yes? I have not been disillusioned by the Knight's self-imposed righteousness, nor thine blindness to all that is true and right.

DREAMER

Love, pray tell that tis not Justice herself who wears a blindfold against the manifold deceits of man?

KNIGHT

(attempts to draw curtains, but alas, she cannot, for there are no curtains)

TYRANT

(dons a mask and comes alive)

TYRANT

Goodnight, fair Dreamer, a good show tonight, a lovely play at living.

DREAMER

(returns to the stars)

KNIGHT

(Bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and bleeds)

(Curtains close)

Tagging: @thesnowflakeemporium

[loisfreakinglane]

top 10 fanvids

tagged by @sofiaboutellla IN A ROUNDABOUT FASHION

okay so if i was a dragon, and i had my hoard of dragon treasure, it would be fanvids. i love them i love them a lot i love them so much i have saved A STUPID NUMBER of them onto my computer you could probably send me any fandom i have for a top 10 fanvid list and i would have an abundance of recs i have a PROBLEM

so. that being said. i don’t know how to make a top 10 favorite fanvids of all time list bc i just. i have way too much. but i can give you a random assortment of 10 that give me feelings and i’ll try to make it varied :)

THE iconic ot3 leverage vid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrqWzkoTJGQ

btvs/ats, everybody, heartbreak https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJxdZjkU8C8

dark angel, max guevara, HOLIDAY light hearted and fun feels https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHg9YARiDVk ORRRRR dark angel, x5s, raising hell ACTION AND FEELS https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5utDk8631c this still counts as one!!!!!!!!!

game of thrones, SAAAAAANSAAAAAAAAAAAA *crying emoji* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOp3gbTDHoA (OR IF YOU’RE IN THE MOOD FOR MARGAERY..... AND EMOTIONS....... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bA-SJ15qLnY )

kings, jack, jack/david https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a80luMJGZPg

roswell, dREAMER, one love https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RZ-iU5luqM

aos, daisy johnson, don’t let me down https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyEiCzWkCZY 

atla, series vid, million little gods  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tiSvd9ZlSE

city hunter, yoon sung/na na, angel with a shotgun https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkEM0tupilI

wonder woman across canon (but pre-dceu) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yivtn1qRo20

honorary mention to the million vids i cannot find on youtube but that are amazing and you should all see someday, most importantly all the tscc jesse vids i wanted to share but alas we must all suffer instead

@lexmurphy DO YOU HAVE ANY TO SHARE? i tag anyone who wants to be tagged