#all suffering is a small piece of what Jesus suffered

[queenlucythevaliant]

There is something about sitting still while someone else stabs you with needles - about helping her find the places where the injections need to go - that's a very little like Jesus going willingly to the cross.

[sahisan]

— ooh, i still have your lighter.

featuring . chuuya nakahara.

tags . sfw. swearing. exes who can't get over each other. unhealthy coping mechanisms (mostly for reader (alcohol)). mention of smoking. a lot of alcohol. angst. a lot of angst. more angst. could've been 5+1 typa thing but it's not that, just small drabbles. gn reader. wc 1.9k.

author note . this is like actually very rushed because i really want to sleep but i needed to finish this before going to sleep so yes. maybe i'll beta read in the morning. maybe. also almost died writing this bye why do i love suffering. also guess what the name of this one is taken of.

"i still have your sweater."

chuuya hears how your voice is a bit quieter and more slurred than usual due to the effects of alcohol in your blood, and he can't really tell if he likes it or not with how you'd woken him up at nearly 2am to talk. again. sure, alcohol and all that, but he doesn't know if his current, sleepy comprehension of what's going on is better than your drunken one.

he intakes a breath at your words.

"the grey one," you continue quietly, and chuuya can hear you shifting your head on whatever you're laying it on through the speaker. "i haven't even washed it yet. it still smells like you."

in that very moment, he wants your drunk ass to just shut up and go to sleep.

but then there's your voice. intoxicated and quiet and soft, almost as soft as it was when you'd talk to him when you were together.

chuuya hates reminiscing.

he remembers that sweater. just a plain, grey sweater, but he also remembers you taking a liking to it very quickly. he still remembers you walking around in it, still remembers how he had to force you to take it off because you wouldn't budge.

he remembers a lot.

"just how drunk are you," chuuya mumbles as if scolding or complaining or both, but he can't deny that he tries to mask the shakiness in his voice with the sounds of his bedsheets' shuffling.

"mmmaybe two sake bottles in," you tell him then.

"jesus," he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. he's trying to remain composed, but god, is it hard. not only is he pissed off due to your drunk phone call, but a mix of bitterness and sorrow also runs through him at the realization that you still have a bit of him in your life and you still keep these bits.

well, he isn't any better, actually.

"you still got my sweater, huh?" chuuya blurts, trying to ignore the ache in his heart.

he scoffs, a frown on his face. his tone is harsh but his actual feelings still somehow manage to show through the way he speaks; he's hurting more than he's angry.

"...i still have your stupid fucking lighter," he ends up mumbling after a beat of silence.

there's more silence from you as he says the words, and chuuya exhales a breath through the lump in his throat, wishing for it to just disappear.

he hears you hum. "the silver one?" you ask, and it's his turn to hum in reply. "...you still use it?"

"yeah," he ends up breathing out.

"every fucking day," chuuya responds, words much softer now somehow despite the curses, his eyes now fixed on the ceiling above him.

and it hurts, it really does. to know that you, despite having a new life, still call him when drunk, still own his sweater, and now the realization that he still holds a piece of you as well.

he never told you that, never said a word about how the lighter never left his pocket ever since you left him, and he wasn't planning on, but chuuya, in fact, had started smoking much more since after you left.

he hopes the lighter will never break.

—

chuuya hadn't answered your calls for a month.

"where the hell have you been?" you throw at him instantly the second he picks up on the fourth ring.

"in france, idiot," he points out with a scrunch of his face, plopping down on his bed and exhaling a near groan-like sigh, the memories of the recent overseas mission creeping up his mind.

fucking city of love.

he hears you hum, and then sound of rustling, as if you're shifting in your own bed. you're not drunk this time—thank god—but you do sound a bit more... melancholic, if he compares to your voice during the latest calls.

"mm, and how was france?" you ask, voice slightly quieter like you're focused on something else besides the call. he hopes you aren't.

chuuya scoffs. he takes in a breath, turning to lay on his side and press his phone to another ear, "ça aurait été bien mieux avec toi," he mumbles out at an exhale, using the harsher tone of voice to make it sound like he'd said something bad about his trip—and not like he'd said something about you. no. not in a century.

and you laugh. you actually laugh, and, at first, he doesn't understand why—at what are you laughing? did you somehow understand what he said? were you secretly learning french all these years away to catch him saying something like this? could be possible, knowing you, but the sound of your laughter literally interrupts all his thoughts and he can't focus on anything—

"at least translate, come on," he hears you say, voice still a bit breathy from the recent laughter. "don't tell me france was that bad."

chuuya has to move his phone from his ear for a good few meters away to exhale a loud, relieving breath through his mouth.

"not translating you anythin', i'm not your personal translator," he says once he brings the phone back to his ear, scowling and huffing. "you're gonna struggle with trying to understand what i said for the rest of your life now, that's what you get."

he still has to get over the sound of your laughter. perhaps it's the first time he's heard it in years.

("would've been much better with you.")

—

it's nearing half past midnight, and chuuya, somehow, already knows you're drunk as hell as he picks up the call.

he's in the middle of a trip back home from work when he does, leaving a single hand on the steering wheel as he answers.

yeah, you're definitely drunk.

"enjoying yourself?" he mutters dryly, huffing out a breath as he hears your nearly incoherent mumbling on the other line.

he listens to it nearly a minute, stuck on a red traffic light.

"hey," chuuya calls out quietly, exhaling a sigh, he's really gonna have to do this now, isn't he? "be a dear 'n pass the phone to the bartender, will ya?"

it's a miracle you do as told, as intoxicated as you are.

once he hears the shuffling sound of that said bartender picking your phone up to their ear, he asks for the address, and once he gets it, the traffic light turns green and chuuya goes for a quick "u" turnabout, making his way towards the bar, not before asking the person on the other line to watch over you so you won't wander off before he arrives.

you're already slumped on the bar counter with your arms under your head and a finished glass of—clearly—something strong beside you as chuuya comes through the door.

he thinks of if you try to silence your desire to call him every time with alcohol and if it—alcohol—almost always makes it worse. it certainly does, he catches himself thinking.

he thanks the bartender for the address, paying for you and carefully swinging your hand over his shoulder to safely exit the bar and carry you over to his car, listening to your drunken babbling all the way through.

chuuya sighs once he gets you into the passenger seat, and you seem to almost immediately slump into the leather.

so you've had that much.

he can work with that, now that you're already fast asleep as he's back to starting the car.

once him and you in tow are at your doorway, he fishes the keys out of your pocket and lets himself in.

your apartment has remained as he remembers it—there are some minor changes, but the little details are the ones that he notices first and they're still there, even throughout the years.

at least you have some sort of stability in your life.

chuuya ends up shrugging off your outerwear and shoes and bringing you over to your bedroom, contemplating about whether or not you would like to wake up in fresh clothes im the morning, but he realises thay you two aren't that close anymore for him to go through your closet and, moreso, change your clothes. he lets it stay like it is.

before leaving, chuuya makes sure to place a glass of water and a pack of hangover pills on your nightstand.

he leaves using that same spare key you made for him years ago.

his forehead finds the steering wheel as soon as he collapses into the driver's seat.

—

"we should stop doing this," you tell chuuya quietly during one of the next calls, and chuuya can tell you loathe the words coming out of your mouth.

you're absolutely sober this time.

"we should," he confirms just as quietly, staring up at the ceiling above his bed.

there's silence on both ends for the next five minutes. after that, you wish him good night and end the call.

chuuya doesn't try to bring his phone away from his ear for two more minutes.

—

tuesdays are always shit.

chuuya does not want to receive any phone calls on a fucking tuesday night while he's buried in paperwork and stupid reports, but he ends up receiving one.

from you.

he nearly snaps his phone in two once he picks it up in his free hand, stopping for a moment as he sees your contact popping up on the screen.

he hesitates for a moment, the hand holding the pen he was previously writing with halting.

chuuya exhales a breath, eyelids closing. he presses "accept".

"what now?" he snaps as soon his phone touches his ear.

a moment before he did so, he could hear you intaking a breath as if you were preparing to speak. as if you were excited to propose something.

you're silent on the other end after that. he can tell you were taken aback, but he was really just too tired to care. maybe.

"...you, me, chateau latour 1977?" your voice is quiet; quieter than it was supposed to be before he snapped, and he can actually feel it, because your voice actually falters in the end, but he can trace the bits of hope remaining in it.

something in chuuya's chest squeezes at that, and then he registers your words.

...oh.

you're inviting him over to drink.

...oh.

chuuya is actually silent as the gears turning before in his head and the flow of his thoughts literally stop—they just stop. there's nothing in his mind except for your voice offering to drink together. he unintentionally drops the pen from his hand.

and then his eyes shift towards the two incomplete stacks of papers on the table in front of him.

you over work? his ex over work? his ex the thought about whom he can't seem to be able to get rid of as much as he wants, over work?

what an easy choice.

unfortunately, today is one of the days when chuuya ends up speaking before he thinks.

"i'm busy," he ends up barking in the end, ending the call barely a second later.

he stares at the now lit screen of his phone, showing the earlier message from you, containing a single photo of the wine bottle you'd offered him just a minute ago.

he stares at it, and stares, and stares some more, before he throws his head back and clenches his eyelids as hard as he can, because his eyes suddenly start watering with tears.

chuuya is an idiot.

—

"i'm sorry."

chuuya doesn't remember which of you two said this. he hopes it was him.

"i know."

he doesn't remember who replied.

call ended.

—

[0livdocx]

Howard Hamlin: illusion of burning sins

Inspired by Better Call Saul S04E01 - Smoke:

“There’s something else that’s still burning after the fire that took Chuck’s life.”

I originally drew this piece at the start of the year, but recently I got back to it and decided to add some spice. Despite some small errors, I like how it looks now. Yum!

My creative process & thoughts for this piece:

It’s originally a self-projective piece partially about my mental struggles, but I won’t be talking about myself here.

Let’s focus on Howard Hamlin in this episode, right after Chuck’s death - Unforgivable as Howard Hamlin thought he was, he was partially a scapegoat for Jimmy McGill’s deeds. I’m putting Howard in the frame, but it is reflecting an aftermath of Jimmy’s self-denial and psychological manipulation driven by his own insecurities. Jimmy told Howard “that’s your cross to bear” while the sentence also serves as a suggestion to the audience that Howard is indeed a sacrifice to Jimmy’s self-loathing and avoidance. Jimmy McGill would be the illusionist who casted this whole “illusion of sins” upon Howard Hamlin’s already conflicted mind. Would you feel pity for this guy? Vince legit made him cry for your pity.

Everything is still about Jimmy McGill, our cunning, venomous perpetrator. Self-loathing and antisocial tendencies are a part of his true nature. Did he see Howard’s distress? Did he see Howard Hamlin’s suffering? He did. But this man closed his heart to them, just like the way he run away from himself. Jimmy McGill’s lack of sympathy is one of the very things that brought Howard into his grave. Just how pathetic Howard is? Grieving for his misplaced error in the dark, this man is oblivious to the fact that he was already entwined by the serpent: a cold blooded creature who would never change its nature - the snake here serves as a symbol of Jimmy McGill’s inherent antisocial tendencies. Howard could never foresee the future of this serpent sinking its teeth into him and pump out its deadly poison, which will finally give him the kiss of death. Even the stars that will guide him on his path cannot save him from this misery. Personally, 401 feels like the beginning of the downfall of Howard Hamlin, and the rise of Saul Goodman.

If we think about the causes of Chuck’s death, it’s not hard for anyone to see that Howard Hamlin, this poor man is overshouldering someone else’s sin - someone who’s unable to face the responsibilities to their own actions, someone who’s in constant denial, someone who’s too much hatred in their heart. (Naw Howard is legit Jesus here💀) it’s why I chose to cover Chuck’s face with the cross too, for how Jimmy mislead Howard into believing that Chuck’s death was all his fault, when Jimmy himself was the main perpetrator.

Anyway, in later seasons of the show, we can notice that Howard was crumpled up and put into somewhere he didn’t belong, he’s forced to face this superficial alienation - his marriage was falling apart too. With this vulnerability, Vince showed that this lead lawyer of HHM was stuck, he was conflicted, his glory was wearing off, he was struggling like every normal person would. He was burning not only because he’s trapped by guilt and sin, but also for the reason that he has the vitality to “burn” and release energy: He is resilient. He has the life inside of him to be burnt.

Compassion creates a sense of closure between characters and audiences. The entire tight spot in Howards life conveyed by Vince makes audiences empathize with him easily - honestly I never felt a thing for Howard Hamlin’s boring ass because I was busy siding with Jimmy McGill in my mind in the first few seasons. What’s interesting about Brba/Bcs is that Vince put us in front of a quandary: who would you side with in a fucked up world with fucked up people? When watching the first few seasons of BCS I put my empathy in Jimmy McGill, but then my empathy slowly detached from him as the show progressed.

As for Howard, I just pity this man as an audience after witnessing his fall presented by Vince in the later seasons: what Howard deserved was anything but a nameless grave with his murderer, a defamation, and a twisted, made-up story stated by his perpetrators on his funeral. Vince made it obvious to the audience. Yes. Let’s make this glorious man suffer. Let him be guilt tripped. Let his life fall apart like a roller coaster so you’ll lay your compassion and love onto him - Howard Hamlin lost everything, he didn’t even have a death with dignity thanks to the people operating the fucked up bullshit in the dark - It’s interesting to notice my “love” for this character is originally out of compassion.

Despite Howard, there are lots of characters who deserve audience’s love. There are Nacho, Mike, Gus, their motives are even noble if you try to look at it from a humane perspective, but anyhow they’re all part of this gut-wrenching predatory game - it’s basically how everything is so complicated in a world depicted in Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad, they create intricate conflicts. I do love how fictions like BrBa and BCS allow us to explore the complexity of humanity in a safe distance.

As Howard Hamlin was buried, Saul Goodman buried Jimmy McGill alongside with him too. And then there’s Lalo Salamanca lying beside Howard Hamlin like they’re doing pillow talk - they are both powerful beings taking high positions in the BCS food chain. As they disappeared, the path for Saul Goodman’s career to ascend is broad and clear. A cucaracha rising to the top, and this time he’s fully embracing the darkness.

In conclusion: Great make-believe, Vince!

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

I make four Milf Models on the list (and a Fifth on in Shiranui) and then I go and find Six more 'Mature' Gems! Dammit...

Anyways let me introduce the Six new candidates.

1.) Cattleya (Queen's Blade)

Not gonna like, I know noithing besides that she has huge tits, glasses and is a blacksmith with hella muscle... That is more then enough! I would make her son and Jaune friends, and Cattleya is the only woman the Arc trust to forge their weapons and upkeep them. Her son Rana is one of the only people Jaune trust around his sisters.

2.) Kie Kamado (Demon Slayer)

So truth be told, I have not watched Demon Slayer... And this woman and her four dead kids are why! Like THE FUQ!? Jesus man this crap broke my heart, I... I just moved right along to happy anime cuz that shit makes me sad as fuck... So yeah they would live in Ansel, and she would be Juniper's best friend and one of the very few women he can understand the sheer difficulties of raising a small team of children. But worst, because she has to do it alone... Then Grimm attack, and while everyone else is trying to protect their own. Little Jaune rushes to help his best friend Tanjiro and his siblings! Auraless and with only his families sword in hand that he can barely wield the two boys actually manage to kill a Beowulf and proceed to get them to the safety of the Arc House.

3.) Shizu Shinazugawa (Demon Slayer)

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK!!! Seriously this woman somehow had a worst death then Kie! SHE ATE HER KIDS!!! WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL!!! OH! AND LETS NOT FORGET THAT SHE WAS GETTEN BEATEN BY HER HUSBAND!!! God Dammit, at this point I'm starting to think it's a good thing pig boy was raised by boars. If his mom had been with him instead of abandoning him in thew woods (I assume) she'd probably be dead too! Much less lightening whiney bitch I swear don't give him a tragic backstory too! I do not want to like him... As for shizu, Imma play the Cardin card, and say the two older brothers are bullies in Ansel. Lashing out at others because of their abusive father and of course Jaune is a very ripe target, the envy of the pair because of his kind strong father. Jaune is mad, but after talking to his sisters he decides to invite the boys over to dinner, and try to be friends, after all like his mom says, friends are just strangers you haven't met yet. And besides... Their like him and Tanjiro, he heard they have a lot of siblings too. They should make a club together! It is as little Jaune is having these thoughts that he stumbles upon it... then father beating them, them and their poor mom! And much like with the Ursa Jaune rushes in. And gets beaten within a inch of his life, but doesn't stop, grabbing forks, spoons anything he can get his hands on... Telling them to run, to get his dad. Papa Arc does come forward and what he finds is his son, bloody, beaten barely able to stand, but standing he is, and protecting the poor lady with a broken leg from her evil husband... And then the man is gone, his head taken, the Arc Patriarch not hesitating for even a second.

4.) Ruka Rengoku (Demon Slayer)

'It is the obligation of those born strong to defend the weak. Don't ever forget that..'

That Fucking Line! That Fucking Line Right There Makes Her Hotter Then The Other Two! Oh and what do you know, another piece of shit husband!

Okay, so I get he only turned piece of shit cuz she died bu-NO! You Know what, Fuck that Your Son Died Cuz You Couldn't Step Up And Live Up To Your Wives Words! Fuck You!!! That Drunk Bastard Insulted her memory and made her have to suffer meeting her son FAR TOO EARLY!!!

There is no way this woman doesn't hate her husband from beyond the grave! So here what would happen, Shinjuro would snap earlier then like when his wife is first diagnosed with the disease. At first he tries to stay strong but then begins to drink, then gets pissed when told nothing can be done!

And then in his denial he tries to force them to leave to Atlas, to hopefully find a cure or way to treat her... But Ruka refuses, Ansel needs them, negativity has been on the rise and Grimm have shown up more often. So he begins to drink and rant, and rave and Ruka watches her husband betray both himself and her faith in him.

And then he leaves, taking her with him one night, in desperation kidnapping his own wife against her will, her body far too weak to resist to take her to Atlas forcibly if needed. He uses a favor Papa and Mama Arc owe him to watch his kids while he's gone (Lying and saying he convinced Ruka)

And it is as he was gone that Ansel was attacked, his sons forced to fight, children like them, Jaune, little Tanjiro and the Shinazugawa brothers barely managing to take his place, but not without injury.

When he returns, he isn't met with scorn, nor blame... Not from anyone, except his wife! Ruka will not forgive him, and would rather die alone then married to him... He leaves, bitter angry but knowing she was right. And it was as this was happening that her son brings Jaune to her, the boy noticing several cuts and bruises she'd received from her forceful travels... He reaches out, and uses the power he discovered while the held off the Grimm.

The power that let mere kids like them fight and barely make up the difference her Ex-Husbands absence... His Semblance, Aura Amplification, every doctor had told her her disease wasn't treatable because her body simply lacked the strength to fight it, her immune system was too too compromised and her body too fragile by that point to maintain.

But Jaune's power, it's strength was one of a nature to empower others, to share with them his strength, his vigor, his will and soul, and Jaune wouldn't stop sharing his strength until it was enough to save her!

It was the logic of a simply youth, if he could kill monsters as big as Grimm, he refused to let small ones so tiny and weak take one of his friends moms! The same woman who told him he could be a huntsman! No! That said it was his duty to be one! Well What Kinda Huntsman Couldn't Save a mother!

5.) Rinko Iori (Gundam... Apparently -///-)

I...I did not know she was from a anime... I firmly thought she was a hentai mom... But no, apparently she is from Gundam. Well, I think I've said enough and these pictures hopefully speak for themselves...

I'd say she is a Argus mom, and helped Saphron and Terra navigate raising their first kid.

6.) Mirelia Q Melromarc

She Is A Queen! (Literally!) but no... Like seriously she is best girl, she showed up and everything, oh everything just turned pure euphoria for me. And God Damn She hated her husband! I wish they went more in on how thoroughly pissed she was in the anime like they did in the light novel.

Seriously a fucked up daughter and husband... just... Fuck man, and seriously FUCK BITCH For What She did! (If you read the Web Novel you know what I'm talking about) And fuck Trash too! Y'know it was so he could have a redemption Arc.

Fuck that, as far as I'm concerned those two need death like I need air. Naofumi is her (Only) daughter's fiancée. Which means she's in need of a new consort, a noble, strong, kind one who has a sharp wit.

[sssarrrra]

𝗔𝗺𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗴𝗼𝘇𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗶𝘀: 𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗲𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗗𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗼𝗱 (𝗯𝘀𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝟭𝟭𝟱–𝟭𝟭𝟳)

It's interesting how Fyodor positions himself towards Fukuchi, whom he calls a “Devine being”. Fukuchi or Amenogozen, as he is now, is the closest thing to “God” we can have on earth. And Fyodor is absolutely thrilled to control this DIY Devine Bring. Is it a blasphemy? Maybe. But let's look at what Amenogozen is.

How did Fukuchi turn into him? What happened to Ouchi's mind to make him act like he does now?

Amenogozen is Fukuchi's desire to get rid of suffering amplified. Ouchi used to see the whole world's agony as his own. Now he is a literal embodiment of everyone's pain, big or small.

Amenogozen has only one instinct – to turn everyone into bubbles and store them inside himself. He isn't just killing them, he “eats” their souls as well. When Fukuchi erases a person in this way, all of their suffering becomes his (along with their memories and identity), thus giving their souls piece.

Amenogozen isn't explicitly hateful or cruel, but he is also far from human. He seemed to genuinely empathize with Teruko and, especially, Kunikida, during his last moments. He saw their anguish, sensed it (Teruko's grief, Kunikida's fear along with wounds). And Devine being thought he would help them. He would erase their suffering.

This is what Amenogozen sees as his mission: to kill every person, swallow their pain and “save” them by turning them into pure emptiness (in a cloud of bubbles, yes).

Gozen grew to respect Kunikida during their brief interaction. He even acknowledged that Doppo's ideas can transcend death itself. And yet, Fukuchi still decides to kill him. Because he sees “death” as the kindest option for every living being.

It seems like Ouchi came to this decision during his transformation. For us, it all happened in a few seconds, but for him, it probably lasted for centuries. He travelled through time and space indefinitely, until he became a Singularity. From outside it looked like a brief flash of light, but it continued for eternity in his mind.

Off-screen, Fukuchi went through a psychological torture like no other. He was forced to observe everything that happened to humanity, while being outside time and space, unable to do anything. Of course, he saw an immense amount of pain history is filled with.

Ouchi watched it unfold in front of his eyes, like a helpless disembodied ghost, unable to die or let go. He, who thought of himself as a warrior, was forced to be a bystander to everyone's agony. It all continued indefinitely and was extremely traumatic. Eventually, Fukuchi discarded what was left of his humanity and became “God” to survive seeing all the visions of pain.

As a result, suffering became the only focus of his broken mind.

I think this what Dostoevsky has hoped for. Because he came to the same conclusion after living for centuries. “Death is the ultimate salvation, and nothing else can help”. So Fyodor hijacked Fukuchi into the same mindset by overloading his brain with the images of agony.

Now, Amenogozen sees pain as life. They are inseparable from each other from his view point. So his goal transforms into erasing all suffering, by erasing all life on Earth. Fukuchi wants to be the one who bares the whole world's agony, while everyone's soul rests peacefully within him in the blissful oblivion.

Amenogozen is a twisted, distorted caricature of Jesus. He takes on everyone's pain by killing them. It's a befitting path for an ex-war criminal.

And what about Fyodor? Does he call Amenogozen “devine” just because of his immense power? Dostoy certainly enjoys watching Yokohama being cut into pieces. But that's not only it.

Fyodor nicknamed his new weapon "Devine power" based on his philosophy about God.

Fukuchi isn't entirely gone. His motivation is what drives Amenogozen forward. Singularity craves to erase every source of pain / life, so much that he is ready to become a sinner, a monster, an empty void.

Just like Fukuchi in the past Gozen uses his body until he doesn't resemble a human anymore.

Ouchi lost his sanity due to his immense desire to free people from Samsara. Now he is a literal monster, but he is still trying to help and "save" everyone from pain, albeit in a twisted brutal way.

And this what makes him so close to a “devine power”.

Because to Dostoevsky, God is someone who encapsulates everyone's pain, carries everyone's burden. Just like what Fyodor tries to do as his loyal servant.

Despite this, I think Fyodor calls Amenogozen “God” ironically. He doesn't see Fukuchi as such, but he “compliments” him for trying. Because Dostoevsky realizes how truly selfish this newly formed “Devine being” is.

Before everyone's salvation, Amenogozen desires oblivion. He wants to disappear. But, just like Fukuchi, he can't do that, until his mission is entirely complete.

Amenogozen sees everyone's pain as his own. So he erases it repeatedly, as if it can save him. He can't distinguish his own soul from everyone else's, so he kills himself again and again through others, but still remains alive.

Amenogozen seeks relief through self-distraction, something to what Dostoevsky relates too much.

And Fyodor smiles because he knows: real God is only yet to arrive.

[harrywavycurly]

Im obsessed with Lonely because it gives me how an actual marriage promise with your bestfriend would go. They just propose to you randomly because of a promise made in like the first grade😂 but I’m here to see if we could get how it went when Harry asked Gemma for the ring??🥹❤️

Hiii babes!! Ohhh yes I agree it does give what it would actually be like if you and Harry made a marriage pact for when you’re 30 and single you just marry each other but fun fact, you forgot about it but Harry didn’t😂😂 I will happily give you the conversation Harry had with Gemma to get the ring! I hope you enjoy💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

*this is dialogue style because it just ran smoother in my brain this way*

A/N: Harry needs his older sister to give him a small piece of jewelry but Gemma isn’t giving it up without some conditions✨

“I’m sorry…Harry you’re doing what?” “You having trouble hearing already? Is that something I have to look forward to down the-” “Really? This is how you want to go about asking me for Nan’s ring? Insulting my hearing and I’m assuming you were also about to call me old?” “I mean…it’s rude to assume things Gem..now did you really need me to repeat myself or-” “I just need to know I heard you correctly that’s all…you’re asking your bestfriend…whom I adore by the way…and love probably more than I love you if I’m being honest…you’re asking her to marry you and you want to do it with Nan’s ring that I currently have possession of and…you’re doing all this because…you’re lonely?” “Yes that’s all correct…but also it’s because I just..I think she’s always been it and I do…love her ya know? I’ve always loved her and…I want to be married and maybe have kids and I just don’t know why I can’t…see that happening with anyone…but her?” “But do you really love her Harry? Asking someone to marry you isn’t something you just do on a random Tuesday because you want to be married because you’re a bit lonely.” “Yes of course I really love her…I don’t…I don’t know if I’m in love with her but I just can’t see a life without her in it and I know she’s lonely too…so why shouldn’t we just…end each others suffering and be together?” “End each other’s suffering? Jesus….Harry you’re making this sound like a business deal than an engagement…do you realize how much this will change things for the two of you? No matter what her answer is?” “It’s not a business deal…she’s my bestfriend and she knows me better than anyone and I know her like the back of my hand so I know she’ll say yes…I…I know she will because she…she just will.” “And if she doesn’t?…are you prepared to not have her anymore because once you get down on one knee Harry you can’t undo it and go back to being friends.” “I think…yeah I think I’m willing to risk it because…she’s my person and I’m ready to just get on with it and be with her.” “Romantically? Or would this be a marriage of friends?” “What? Of course it would be…romantically…I love her…we’ve…like…done things so it wouldn’t be weird-” “I don’t need the details thanks…but you said so yourself you’re not in love with her?” “Well yeah not…yet but if she says yes then I’m sure it’ll happen…but look…I just need the ring Gem..that’s all I’m here for really…I appreciate the advice and all but I’m doing it…with or without the ring but I’d much rather give her something meaningful than something she’ll think I spent too much money on.” “I just don’t want you getting hurt…or hurting her.” “I’ll do my best to make sure no one gets hurt.” “I’ll give you the ring…but you have to make sure I get to be your best man…or whatever you want to call it.” “Really?….fine that’s…doable.” “And you have to name your first child after me in someway.” “Gemma be serious.” “I am being serious! This is a family heirloom I’m giving you Harry so take my conditions or leave and go to Tiffany’s or something.” “God you’re so annoying at times…but fine…fine yeah okay….anything else?” “She’s the only one that gets this ring Harry…if she says no you give it back to me understood?” “Yes…understood.” “Good…does mum know?” “No…and you’re not going to tell her either…or else.” “Or else what? I’m not afraid of you little brother.” “I’ll tell her the exact reason her beloved rose printed tea set is missing a tea cup…” “you wouldn’t…” “oh I would…so don’t tempt me Gem…keep this conversation to yourself.” “You’re such a brat…fine..I won’t tell anyone now go away before I change my mind.”

[delphi-shield]

ᴀ ɴᴏɴ-ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏꜱꜱ & ɢʀɪᴇꜰ // claire redfield

Claire Redfield x Reader hurt/comfort, fluff wc: 1.4k read on ao3 we always talk abt leon's raccoon city trauma but claire was there toooo she had hopes and dreams and her aspirations were ripped away from her in one night!!!

summary: Raccoon City took parts of Claire that she can never get back. She suffers prettily most days, a poster-child for how to handle survivor's guilt. Others, she torments herself with what could have been.

Or;

Claire decides to go back to finish her interrupted undergraduate degree.

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, reader's pov

Claire keeps washing the same damn coffee mug.

It's been like this for the past five minutes. Claire half-heartedly scrubs at the cup, her mind somewhere far away, eyes glazed over.

That's what you picture, at least. From where you're seated, you can only see her back, her profile carved from the warm light of your apartment. It would be idyllic if you didn't know better. Stress suspends her at the kitchen sink, a string wound between her limbs that pulls her taut.

“You're gonna scrub the design off,” you warn. It takes a moment for your voice to penetrate her stupor. You picture her blinking, shaking her head slightly. Her ponytail swings gently, the image of her in your mind transposed into your kitchen.

Claire shuts the water off. She grabs a cloth to dry her mug. A new fixation. She's rubbing the damn thing hard enough that the ceramic squeals under her grip.

This is the part that takes patience.

Claire's been hemming and hawing like this for weeks now. It's never shaky hands and uncertain words with her - it's furrowed brow and loud huffs, a tumultuous battle within herself that leaves you in her wake. Dinners alone, late nights spent peering around the corner of her office, asking her if she's coming to bed. She returns your texts late, disjointed thoughts spilling into midday messages. You piece her meaning together from the shrapnel. Collateral damage.

As much as you'd love to light the spark in her eyes again, to smooth the worried creases from her forehead and ply what bothers her from pursed lips, you know it's futile. She needs the time and the space to tell you on her own, when she's ready. Push too hard and you'll get burned.

It's not work that's troubling her - you had checked. She presents at a conference next month, but in typical Claire fashion, she’ll do all her worrying about that the week before.

Chris is fine, too. That's the other big one that sets her teeth on edge. You'd checked in with him the other night. (Though you always suspected he alerted Claire of your calls. He wasn't good at keeping secrets where Claire was concerned. You're similar that way, you suppose.)

The cup stops squeaking. You lift your head up, dare to peer out of your foxhole. Claire's back is still turned to you. You duck back down, scroll on your phone to paint the illusion of casualty. Casualness, you correct yourself.

“I'm thinking about going back to school.”

You don't even pick your head up. “Oh, like for your master’s?”

Claire’s silence raises your eyes. Her shoulders are still drawn up high in her cream button-up.

“No,” she manages. Jesus, you've never heard her sound so small. “For my bachelor’s.”

You set your phone to the side and nod to the seat across from you. Your cheek squishes against your fist and you carefully curate your expression. A vulnerable Claire is a volatile Claire.

“So, like, a different major, or..?"

“I don't know.” Frustration sets her brow in a harsh crag. She huffs, swatting the question away with a hand.

Just gotta let her work this out, you remind yourself, biting your tongue. Something about this has her flayed open in her own home. She folds her arms across her chest, hands slotting against her ribs to stem the bleeding.

Claire's eyes flit to your phone. When you don't pick it back up, refuse to scroll aimlessly until the conversation is forgotten, she scowls.

“You know I never graduated, right?”

“Really?” You blink, shrug, anything to stay nonchalant. “I guess I just figured you had.”

“I finished my freshman year. Then Raccoon City happened.”

Your heart dips. It always comes back to Raccoon City eventually. You wonder if she spends more time in that burned out shell of a city than anywhere else, if her far-off looks always lead her back to the decimation and the rot.

You reach across to squeeze her hand. “You wanna go back?”

Claire nods. Her eyes filter past you, over your shoulder.

“I don't like leaving unfinished business.”

“I know.”

“God, it would be expensive. Like, a total waste of money.”

“Weren't you just bragging about TerraSave's tuition reimbursement plan like, a couple weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but…” The argument dies on her tongue, her words splattering on the table between you. You trace idle shapes against the back of her hand, waiting for her to disarm herself.

You can think of any number of reasons to tell her not to. You're sure they're the same ones that spin in her head now. Realistically, she doesn't need the degree. Not having it isn't preventing her from progressing in her career. She's been more than successful without it. But this isn't about her future. It's about her past.

Finally, she takes her finger off the trigger. Her shoulders round. Whether it's in defeat or acceptance, it doesn't make much of a difference.

“I don't know, I just – I'm almost 40.” She rolls her eyes, trying to cover up the way her voice had softened. “It's kind of weird to go back and sit in Comp 101 with a bunch of eighteen year olds.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Claire snorts, but the set of her shoulders doesn't round like you'd hoped. You reach across the table, fingers loosely encircling her wrist. “I'm serious, baby. Who cares? You'd tell me the same thing.”

“You don't think it's a waste of time?”

I don't think anything that helps you bury Raccoon City is a waste of time, you want to say. You weave around the landmine instead.

“No way. What major are you going to pick?”

“I was a psych major before everything…” She gestures nebulously in the air between you. A soft tap-tap-tap stirs from beneath the table, her heel clicking against the floor anxiously. “You know.”

You hum and squeeze her hand a little tighter, try to drag her off the streets of Raccoon City. You bounce ideas off of each other, both serious and silly.

This is nothing that will be decided over The course of one night, but she ends up leaning away from psychology. It's more practical to study business, she says. More useful for her work.

You've long devolved into talking nonsense. Claire had asked about your college experience, and you'd picked the stupidest stories possible, trying to see her smile, to see her throw her head back with laughter.

You pause mid-sentence, gasp, eyes sparking bright. “Oh my god, you're gonna be a non-trad. Let's get you one of those backpacks with wheels.”

“Stop,” she laughs, swatting your arm.

“I'm serious. You gotta have the full experience.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“You have to walk down the middle of the sidewalk no matter what.”

“I'm probably just going to do online classes.”

“And you only have two speeds - really fast, or the slowest walker on campus.”

“I'm definitely doing online classes.”

You shake your head. You're definitely ordering her that bag, even if she won't use it. As much as she travels, she might actually get some use out of it, even if she isn't physically attending classes.

You rise from the table and fill her sparkling clean mug with a layer of honey (local, the farmer's market last Saturday, her hand in your back pocket and fresh banana bread dangling from from the bag in the crook of her arm) and switch the kettle on. While you rifle through the cabinet for her favorite tea, you drum up your courage to ask something that could sour the peace.

“How come you never went back to school before now?”

For a moment, you worry you've ruined things. You peer over your shoulder at her, evaluating the thoughtful look on her face carefully.

“I had a lot going on. There was this whole thing with Chris, and–” Claire looks over at you, mischief burning in her eyes. “Hey. Did I ever tell you I'm not allowed back into France?”

“What.”

“Yeah. Not kidding. Hope you didn't want to honeymoon in Paris.”

The kettle clicks off. You nearly spill the water on yourself trying to pour her tea. Bustling back over, you carefully place it in front of her and then careen into your seat. Your chin drops into your hand.

“Tell me everything.”

Claire laughs. Her limbs loosen, both hands curled around her favorite mug. She leans in close and starts her tale. Paris, Antarctica - you wouldn't believe her if she were anyone else.

But she isn't. She's Claire Redfield, and she's finally back in your apartment, hand curled around your thigh. There's no Raccoon City in her eyes anymore. It will be back - she will always be there, in part. You aren't naîve enough to think otherwise. Tonight is proof, though, that she won't be stuck there.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Been having some trouble with ye old autistic burnout, so I wrote a fluffy little piece about it.

Ghost x M!OC Darren "Thumper" Martin

Unedited, just straight fluff and comfort, enjoy <3

Ghost finds Darren in their base's kitchen, he's perched in the uncomfortable metal chair that's really too small for any of the 5 men that live there.

He's been sparse all day, slinking around in the background. A shadow, not unlike Ghost himself on some days. It's not uncommon for Darren to slip off on his own. He knows his limits, and Ghost often leans into his room to find him napping, tucked into a bear sized burrito with the fancy little sleep mask Gaz gifted him. It fits him perfect, even has little bluetooth speakers so he can play white noise to block out all the rest. 

Usually he reappears after an hour or so, the buzzing rain cloud of too much noise and fluorescent lighting temporarily shooed from around his head. 

There appeared to be no such reprieve today. Darren was far away from himself, faded into the background from his usual interactions. Ghost knows the signs well, has an easiedr time spotting it in others than himself. He usually gave Darren the opportunity to regulate himself before butting in. 

And Darren had given it a try really. Ghost had watched him fuss incessantly with his shirt, the familiar soft cotton suddenly too tight and itchy on his sensitive skin, cuffs hugging his biceps too much, clinging to his stomach. Hands rubbing over and over along his thighs in an attempt to smooth away stress. He'd changed his shirt at least 3 times if Ghost had noted correctly.

He'd even braved lunch with them, wincing slightly at the whir and inevitably blaring beep of Soaps microwaved macaroni. Pushed around his food for a bit before giving up, throwing it in a container to hopefully attempt later.

He'd avoided the gym all together, and then dinner, shooting a quick text to Price to let him know he was feeling ill. Wanted to rest. Ghost doubted Price bought the lie either, but decided against pressing the issue. 

Ghost had resolved to check on him that evening only to find it empty in the late hours of the night.

And so he finds him here, bundled in a big sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head, leg bouncing rapidly as he stares at the container of leftovers he'd put away that afternoon. He holds his head in his hands, looking equal parts disgusted and distressed.

“Why you thumpin’ Thumper?”

Darren jumps, big body jolting hard enough to make the chair squeak as whips up to look at him.

“Jesus christ, I didn't even hear ya come in.” He gives him a superficial nervous laugh, hiding his face again. Ghost hates it, when he hides his face. But he can’t say much, he hides too, keeps the mask on, hides earplugs or headphones underneath so the buzz of electricity doesn’t drive him mad. Rotates the same 4 lunches over and over in such a way as to not draw too much attention. He understands. 

He knows the pain, the frustration. Feeling like a silly cartoon thermometer, smoke fuming from his ears when Soap asks him one to many questions, the rising pressure of discomfort that never seems to shatter the glass, just mounting pressure that makes him feel like he’s suffocating in his own skin. And even with all the therapy and little tricks sometimes self soothing can only carry him so far. And while he thinks he understands why Darren suffers now, this was not the time for blunt solutions. This would take some tact, gentle prodding to keep Darren from buckling down and writhing himself deeper into the tangle of troubles that has him staring at stale mashed potatoes at midnight.

“Gonna tell me what's got you worked up?”

Darrens shoulders sag, and the other leg fires up in its bouncing, moving in an opposite rhythm to the other. Darren tries to wait him out, but Ghost is having none of it. Let’s him sit and writhe in the uncomfortable silence until Darren finally spits it out. 

“Lieutenant, it’s fine-”

“We ain’t workin’” Ghost cuts him off sternly, moves to sit down in the chair beside him. 

“I’m hungry.” he throws at the table, tired, antsy. He crosses his arms over his chest, squeezing tightly, another barrier he attempts to put between him and Ghost. 

Ghost’s eyes flick between Darren and the plastic container, prompting him to keep talking. Darren squirms.

“Its..It’s not that serious, I’m just being a toddler about…just,  I know I need to eat, It’s why I’m pissy. Everything just sounds bad, and I’d rather starve than eat any of this shit. But I need to eat.” he snaps, more at himself than Ghost. 

Ghost knows the feeling all too well. 

“Alright, if you could have anything right now, hot or cold?”

“What?”

That get’s his attention, tired gray eyes flicker up to meet his. He squints for a moment, thinking before piping up, slow and careful. 

“Hot”

“Soft or crunchy?”

His next reply comes a little quicker.

“Soft, I think”

“Spicy? Sweet?”

Darren wrinkles his nose, not unlike a bunny, and Ghost can’t help the amused smile tugging at his scarred lips. 

“Think I just want somethin’...kinda gentle?” he peeks up at Ghost, as if to ask permission. His sweet man. He looks a little more clear now, he’s stopped bouncing, hands now shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie as he looks toward him with a hopeful little glimmer. 

“Should be easy then.” Ghost nods, standing easily, mindful of the chair scraping against the tile floor. He takes the leftovers from Darren and pops them back in the fridge as he begins to dig around for other ingredients. 

Darren twists, following him across the room with curious eyes. Ghost digs out all he needs, a pack of noodles, butter, some of the cheap parmesan that Darren insisted they keep. Salt, pepper. 

“Whatcha makin?”

“Those noodles you like, should do well enough, yeah?

Ghost has barely gotten the water on the stovetop before a set of burly arms wrap around him, soft and slow as Darren molds himself to his back, face pressed between his shoulder blades. He’s content to let him stay there, clinging to him like a koala as Ghost takes half-steps back and forth to finish up their dinner. He makes them each a plate before guiding them both back to the table. 

The simple buttery noodles were just the ticket too. The tension from his shoulders easing as he digs in finally, scarfing down the food with an iron focus. The man must have been starving all day, the chips steadily stacking against him with each added stressor. He even goes for seconds, pushing his hood away from his face and returning to his seat with a happy little sway. A bouncy ritual that tells Simon he’s pleased. 

He grins up at Simon once they’ve both cleaned their dishes, sweet and sheepish. 

“There you are. “ Ghost murmurs with a smile, “C’mere love.” he gingerly guides Darren toward his front, tucking the bulky man close against his chest and hugging him tight. “You’ve been hidin’ from me today.” he chastises softly, pressing a soft kiss against his hairline as they sway gently in place. 

“Been real tired.” Darren whispers, letting some of the defeat bleed through. “M’sorry.”

“Let’s get you to bed then.” 

It’s short walk back to Simon’s room, Darren’s warm hand tucked in his as they go. He leaves the tired man perched on the edge of his bed as he prepares the room. Turns out the lights besides the soft glow from the night stand, sets up the small desk fan, digs out the extra pillows and tosses one at Darren’s head playfully. Earning him light giggle as he keeps the prize to himself and flops backwards, shimmying himself up nicely in Ghost’s bed. 

“Negative, take that off, you're going to be roasting us both in that.”

Darren huffs, shucking off the soft hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing a soft broad chest and even softer stomach, delicate inky lines run over his breast and shoulder and along his arm, soft flowers that contrast the hard lines on Ghost’s own arm. He folds them both up neatly, before shimmying under the blankets in just his sweatpants, tugging the covers up over his chin, and waiting for Ghost with sleepy sweet eyes. 

Ghost knows damn well the sweatpants will also get kicked off in the night, and he will wake up with a big southern octopus clinging to him in just his briefs. (If he’s lucky those might come off too.) He crawls over him in the bed, pausing briefly to straddle his hips and catch his lips in a soft slow kiss. Darren hums happily, hips wiggling under the blankets as he wraps his arms around his neck. 

“Careful now.” Ghost warns, nipping at his jaw playfully before flopping down beside him with the grace of a lazy cat. With some fussing he manages to get under the covers, tucking himself against the wall and dragging Darren across the bed. Simon tucks him against his chest, curling an arm around his waist and letting his fingers trail idly over the coarse hair of his belly. 

“Thanks for taking care of me Simon.”

Simon only hums, pressing another soft kiss to the back of his neck before squeezing him closer. Finally, with full bellies and the soft whir of the fan, they both fall into a peaceful sleep, curled into the warmth of one another.

[wallterwall]

-Yum Zlurplie

You know what? Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your failure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having to witness such incredible horrors if they failed would have to many mental and physical drawbacks that not even the bravest soul in history would be willing to risk it. I cannot imagine the pure dread your mother must have felt when she had to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a wretched monster as you.

Not a single word of the incoherent, illogical rambling you may be wanting to do to defend yourself or apologize would ever be able to make up for what you just did. The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws preventing such a terrible event like this from ever happening again, but sadly this is not possible since your horrific actions just now have shattered every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws irrelevant. Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you I knew you were an absolute abomination of everything that is wrong with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to prevent your evil from being released upon this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, but it is clear to me now that not even the greatest efforts would have been able to prevent a terrible event in this scale from occurring. You are the worst human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Events like the infected plague apparently only happened with the goal of teaching humanity to survive such a horrible event as the one you just created, but not even mankind’s greatest trials were able to even slightly prepare anyone for the insufferable evil you have just created. If you ever had them, your children would be preemptively killed to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as bad as you are, except you will never be able to have children, because not a single human being will ever want to come within a hundred mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched. You are a colossal disappointment not only to your parents, but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The disgusting mistake that you have just made is so incredibly terrible that everyone who would ever be to hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense anger, fear and anxiety that emotionally and physically they would never truly be the same ever again. The sheer scale of your mistake, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe. I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense failure, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating working as hard and efficiently as possible, yet there is not even a snowballs chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute shitshow you have just released upon the world. You are an irresponsible, idiotic, disgusting, unloved, horrible excuse for a living being who’s soul contains less humanity than every ginger in history combined. The absolute disgust I feel when thinking about anything that has even a slight resemblance to anything that might have to do with you and your unholy actions is so incredibly great that when I am honest about it I think that even I do not posses a consciousness great enough to comprehend my own feelings about it. When people of Columbia fought to break free from Lungmen, countless soldiers fought and lost their lives in favor of a chance at a better future for their children, they did not give their lives to have you fuck the world up beyond repair to the degree that you are doing right now. Honestly, even when technology advances and studies on the subject become more and more accurate, I do not think humanity will ever truly be able to understand what your failure actually means for the universe.

My hate for you and everything you stand for is so much deeper than the depths of Shambala that you could probably take the entire Lungmen population down there and back up around twenty million times before you would have sunk to the end of my hate, and honestly, I do not want to exaggerate, but I think that that insult was low balling it such a massive amount that all mountains in this world combined would not be able to stack up to this imprecise judgement in light of the fact that when being honest, my hate is almost certainly bottomless. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in. But then again, you are so incredibly abominable that you would probably be able to surpass the worst conceivable failure a living being could possibly make. You are so incredibly pathetic that you are honestly not worth any more of my words nor my time. Just remember that I will forever detest you for your failure and everything you stand for, and no matter what happens, I will never ever forgive you.

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 12

it’s sort of impressive to see just how many methods of testing for necromancy BoE have developed

what with being beautiful, tall, and blonde, Crown is very reminiscent of Coronabeth 

ooh Camilla has sunglasses - Gideon’s? that feels like it might come back into play if she needs to cover her eyes e.g., someone thinking they’re talking to Camilla but actually its Palamedes, or vice versa

omfg Crown literally is Coronabeth, i’m a goddamn idiot

jesus christ the machine will blow out Pyrrha’s spine if she moves too suddenly?? between that, the raid, and completely hiding their faces and identities BoE do NOT fuck around 

speaking of all of their face coverings, i also feel like that could be set up for some kind of reveal of a secret identity in the future 

‘Two-Thighs-Machetes’, there are some, ah, interesting names emerging from BoE huh

okay some kind of weird ship covered in bones that’s here to ‘negotiate’ apparently. it's probably not the Emperor himself since the ship is so small but it definitely doesn’t bode well that the Houses are here. i have a feeling that rather than negotiating they might be looking for Nona and co. 

i do find it slightly strange that BoE (Wake, We Suffer) know John’s full name when Harrow/others in the Nine Houses didn’t. though i suppose it’s possible they only know it through interactions with Lyctors (Wake conspiring w/Mercy and Augustine, and We Suffer could have been told by Pyrrha?)

‘until the posthumous contact a year ago’ did Wake-as-a-revenant contact BoE?? or is this talking about Mercy contacting them in ‘As Yet Unsent’? there’s an awful lot of information about BoE’s past being thrown out in bits and pieces in this chapter and i feel like i’m going to have to reread it to fully get whats going on 

���another home is taken away from us’ it really plain sucks to be anyone living outside the Nine Houses huh. and that’s saying something given the Nine Houses are already pretty shit

‘I’m boobs and hair and talk and a hell of a sword hand’ good to see Corona’s getting an identity for herself outside of ‘the hot twin’. also in reading both this and As Yet Unsent it really surprised me that Corona has essentially become a full defector & joined BoE proper. it gives me a very different impression of her character than i think i had while reading GtN

‘The Lyctor experiment’ oh i have very bad feelings about the BoE clearly wanting Nona to be on their side/be a weapon for them

[punkbakerchristine]

if you’re a vegan, I literally do not want to talk to you right now.

“ohhhh, we should’ve turned to plant-based stuff, now we’re all suffering with the egg shortage!” shut the fuck up.

listen, eggs are a vital staple of baking. They’re both a binder and a leavening agent: the proteins in the whites help with the rise, while the fats in yolks work with the whites to be a glue of sorts; angel food cake is as light and airy as it is because it’s risen from the whites. When you make a cake or cookies with 1 or 2 eggs, you end up with a finished result that rose well and manages to keep itself together. When you use one of the substitutes i shared earlier, you have to think around it. Baking soda and vinegar, and also arrowroot powder and water, will give the rise of proteins, but it’s lacking fats and moisture, so you have to use something like yogurt or buttermilk. Applesauce, bananas, avocado, and seeds with water will add a taste—depending on what the baked good is, it could be delicious or make you lose your lunch. It’s not something you can dick around with, either: you have to experiment. You have to be a chemist as well as a baker.

plus, one of the many things that helped me lose a ton of weight was adding scrambled eggs and Denver omelettes to my diet. They’re good proteins and good fats (in the case of the Denver omelette, you get vitamins from the bell pepper and onion embedded), they build your muscles, bone tissue, and also brain tissue, and they stick to your ribs so you don’t eat as much. really, I’m usually good to go until mid-afternoon after I have a couple of eggs with some toast. And from an evolutionary standpoint, we need those good proteins and fats (why do you think we have incisors?) it’s why I think if you go purely vegan, you have got to talk to a dietitian and a nutritionist about it first. And I feel most people who do go vegan—that is, almost everyone now—don’t. The small minority of vegans who do have been so their entire lives, like they just didn’t care for the taste of meat starting from when they began eating solid food. Or they went that way late in life with consultation at the helm and it worked wonders for them, like in the cases of Paul McCartney and Bill Clinton. ***edit: I just thought of this, referring back to animal proteins helping build brain tissue. I can’t be the only one who finds it weird that as veganism has gotten popular, intelligence seems to have fallen off a cliff.

But I’m not going to listen to an entire collective of people who blindly bought into a trend thinking they’re saving the world and doing their bodies good. It’s why I find the whole pro-Palestine movement a bunch of bullshit, other than the people who comprise the movement are antisemites and refuse to admit to it. It’s absolutely blind leading the blind and beckons the whole “if the cool kids jumped off a bridge, would you?”

my whole beef (no pun intended) with the whole vegan trend is not the lifestyle itself, it’s not the pervasiveness, it’s not even the taste—and in fact, I often have to make the disclaimer to say that vegan food is often the most delicious food I’ve had. I always feel healthier immediately after eating a vegan dish. I’m also not saying vegan recipes and substitutions don’t work: a lot of them, like aquafaba meringue and the baking soda-vinegar trick, are miracles of science.

It’s the shitty, snotty holier-than-thou, condescending attitude that way too many of them have, and Jesus Christ, they are seriously coming out of the woodwork right now in the face of the egg shortage. If you have to trick yourself into eating more healthily, that is, you resort to eating “plant-based meats” (which I personally don’t think are healthy, as they’re heavily processed plants shaped into a piece of meat like a steak or a handful of shrimp, just like how tofu did in the 90s), and constantly talk about how great it is (when you look pale, sick, and in some cases, 3D printed—am not going to explain that), you failed at the lifestyle and probably shouldn’t have done that.

I got 6 eggs left in my fridge and I’m protecting them like they’re gold in the basement of Fort Knox until I can find another dozen or 18 eggs. I’ll be making a cake tomorrow with the baking soda-vinegar combination with mayonnaise as that gives moisture and fat (as it’s got egg yolks, milk, and oil in it). Fingers crossed.

I already scoff at how the internet treats baking as is, like it’s an aesthetic or one big joke. If there’s any silver lining with the egg shortage, it’s that I hope it kills this mindset dead and shows just how the vegan movement is limp-wristed, pathetic, and all frosting with no cake underneath. Not everyone can afford plant-based steaks, Becky, or even metabolize it very well. And yeah, Nikki, not so funny now that you can’t get eggs and make your elaborate chocolate-cherry-pistachio-ginger-lemon cake with cherry-raspberry-pistachio Italian buttercream frosting or your elaborate chocolate-peanut butter-pumpkin spice cake and post your heavily edited “journey” where your makeup is perfect and you’re laughing most of the time online now can you?

[coldresolve]

You probably get a million of these but your story is absolutely perfect in every way and holy shit. I did NOT expect that to happen - although i did expect that there will be an attempt, but not carried out successfully, iykwim.

Damn renee. I hope he will be fine 🥺 poor little guy. He needs a good old hug.

And imani comforting conrad was the most delicious scrumptious moment in this chapter for some reason, she is just so pure and wants to help </3 awww i love it.

And like, jesus, i could talk about this for hours and days and weeks but damn it, i cant wait for the next chapter, it will be so interesting to see how emergency services react?

And damn shaun is so professional holy shit idk why i love him too!!!!!! He is so good and so “detached” but he still cares and doesnt want anyone to die. He has his rules and morals but its not like the “youre a bad guy you tortured someone i will let you die” but “youre still a human being worth saving” eventho he most likely knows what renee did… well he definitely knows, he seems like the type who puts the pieces together fairly quick but doesnt like to mention it. Just aware of the picture without interfering. Or idk if i got that wrong, thats just how i saw him, and i love his personality.

Well i love all your characters’ personalities and yeah, please please never stop writing, im absolutely blown away and you (and M.M.) inspired me to get back into writing! So thank you for that. Youre an amazing human being and your story helped me more than you can ever imagine. Sorry for the rant i cant contain my thoughts anymore.

asdfkjh thank u nonny. its wild to me that theres been so many ppl saying ive gotten them back into writing, i think thats genuinely the best compliment i could get. go for it man, theres so much meaning in it

also small ramble time

shaun is kind of an interesting character yea. hes a black market doctor and i didnt want to go the route of 'he's just in it for money'. so i had to give him ethics thatd allow for treating people regardless of the abhorrent things theyve done, and staying neutral to the suffering (and possibly death) that those same people might cause down the line. so yknow, if he wants to save lives that'd otherwise be lost because these people won't go to regular hospitals, he has to stay neutral, because otherwise they wouldnt come to him for the treatment they need. he has weighed the here-and-now suffering of the people he treats and concluded that as a rule it has to be prioritized over possible-future-suffering. and it all results both in shaun being complicit in conrads torture, and doing what he did in the last chapter

idk how explicit im gonna get with it in the coming chapters and its not a huge spoiler, but like. this whole event has definitely made him reconsider his approach, cause suddenly its not so black and white as neutral-professionalism-saves-lives. suddenly his lack of intervention allowed the circumstances that resulted in three deaths. and how often has something like that happened throughout his career where he just never found out about it, yknow?

[angel-lopes2000]

Love is patient, love is kind.

Early night, almost dinnertime. There was the Campbells residence at BlueBird town, on kitchen, there was "Mr.Campbell'', better known as our friend Brick and he was cutting some vegetables to prepare the dinner with Carrie while Benji was watching all this cooking like a real excited child. On radio, the announcer were announcing many oldie love songs, which made the scenario more comfortable and soothing.

"Woof Woof!" Jumped the dog by wishing a piece from the beef. Brick grinned and scolded playfully. "Benji, you bad little boy! Behave now, your Mama will have a special dinner. Don't mess the kitchen." And returned to cut the vegetables. On second floor, Carrie was on tub, having a fresh bath and filled of foam, rubbing her legs with soap.

Humming to the rhythm from touching fingers on skin, Carrie had found a small percentage of blood from your hand. At first, she thought as rub too hard enough to cut the skin and returned to the cleaning until noticed more blood coming from water. This red tone was enough to make her in real panic.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" And she started all her anxiety attack as screams, crying and despair to remove the blood from hands. "BRICKY!!! BRICKY!!!"

Heard from the kitchen, Brick got desperate and ran after bathroom to rescue. However, he forgot the burning soup on pan. Benji tried to bark as warning.

"Wait, Benji! I must need help Carrie now!" And he went upstairs, following to the bathroom. Without thinking before, he open the door quickly, almost banging duo the despair.

"I'm here, I'm here!! What's the problem, Carrie??" When he approached the tub, Carrie was crying and shaking from panic. The crying was so excessive that her mouth couldn't get any word but she showed her bloodiest hands.

"Jesus Christ! Did you cut yourself, baby??" Carrie tried to explain, but she was too scared that was still unable to speak something. This time, Brick had to use the brain and find which happened.

"Getting stressed won't help anything.. Mama said once that when we're on desperate situations, the best thing to do is keep calm and think rational. Yeah, this which I'll do...'' He breathed heavily and sat on bench aside the tub, trying to talk to Carrie slowly.

"Did you cut yourself...?" Your tone was almost as whisper. Carrie waved the head on negative. His hand found to her small one and he held firmly, showing trust and support. After his wife stopped crying and the beatings getting slow as much she kept deep breathing, she finally could be able to ratiocinate and explain, even as simple way...

"I was rubbing my legs with soap when I found blood on my hands...At first, I thought as I rubbed too much enough to hurt my skin... But it wasn't... I passed my hands to see from where it's coming and IT WASN'T JUST A CUT!!" She said on sobbing, starting to cry terrified again.

"Shhh... This okay, love. I'm here, okay..? Let's have some breathing first." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and caressed her cheek as support and gentle affection. And this affection was always effective to calm her nerves, and she needed to calm or their house were coming to suffer another earthquake.

"Bricky's with you. My Carrie is stronger, there's nothing that will win over her..." He kept repeating as cheering to make her more calmer. Carrie open the eyes and feel her body breathing quietly and her eyes stop tearing. Now he had few seconds to understand which actually happened and finally, a light came to your mind. "I guess you had a period, love. The blood that you found isn't a cut or any serious infection, but just something that is normal to women."

Hearing his explanation that she just had a new period from the month, Carrie got embarassed because once again, she made a thunderstorm from such an innocent thing - but we can't blame her, knowing how she dealt to her old househood. But Brick gave a small grin and made another caressing to comfort his loved girl.

"It's everything okay, right..? Now, focus to get yourself clean and I will take you some stuff you need. Alright?" Feeling grateful, she smiled back and nodded in response to his question. Then, Brick left the bathroom but during the way, sniffed as something burned. Realizing it was his soup that he was cooking previously, Brick turned off the stove and sighed in annoyance. So, he decided to order some pizza instead.

"Good! I'll be waiting for 30 minutes. Bye." And he turned off the phone to return the bedroom and take some things for Carrie. When he arrived, Carrie was already out of tub and stopped, waiting to have her new clothes. Brick got a little blushing duo seeing her clotheless body without a towel, but once her husband had seen her that way many times that she didn't feel the need of shame and embarassing, knowing that her young man had always been sweet to her.

"Thank you!" She responded to a kiss of his cheek and closing to wear her clothes and take some pad. After done, Carrie left the bedroom to join the dinner with Brick. But Brick had explaining in frustration that it had problems with the cooking and they didn't have food enough to cook another dinner.

"...And then I decided to take some pizza and ice cream. Tomorrow we will buy more food. Sorry, honey. I really wanted you had a good dinner." Understanding, she thanked her husband once again and smiled, by giving a soft peck kiss to his lips.

"So, aren't you mad, love?"

"Bricky, you're so dedicated and so sweet man that there's no way I could really get mad on you. A dinner doesn't need to be always like those we see on TV. Sometimes, simplicity also means perfection." She held his hand exactly how he did on bathroom "..Especially when we eat in side of one we love." Brick smiled so proud from his girl that the couple shared another passionate kiss, however they needed to stop after reminding the pizza. And exactly as promised, the 30 minutes had passed and the delivery guy arrived at time, they paid it and took their food.

"So, there's some movie in mind, baby?" He asked to her.

"Well, I guess you don't need to find which I do have in mind." She winked. He knew her stare and rolled his eyes playfully. Brick took Cinderella VHS and put it to play the movie. Carrie and Brick sat together on couch and both focused to the animated story. Benji was also watching excited. And this was their night.

The End.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

you’re home 

plum, chapter two

warnings: Joel Miller x reader, MILD SPOILERS for the last of us (both games and the hbo series), heavy angst, slow burn, age gap (20 years), timeline wise this is set in between the first and second game (so when they live in jackson)

word count: 586

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Jolting awake, a pair of hands quickly found your shoulders in a calming manner. 

“Wow, wow, it’s okay, plum, you’re alright, you’re safe,” your frantic eyes came to rest on Tommy’s figure sitting beside the cot you had been placed in. Answering before you even had the chance to ask or unravel any further, he continued, “you’re in Jackson, we brought you back home.”

Sitting on the small bed with a palm rooted on the mattress for support, you trembled, “I’m home?” and the floodgates immediately burst open, letting the relieved tears flow that you’d come to think wouldn’t ever see the light of day. 

“You’re home,” the familiar person holding a worn clipboard at the foot of the cot nodded softly. 

“Doctor Duncan?” the friendly face made you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to bare the overwhelming nature of finally being safe.

“Hi Y/n,” she kneeled down to be more at your height, “it’s good to have you back.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” you sobbed, fighting hard not to let the dizzy feeling in your body win. 

“All this time,” Tommy breathed, “I thought you were dead.”

Looking up into his glossy eyes, you admitted, “I almost was…”

Not being able to resist any longer, he asked, “did the others-, are they-”

“No…” you shook your head lightly and glanced down at the dark fleece blanket draped over your aching body, “they didn’t suffer, it was quick, painless for them…”

You honestly hadn’t thought about any of them in ages, out of the pure need to survive, but now that you finally did, the vile memories had your empty stomach clenching in need to vomit. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked, though was quickly counteracted by doctor Duncan’s soothing voice.

“You don’t have to answer that right now, sweetheart,” and gave you a pained glance.

Of course, Aria had gathered some pieces to the puzzle from just the minor check-up she had undoubtedly done as soon as you had been brought into the infirmary. She didn’t have to look any further than just your still faintly bruised wrists to get an idea of what horror you had clawed your way out of to get back here. 

“I-…um…” you struggled to keep your breathing steady as you let your vision drift and the painful words fall from your lips, “we were ambushed by a group of hunters. They did what they do, killed everyone without even thinking twice about it, except when they found me,” you unconsciously dug your nails into the root of your palm, hard enough for the skin to break, “I was hiding and I could hear,” you closed your eyes, still recollecting the 2-year-old memory clear as day, “every single one of them get shot. One after the other, Trevor, Alice, Benny, Sam, almost rhythmically with how fast it was. But when they found me, they didn’t pull the trigger. Said that my head was too pretty to put a bullet through it. So instead, they just knocked me out. I woke up back at their base, chained in this cell… they-… they-…” as much as you wanted to tell these people you cared so much about every single horrifying thing you had to endure, you just couldn’t. The words physically wouldn’t come out of your mouth. 

Squeezing your eyes tight enough that they hurt, Tommy’s soft voice pulled you back from the black hole of memories you’d found yourself in. “Jesus christ, Y/n…” he uttered, barely breathing at all. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[kemregik]

The Absurdity of Highschool DxD, Explained (by someone who's watched the show more times than can possibly be healthy)

The whole premise of the plot is that God Is Dead and so the world is sorta in No Rules Mode™. The reason the Three Factions come together is because with God being dead, they risk their domain over Earth being challenged by a third party that just attacks Heaven while they're weak.

To this end, as soon as the peace treaty is signed, the governments of Heaven and Hell suddenly become diplomatic entities with the other Pantheons, mainly because of the threat that the Khaos Brigade represents to EVERYONE with their trippple stacked dummy oatmeal thicc supercombo crossover nyan-powered GI Joe-lookin' ass Marine Marauders type spec-ops black-ops god-killing freak power team setup. Azazel and his Grigori are sorta subsumed under the authority of Sirzechs Lucifer (this use of Lucifer is a title, he's of the Gremory Clan), as the Governor-General is serving as personal mentor to the Heir-Apparent of the Throne of Hell. The non-Grigori Fallen Ones are just sort of treated as an errant and perennial nuisance that Azazel has mostly covered. Katerea, Shalba, and the rest of the Old Satan Faction are dead and the remaining Magicians are scattered. The Powers in the Domain of the God of The Bible (yes that's his canon name) are, at the current state of the canon, essentially a unified entity as far as any other Pantheons are concerned.

We know precisely how God died, too: the legendary dragons Ddraig and Albion. Those motherfuckers went so hard in the paint with each other that God himself became collateral damage.

Heaven's solution to this, of course, was to gang up on the dragons when they were too busy looking at each other and break them—and most of their relatives—up into pieces and seal them in the Sacred Gears. They can't kill them, since the dragons are pretty much on par with God as sort of "Primordial Powers," so this is the next best option. The Scared Gear system, itself a glitch in God's initial creation of mankind, was sort of a band-aid fix for Heaven, though. Humans are, themselves, inferior and limited in their ability to harness the full effect of the Sacred Gears, but the dragons inhabiting these Sacred Gears, the 13 Pieces of Longinus, in particular technically do have the power to Kill God:™. The trade for Heaven was:

PRO: Generally, wielders of Longinus pieces will not be able to make use of the full extent of the power, and the worst ones are essentially fated to kill each other because of this primordial Grudge that exists between many of the dragons. The vast majority of them will be relegated to important figures of human history (Jesus is said to have been a Sacred Gear user, note that what killed him was, within the canon of the story, True Longinus, the literal spear used to kill Jesus in the Bible (commentary on whether this confirms or denies Jesus as the Messiah is a conversation for another day)).

BUT

CON: You have to keep a fucking eye on the humans, though, because humans can Ascend (which occurs at the whims of and according to the rules of the Holy System, which is mostly frozen in the organizational state it was in when God died until the Brave Saints system is devised), be Reborn as Devils, or (very rarely) breed with them and the Fallen Ones and produce Overpowered Humans™ that can indeed pose a very real threat.

So for the most part, the Domain was stable for a millennium or three. However, suddenly, just as each of the Three Factions are barely recovered from the MASSIVE losses they all suffered during the War in Heaven, you have the following things happening in extreme concentration (one borough of the small city of Kuoh, Japan):

Vali Lucifer, last remaining member of the Lucifer Clan (and by corollary, the most valid claimant to the Throne of Hell), is discovered to be the wielder of Divine Dividing (Longinus 6) and therefore the current White Dragon Emperor. He teams up with,

Azazel, Governor-General of the Grigori, who is in the process of hoarding Sacred Gears for the purposes of creating an Artificial Longinus and also killing his most unstable lieutenant, Kokabiel, only to be doublecrossed when,

Bikou (descendant of Sun Wukong and current Moneky King), Kuroka (rogue cat-spirit uber-devil and Hell's Public Enemy #1), Arthur Pendragon (wielder of Holy Sword Caliburn, the Sword in the Stone), Fenrir, LeFay Pendragon (little sister of Arthur and high-powered Magician), and Gogmagog (legendary British Giant) are all working with Vali just as,

Rias Gremory, who is rumored to be just as if not more powerful than her big brother Sirzechs Lucifer, is nearly done completing her peerage, made up of:

Issei Hyoudou, an emotionally unstable and extremely difficult to predict teenager, who is found to be the wielder of Boosted Gear (Longinus 5) and the current Red Dragon Emperor

Asia Argento, recent Church heretic and wielder of Sacred Gear Twilight Healing

Kiba Yuuto, sole survivor of the Holy Sword Project and wielder of Sacred Gear Sword Birth

Koneko Toujou, little sister of Kuroka and equally powerful cat-spirit

Akeno Himejima, daughter of Baraqiel (Vice Governor-General of the Grigori)

Gasper Vladi, half-dhampir (daywalker vampire) and wielder of Sacred Gear Forbidden Balor View (unevolved form of Aeon Balor, New Longinus 3 (which makes it Longinus 16)) and,

Xenovia Quarta, wielder of Holy Sword Durandal just as,

Ophis, Dragon God of Infinity, is betrayed by,

The Hero Faction, made up of

Cao Cao, wielder of True Longinus (Longinus 1)

Georg, wielder of Dimension Lost (Longinus 4)

Jeanne, wielder of Sacred Gear Blade Blacksmith

The current Heracles, wielder of Sacred Gear Variant Detonation

The current Connla, wielder of Sacred Gear Night Reflection

The current Perseus, wielder of Sacred Gear Aegis Mineralization, and,

Marsillo, wielder of Sacred Gear Dreamlike Curse

This massive concentration of power during an unstable political period is the source of the primary background conflict of DxD. And it's all wasted on tits. For 4 seasons.

[regretepets-au]

Can you draw Cat'ter mating Dog_Mark?

You know what? Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole.Themagnitudeofyourfailure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having-

Okay I'm /j

but screw you still lol - Cherriezkin