#continue to be insane even after they're freed

[arytha]

😐 tenting my hands and thinking about if lorne could reincarnate, and so can era (after he dies he wont necessarily be recycled he just wouldnt have to worry about memories anymore. like normal people)

era could kill lorne, they could reincarnate and continue to be super fuckign toxic but maybe with less baggage and more in the 'why the fuck cant these two seperate from each other for more than a minute' type of thing. 🤔 in the extras.

[allidoistrytrytryy]

a moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me (cove holden x reader)

ao3 version here

summary: Cove Holden and the black underwear (from Patreon moment 2, if you know you know), except it's his own surprise on a random Friday (smut with feelings)

word count: 3,116 words

tags: smut, porn with feelings, porn without plot, light dom/sub, switching, sexual intimacy, they're in love your honour, author has been feeling insane about cove for years and lately about the black underwear so here we are (female reader implied but i tried to be as non-descriptive as possible, can be a male trans reader too)

You were exhausted, your fingers rubbed at your eyelids and at your forehead, trying to take the headache away.

You had had a large project at your job, long hours, and planning that took too much of your time. You came home late, too late, so late sometimes Cove would already be in bed or asleep on the couch, always waiting for you (even though you had told him to sleep, not to wait up for you if you were too late, but he insisted every time).

You sighed at the thought of your fiancee. You missed him too much, missed being able to have time with him, going out on weekends or lazing around after work to watch a show you would fall asleep through anyway, snuggled in his warmth.

You hadn’t been able to do that in more than two weeks, always working, always in contact with your coworkers to continue the project even deep into the night. You were glad today was the presentation, and then you were taking a few days off, away from everything.

You felt the fear in your gut at the presentation. You were nerves on legs, as you always were when you had to talk in front of an audience. You knew that would never change, the way you spaced out, waiting and waiting, at your desk.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, which took you out of your thoughts and the ball in your stomach. A smile crept up on your face before you even had the time to read what the text said, at the name appearing on your screen.

Cove.

Romeo: You have this, show them what you’re made of. Love you. <3

You smiled hard, your finger rubbing at the heart emoji with the text, at the picture you had set as his picture on your phone. A picture of him asleep on your couch, snuggled under a blanket, his long hair freed from its usual low bun.

You hadn’t been able to resist the urge to take a picture, and your fingers had gone through his hair.

You sent him a heart back, now fired back up. You could do this, go home and kiss your fiancee senselessly until you fell asleep snuggled into his warmth.

And the presentation happened. It went well, and you shared smiles and compliments with your colleagues. Sighs of relief. You could all go home peacefully tonight.

Which you did. You sprinted to your car when the hour came, your colleagues’ laughter following you down the elevator. They all knew you were eager to be home again, to be with the fiancee you talked about too much. (You couldn’t help it. You loved Cove Holden too much, loved him since you were eight. What could you do?)

The drive went quickly and you arrived at your little place a bit further from the city in record time. When you parked in your spot, next to Cove’s car who was already there and home, you realized you had forgotten to send him a text. You bit your lip, hoping he hadn’t waited for it.

Five unread texts with Cove inquiring about the presentation, worried. Shit.

You climbed the stairs of the apartment complex quickly, your keys already in hand. You entered.

”I’m home! Sorry, I completely forgot to answer your texts, I’m so so...” You interrupted yourself by the sight of your living room, your coffee table with a range of plates and food, and even a cake.

Hands sneaked around your waist, a kiss on your hair, a chest against your back. Your fiancee enveloped you, mint, citrus and this particular ocean smell in your nose and you finally relaxed. “Hi sweetheart, how was it?” he asked gently.

You turned around in his arms and, as always, you had to crane your neck to look up into his eyes. You hadn't been fortunate with height while Cove had had too much of it over the years. His arms circled your waist. “Went smoothly, we can finally breathe now,” you answered and got on your tiptoes to kiss him quickly, which he answered with that giddy smile he never lost around you. “Now, what’s all of this, Covie?”

”Well, I knew it would go perfectly since it’s you,” you rolled your eyes at the remark but the smile betrayed you, the blush even more. “and wanted to celebrate it. I got your favorite things from your favorite places and got a cake.”

Cove looked like it wasn’t even an effort, and it wasn’t in your relationship. You both made so much effort, so much again and again for each other that it was just normal. But, it didn't change the fact that you were always touched by every gesture.

You still couldn’t phantom how dear you were to this man sometimes. You still couldn’t understand how your heart never seemed to stop expanding for him, taking in every piece, every detail, every word and action from him.

Your hands dragged his face to you, to kiss him deeply, like you had wanted to since you had finished the project. He sighed against your lips, that content sigh, his lips and tongue entangled with yours. An intimacy you could never get enough of.

”I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips and his eyes misted over, your crybaby, always yours.

”I love you too,” he whispered as if he didn’t want to break the calm of the moment, wanted to stay in this moment suspended in time.

Until you dragged him to the couch to drape yourself over him, eating and barely paying attention to whatever was on the TV as background noise. You talked about the project. He talked about his day and his own job.

When you finished, he pushed you to the bathroom. “Go take a bath, relax, I got the dishes,” Cove reassured and you pouted.

”But, I can help, I didn’t get dinner so it should be me,” you whined in his shoulder and he laughed while pushing in the bathroom while you couldn’t do anything.

”No way. Go, now,” he kissed your cheek and you still pouted as you got into the bathroom.

You did well on what he had told you to do, spending too much time in a hot bath until it got cold, your body wrapped in your comfortable fuzzy robe. You finally stepped out to get to the bedroom, itching to put your pajamas on, and fall asleep next to Cove.

The too-large shirt was in your hands, actually just one of Cove’s shirts you had stolen and never returned, as you did since you were teenagers, even before you were officially truly together. You hadn’t realized why the light was so dim, hadn't realized Cove was on the bed.

You turned your head slowly and you felt your knees wobble, felt your eyes widen until they almost popped out of your skull.

You had seen Cove in all types of clothes and nakedness over the years. You knew him and his body by heart, the moles, the sleeve on his right arm that you loved to kiss all over, the dips, and where the redness would creep. But right now? You were speechless.

Cove fucking Holden was sat against the headboard, half-lidded eyes on you, but you could see the blush high on his face and ears and down his neck. He was naked, well, except for the underwear but it was the underwear that made you want to scream.

It was black but it barely hid anything, the green happy trail visible from that delicious V-shape you liked to bite, down a dangerous low dip. Straps followed his hips and they showed his hipbones. You almost wanted to ask him to get up and show the back, to see how it looked over that ass you loved too much.

”Surprise,” he simply said, wanting to sound sultry but ending up at excited, embarrassed, waiting.

The shirt slipped through your fingers, forgotten on the floor, and you were still speechless. “What...are you...” you swallowed hard, heat at the back of your neck, on your ears.

Large shoulders were shrugged and he tilted his head, “I… we talked about how I wanted to try some...lingerie out and I thought it would be a good idea for a celebration.”

He was still waiting and you could see how waiting affected him, the redness ever more present on his face and down his neck, the quick jostle of his knee. You approached the bed slowly, eyes laser-focused on him.

You could feel a restraint slowly unfurling in your gut, a wait. You had missed Cove and his hands on you, you had missed the everyday intimacy but you had also missed the sexual intimacy you shared. You both couldn’t have enough of each other sometimes, a pull between your hearts and your bodies.

Your hands settled on the edge of the bed, and you crawled slowly to him, putting up a show for his eyes and his eyes only. The robe dipped down and he gulped, his eyes on your cleavage, on your bare chest visible underneath. You smirked, finding a place between his legs, hands on his thighs, so so close to the dangerous piece of underwear that threatened your composure.

”So, you decided to gift my eyes with this, baby?” you whispered, a finger playing with a strap at his hip. “You’re way too good for me.”

Cove gulped again and you wanted to bite at his Adam’s apple, leaving marks on his pale skin until everybody would know. He shook his head.

”What? You don't agree that you’re too good for me?” you asked, a little pout at the words, your eyes on his face. You were playing the game of how sultry you could be, how much you could push it until his own restraints broke. “Maybe I should show you.”

Your hands traced the straps and the edges of the underwear. Your mouth found a nipple as your hands traced but never touched where you could feel a hardness growing and growing. His moans hit your ears and you smiled, your tongue playing from one nipple to another.

”You don't have to...” he tried to say, his moans high, and god, did you love how vocal he could be. He was always so vocal, so good.

”I want to, so be a good boy, baby,” you whispered, bit at the side of his chest, so muscular, so pretty. He moaned higher, hips bucking against your chest. Your mouth traveled down and down, following the green trail of hair. “Driving me crazy with this, Covie.”

Your hands caressed the hardness over the fabric, but your mouth found the tip already out with how hard he was. The dip was so low that the tip was the only thing visible, so your tongue swirled around it, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds. You moaned, fingers at the straps.

”Oh my god," Cove whined loudly, hips bucking again, the tip making its way deeper into your mouth. “Shit, sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to...”

You shook your head and pulled at the straps downward, until the underwear sat underneath his cock and you pushed more and more into your mouth, desperate for more, to make him feel even better.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck," you heard him repeat and you wanted to smile, to tease him like you always did because he only ever cursed in those moments, so gone, so desperate.

More and more, until you felt tears in your eyes, until you breathed through your nose, hands at what you couldn’t fit down your throat because of how big he was. But you loved it, thighs clenching to relieve the ache that formed in between.

It wasn’t about you, even though you could spend hours between his legs, to look at his head thrown back, his eyes closed and face scrunched up, like now. He looked out of this world, long hair around his head, down his shoulders, redness still at his face, sweat down his neck and on his chest. You couldn’t believe he was yours still.

”Shit, sweetheart, I’m gonna… I’m...” Cove’s voice rang out and you felt how tight his balls were getting, see how his abs tightened. He was close, and a part of you wanted him to cum in your mouth, but you had another plan.

You popped off his hardness with a loud pop, saliva around your mouth, and his head rose up, his eyes opened in question. You crawled back up his body, your hands opening your robe, until you could throw it on the floor beside the large bed. You settled on his lap, hands on his shoulders.

You swatted his hands away before they could fall on your hips, and you saw the small pout on his face that you kissed away with a laugh. “Sorry, no touching baby, be good a bit longer for me,” you kissed along his face, nibbled at his neck, leaving a few hickeys as your hips moved, your wetness rubbing on his cock.

Cove whined still against your shoulder, “But you look so good… And you’re so wet,” he moaned, groaned. “Let me touch you, please,” he begged but you shook your head, your hips rising up to catch the tip at the edge of your wetness, of your warmth.

You slowly sunk down, your own moan unable to stay in your throat at the delicious burn his cock always gave you, that fullness that always took your breath away. You hummed as you sank lower and lower.

His eyes were closed tightly, his body trembled when you finished back on his lap, the length fully inside you. You stayed still, enjoying the moment, and his hands stayed beside his hips, beside the underwear that was still underneath his cock, trapping his legs in place. He was taut, all muscles tight and restrained.

”Please, please, move," Cove begged and you could only answer with your hips moving up and slamming back down.

Your moans intertwined with Cove’s, as you rode him, slowly, building a faster rhythm with every breath, every moan. You rode him, a deep pleasure building in your stomach, pleasure built with his moans in your ear, your teeth at his shoulder.

You rode him until your thighs trembled and his hips, so restrained until now, slammed up in response. You almost screamed his name. It had hit that one spot deep inside and your body had fallen down onto his chest.

All restraint broke in his body, his hands at your hips, so tight you knew you would feel them still tomorrow, “Sorry, I can’t...” he breathed out, before his hips slammed up again and again, his hands guiding your hips down every time.

“Fuck, Cove, Cove,” you repeated his name, your forehead on his shoulder, your eyes on the spot that joined your two bodies together, his cock sliding in and out.

His name on your lips broke him again and you lost all control you had on the situation. His hands manhandled you on your back, almost ripped the underwear that had started it all off his legs, and he had your legs folded against his chest before he slid back in.

The breath was knocked out of your chest, your hands tugged at his hair, and your eyes were on him always. The muscles bulging with every movement, the sweat trickling down, the pure ferocity and desperation on his face.

Cove wasn't always pushed to this side of dominance, if not ever. Not to this degree. You both liked to switch, to play with what were the limits and new things, but falling back into lovemaking most of the time. Here, your gentle sweet Cove was gone, to leave a rougher Cove you loved too, your moans encouraging him.

”Don’t stop, Cove, don’t stop," you begged, hands desperate in his hair, hips moving to answer every thrust deep inside, against the spot. You could barely talk and he could only groan and moan, his own mouth busy on your nipples, back arched.

You were getting closer and closer, and he could feel it, the way you arched more and more, the way you were tighter and tighter around him, the way your moans only got louder. His eyes were on your face, a hand moving down from your hip to the nub of nerves, so wet from everything.

Your head tilted back into the pillow, “Cove, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, warned and he hummed in response, his thumb insistent on your clit, in time with every thrust. Your back arched even more, the pleasure exploding in your stomach, behind your eyes, and in your whole body until you were left a trembling thing underneath Cove.

His thrusts slowed down, but your hips moved and you shook your head. “No, don't stop, need you to cum,” you croaked out, voice spent, hands still tugging at his hair.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Cove moaned over you, eyes half-lidded on your face, but you shook your head again. You tugged him closer, forehead against his.

”You can’t hurt me. Please Cove, I love you, please,” you begged, his thrusts were erratic and you could tell he was close.

”I love you, fuck, I love you so much, I love you," he repeated against your cheek, and you hummed, answered back, until he moaned louder.

Until the final thrust, until he came deep inside you with your name on his lips and you kissed his face.

Cove detangled himself from you only to bring back a wet washcloth, to wipe you and himself. You only got up to go the toilets, fast and impatient, to find him back in bed, under the covers.

You cuddled in his arms, your cheek on his shoulder, legs entangled to look at him. Content, beautiful. It was magical, as always, to go to sleep with him every night, to have him be the last thing you always saw at night.

”Well, that was a nice surprise," you giggled and he smiled lazily. “I’ll be the one to surprise you next time.”

He groaned lightly but laughed, forehead hitting yours gently. “If you want me to really die, sure,” and you could only laugh, his lips on your eyelids, yours reaching up to kiss his eyebrows. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You hummed, “I love you, Covie.”

His smile grew larger, and his cheeks turned red as always, “I love you too.”

And you fell asleep, safe, happy, home, where you belonged.

[not-bcring]

✧   「   @the-ultimate-muses   」   ✧  - Continued from ★  

「 ☆ 」 Kokichi had been tireless in his quest for his boyfriends... Or whatever mangled husks remained of them. As much as he secretly insists otherwise, it's difficult to believe that behind such cold eyes— eerily similar to what Kokichi had fixated upon him when he and his brother were scraping by survival within the ❛ safety ❜ of their chosen group —lie the men he loves. Whether they're truly gone or not, it feels unnatural to think of that emotion in the past-tense. No matter what befalls them ( or himself ) Kokichi can't stop loving them... Even if he wanted to.

Truthfully, before the world was cast into chaos, part of him always wanted to. A desire that has ironically waned the further he slipped into insanity. Desperate to be freed from the entanglement of emotion and return to a simpler existence. One where the only life he was truly in danger of ruining was his own. Now? Call it whatever one may: love... obsession... purpose... Distraction.

Existence itself.

It ALL revolves around Kazuichi and Gundham. Having lost or at times purposely shed the trappings that used to make up the facade he displayed, all that remains is the raw essence of Kokichi's nature. A disgustingly wretched being willing to leave behind gifts of carnage so long as it benefitted him in the end. Equal parts ringmaster AND jester, Kokichi had surrendered to his baser instincts ( kicking and screaming as he was forced into the deepest pits where death couldn't claim him ) and was punished rewarded by finding the two he sought. It's then that the Supreme Leader metamorphosized back into their protector clown.

A familiar role. Adding another target for aggressions rather than solely one another. Another set of hands to tend to tasks that may otherwise go unheeded. Another pair of eyes to ensure outside dangers never wander too close to their sanctuary territory. Blood hadn't stopped staining his hands after rejoining those who he knows are more than capable of defending themselves. It merely became less performative. For his boyfriends, anyway. Kaz and Gunnie have no need to see the cathartic carcasses decorating the landscape whenever Kokichi is sent or slips away on ❛ errands ❜ . What served as bait to draw two in now a warning to keep others OUT... as well as a means of expression, puppets to position as he wishes.

... It's not fair.

He didn't come all this way— sacrifice SO MUCH —to be literally shoved aside.

Stumbling back at the rough contact, arms flail as the jester tries and fails to regain his balance. What would have been easy for him what feels like a lifetime ago, now dismally difficult on already-shaky legs. It's been woefully long since he's last eaten, Kokichi barely taking enough to survive in the fear his boyfriends require their scarce supplies more. They are bigger than him, after all. With muscle mass to maintain and manual labor often taking up energy... Besides, Kokichi used to be accustomed to eating very little. Before he became weak and well-fed thanks to his partners.

What little stomach he had begun to show is long gone thanks to being thrust back into familiar circumstances. Kokichi even leaner than he was when trying to provide for him and his twin as mere children upon the streets. There's far less to steal... and even more mouths to feed. Paired with the exhaustion weighing upon his small form, dark circles under eyes reddened from crying, and he stood no chance of saving himself. Tumbling backward as he trips over Gundham's limp body, he hits the ground with an audible thud. Breathing heavily and slumped over the unconscious breeder, wide eyes raise to fixate upon his retreating boyfriend.

Mismatched hues appear slightly dazed... still fogged by panic as trembling limbs force himself upright. Paying no mind to how he roughly pushes away from Gundham, the little leader jester scrambles to follow. Sprinting at the dismissive mechanic, words no longer come from a throat screamed painfully raw. Instead, he crashes into Kazuichi, face buried against a back and arms wrapped TIGHT around the other man. Clinging to Kaz as though already braced to be forced away, he gasps and fights for breath through the still-crashing waves of a panic attack that leaves him near dizzy. Buzzing beneath his skin makes him tempted to claw at himself as though he could offer it release should he dig in DEEP enough... but he focuses that frustration into latching onto his ❛ boyfriend ❜ .

Uncertain what he's even DOING anymore, all lucidity has been diverted onto Kazuichi ( and getting his acknowledgement ) ... Otherwise, Kokichi honestly isn't sure what else he would do. Or what he WILL do if Kaz continues to deny him. 「 ☆ 」

[themurderofcrowscollective]

The one thing the Death Bureau won't tell you about are the souls who refuse to believe they're dead. Or the souls who try to fight you when their bodies die. Or the souls who run away from you. Or the fucking demons who try to kill you because your blood is apparently worth a LOT of gold on the black market, and when you have to deal with them, you can feel your blood boiling. Since that day, your nights have gotten worse and so have the next 3 weeks. Each night when you go out for your night shift, you've fought off 18 different demons in total who were either after you or after a soul you were meant to guide to the afterlife, leaving you exhausted and halfway-insane as you wake up each morning and start drinking enough coffee that could kill an elephant. The days get worse with the paperwork, you've started training recruits and although you're a friendly guy, you like to make them suffer through exercises and luckily you get paired with Soap or Gaz to train them. It's nice and all, but then there are the missions. Some missions go fairly well and you don't lose too much sleep over it, but there's been 3 major missions that are leaving you angry, shaking and close to snapping. Once you come back from another mission where you had to keep Soap from getting himself killed, you flop onto the floor with a loud thud and just lay there with Midnight sitting next to your head in cat form. " You alright? " " No. I'm losing my mind with these guys. " " Was it Soap again? " " Yes. Specifically Soap. " You get up and start pacing around, not even bothering getting out of your gear that you've had to clean blood off of MULTIPLE times, Midnight hopping onto your bed and watching you as you begin your ranting. " First it was him and Gaz going into the building without me and Roach, three weeks ago. And THEN, three days later, I have to go on the mission that Ghost couldn't do cause he was kidnapped and what do I get? Well I get the mission done but uh oh! I got a new fucking scar that needed to heal but I have been cursed by God for my hubris and I will never sleep! I can't even sleep anymore, Midnight, you understand what happens when I don't get my sleep?? I GET LIKE THIS! " You then start taking off your gear, it's too uncomfortable for you now. " And then the night jobs, oh the fucking night jobs... Don't get me wrong, some of the souls are lovely to be around and send them on their way but two weeks ago, I had to stop a madman running naked down the street in fucking DETROIT after I freed him from his body. I can't get the image out of my head. " You continue on as you get changed into something comfortable, pacing as you still talk. " And the demons, 18 different fucking demons on different nights. I have half a mind to go straight to my boss and say I fucking quit, y'know. But no, I love my job and freedoms, I just... need a good long vacation with no one bothering me about work. " You still fucking pace. " The guys I work with though, the 141? I have to say it out loud before it kills me, but I... *might* care for these idiots. Emotionally. The other fucking day when I was in the infirmary after getting one too many bullet wounds, Price walked in and was relieved to see I wasn't dead and fucking called me son. You've been with me all my life, you know very well I have incredible daddy issues so I'm still trying to figure out how to process that and the fact that I HAVE EMOTIONS. It's incredible too, and I might die again if Soap fucking grins at me or if Gaz swings his arm around my shoulder, Konig if he calls me friend, Horangi if he draws pictures with me, Nikolai if he also calls me son or kid and ruffles my hair. Do not get me started on Alejandro and Rodolfo, they're INCREDIBLE to talk to about so many things. " You groan a bit louder before you take a deep breath and exhale it shakily. " Roach is the sweetest, mind you. At least he doesn't go off into the fray of bullets, gunshots and explosives. Soap is such a fucking idiot, I can see why Ghost would love the man to death. "

" Shall I have this dance? "

Ghost has danced with Death countless times and only watched Death take his friends and loved ones with no ability of doing anything to stop it even more. He likes to imagine he's Death itself, until the day Death arrived atop a black horse in his dream... or should I say vision?

- - -

You are Death, not in a 'I'm-so-war-torn-and-edgy' way but in a more legit way. You were once a man named Garret, you had been slaughtered in captivity of the enemy and then woke up to find yourself being interviewed by the former Grim Reaper who instantly hired you on the spot as the new Grim Reaper.

Your horse is apparently your old cat named Midnight reincarnated so when you found him, you two were happy to see each other and an old bond between you both came back from the dead.

Some perks of being the Grim Reaper is wielding the scythe, yes you'll admit you're still a dork, and getting to travel the world freely. Since you're as dead as a doorknob, you also get to see the spirit world so you're a frequent visitor to Japan for the festivals held by the Mononokes and Yokais.

- - -

Every Day of The Dead, you visit old friends who've long died and still use your skills of speaking Spanish so they don't get rusty. It's great partying with them, and speaking of languages, you've mastered every language before you were signed up for field duty.

One night after being a sweetheart to a lonely dying man, letting him cross over to the afterlife, you hear your phone go ding so you take it out and see you've been given a new assignment. What strikes you as odd is that this isn't your usual task of finding a certain person across the world to help them move on but... to find a group of people who need to stay alive.

You accept it anyway, whistling for Midnight who comes galloping with a whinny. " New task Midnight, I gotta keep a group of individuals alive this time. A little strange but I'm always one for something new. " The pair of you start heading off with a portal opening up quickly in front, which you both enter through.

Upon entering through, you're back in your personal room with a letter on your bed. Midnight morphs into a black cat and sits on your bed, meowing while softly papping the letter. " Oh, thanks Midnight. " You pick it up and start reading it.

" 'Dear Mr. Reaper, upon accepting this task you hereby are required to wear a human disguise and it is important you do so as to not startle anyone. You are still free to go about your other tasks but you cannot forget that your group of particular individuals are of great importance.' Wow they still always seem so posh in these letters. Anyways... 'Upon further notice, your records from your previous life will not be used but you will go under a new alias with a secret life. It is up to you to remain anonymous, and once your task is fulfilled, you will be free from this task and go onto other tasks.' " You notice there's another slip of paper so you swap it with the other letter. " 'Your task will last until the designated timestamps of each individual.' " Below is a list of names and the ages they die. John Price - Current age: 48 - Death age: 90 " Goddamn. " Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick - Current age: 28 - Death age: 86 John 'Soap' MacTavish - Current age: 28 - Death age: 84 Simon 'Ghost' Riley - Current age: 29 - Death age: 85 For a moment you think the last two names are going to die together until you find a little sidenote. 'Simon Riley and John MacTavish are to die at the same time. They are bound by the chains of Fate and their love is written in the stars.' Huh. You've heard of those kinds of deaths, where love continues to live on even in death. You know a few guys like that too, but you've never experienced it in person. There are other names too. 'Konig' - Current age: 32 - Death age: 80 Kim 'Horangi' Hong-jin - Current age: 31 - Death age: 79 Another pair bound by chains. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson - Current age: 27 - Death age: 75 Nikolai 'Nik' Belinski - Current age: 49 - Death age: 90 Alejandro Vargas - Current age: 42 - Death age: 83 Rodolfo Parra - Current age: 41 - Death age: 82 And that makes a fourth pair. You catalogue the four pairs bounded by fate and take a deep breath, folding away the letter and putting it in your pocket. Midnight meows at you softly. " I know, this'll be one of the longest tasks I've done. But at least it's not eternity. " - - - (Pairs bounded by fate are John x Nikolai, Ghost x Soap, Konig x Horangi and Alejandro x Rodolfo. Yeh.)

[mageofseven]

Part 3! This is the last part, containing Beel and Belphie's sections below the cut. Please enjoy~

Part 1 | Part 2

~

Beelzebub:

Things were peaceful with the pregnancy for a while.

Even in the beginning, when MC was barely showing and faced very little issues, the sixth brother was waiting on her hand and foot

And he almost always had a smile on his face. He was just insanely happy about becoming a dad, about having a baby with MC.

He handled every thing more or less with stride.

When she started showing and the woman felt self-conscious about the fact that she was losing her figure, he'd hold her close and kiss her, telling how beautiful she was, that the belly she was growing made her no less so. In fact, it made her even more beautiful because to him, what her body was doing was a beautiful thing: growing and carrying his child, something that meant the world to him.

Yeah, he was a bit anxious about how things would go since Lucifer told them the pregnancy could become dangerous for her, but he was still truly happy for the two of them to become parents.

Unlike his siblings in the other timelines, Beel had no fears about how he'll be as a dad; he knew he had so much love to give their son or daughter and was ready to give it.

It wasn't until MC's fourth month when some concerns were raised.

MC's belly had grew at an unusual rate. Despite just entering her fourth month, her belly was roughly the size of what it should be in her sixth or even seventh month of pregnancy, according to Satan.

Beel didn't really know anything specific about pregnancy so he didn't see it as anything to worry about. I mean, he was the Avatar of Gluttony and this was his baby. MC developed quite the appetite because of this and was eating at least twice more than she used to. Surely that's all this was? And if so, the man couldn't see it as anything dangerous, at least.

Still, MC's anxiety grew over it, causing him talk over it more with the blonde to figure out if there was anything he could do for her.

And so the time came; the rune! Satan drew the rune over the human's belly to collect the data they needed.

After a minute or two of absorbing the data, the blonde raised an eyebrow.

"What is it?" MC asked.

"It... well, I suppose for a start, Beel is correct that his sin is part of the reason for the growth spurt." Satan began. "But only partly."

Beel leaned towards his brother, listening closely.

"However, there are some more difficult elements at play here." The fourth brother continued. "The most pressing being... the number."

"I... what?" The woman stared at the demon in front of her.

"It seems you two are having twins. Two girls, in fact."

Beel immediately pulled MC in for a hug. The woman cried heavy tears, but they were paired with a smile. The big guy teared up as well.

"Twins. Beely, we're having two little girls." She said from inside his arms.

"I know." The man pulled back and gave her a sweet kiss before laying both hands on her belly. "Our little girls--"

"I hate to interrupt," The Avatar of Wrath said, but of course, did so anyway. "But... do either of you realize the danger this poses to any degree?"

Beel turned back to his brother, furrowing his brow.

Satan sighed.

"Beel... one baby was going to be rough on her body, but two?" He pointed out. "Honestly Beel, she'll likely be eating at least as much as you, if not more, and that still might not be enough for her body. It's manageable now, but once she enters the last trimester, it'll be very difficult to keep two gluttony demon children fed as well as the mother they're siphoning nutrition off of faster than she can get it."

Basically, MC was going to be eating an extreme amount of food and still literally be starving. That's how Beel understood it at least.

The man looked at his girlfriend and frowned in worry. He hated feeling hungry and didn't wish that on his Muffin, but knew she'll end up feeling even worse than that.

"Is there anything I can do for her now?" The redhead asked.

"Right now... all we can do is stock up and hope for the best." The blonde answered. "Lucifer should probably be informed so things can be planned out."

And so he did. He walked his girlfriend to their bedroom so she could lie down for a bit while he went to Lucifer's study to inform him. The older brother was instantly stressed out, but let out a sigh and told him that he'll handle it.

Lucifer did warn Beel though that he probably won't be able to eat as much as he's used to because of this. The Avatar of Gluttony only nodded. If he had to go hungry to keep MC fed and alive then so be it. It was worth it to him.

As the months went by, Satan's predictions were proven true. By half way through her seventh month, MC was bedridden. Her belly had grown so big that she literally could not get out of bed on her own.

The woman was never alone though. She constantly had either Beel or Belphie or both with her to bring her food or carry her to the bathroom or cuddle her so she didn't get lonely.

What was equally as worrisome as her gravid boulder of a belly was the rest of her. The woman had lost so much weight in her thighs, arms, and face that she looked like she's been starved for years.

Each touch of Beel's was extra gentle because his girlfriend looked so fragile like this. He was afraid to hurt her even more, especially because of their girls' kicks.

The twins had inherited their daddy's strength. Occasionally, one or both of them would kick their mama a bit too hard, causing a bruise to form on her belly.

This led to lots of belly time. Beel would kiss and rub his Muffin's belly while talking to his girls, telling them how loved they are, but how they need to be more gentle with their mama.

Despite how difficult the situation was, both Beel and MC kept positive, smiling through it. After all, this was all for their little girls so of course it was worth it.

Good End:

Oh this poor woman. It took ten months of pregnancy, being a full month over due, but her twins were finally ready to come out into the world and meet their parents.

It was a long twelve hours for the couple; after all, these were two very big, overdue demon babies of gluttony being pushed out by a mom they've seriously weakened for months now. Yet despite the odds, both Mama and babies made it out okay.

Beel kissed his girlfriend's head and watched as she fed their girls. Their girls. This was really happening. Beel was a daddy. His sweet Muffin was a mama and those sweet girls feeding from her chest were their daughters, sporting his hair, eye color, horns, even delicate versions of his wings, but still had all of their mother's facial features. They were identical, unlike him and Belphie, but the demon truly hoped the two could forge just as strong of a bond together as he had with his twin.

When the two were done drinking, Beel took the one from MC's left arm and brought her into his own. Just then, a knock came to the door and it clicked open to reveal Belphie, who Beel texted a few minutes ago; he wanted his twin to be the very first one to see his daughters.

The couple smiled at him.

"Belphie, come see them." MC invited him to come closer.

The seventh brother approached the bed and gave a small smile.

"So... whose who?"

MC looked up to Beel, letting her boyfriend introduce them. The man smiled.

"This is Arsenia." The redhead stared down at the little girl in his arms, kissing her head before looking to the one in MC's arms. "And right there is Anais."

The three talked for a bit and watched the babies before MC needed to sleep. Beel laid the twins in their cribs before giving his Muffin a quick kiss on her head.

"Sweet dreams, Muffin. Thank you for everything." He smiled.

Bad End:

Twelve hours. Twelve hours of labor that seemed like it was going no where. The first baby was barely even crowning after all this time and MC was losing what remained of her strength. The woman honestly didn't know how much more she could take.

Beel felt so helpless as he watched her struggle. He was so hyperfocused on his Muffin that he hadn't even thought of food once during these twelve hours and even a non gluttony demon would be getting hungry right then.

It took another hour, but MC eventually got the head out and then the shoulders. But that was it. That was as far as she made it. She had lost the last of her strength and just... faded away at that moment. Beel couldn't accept it at first and just kept calling her name and shaking her shoulder, begging her to wake up. But she didn't. The man let out a howl of pain before collapsing on his knees in sobs. He cried for a minute before remembering his girls.

Beel quickly shot up and freed the first baby, Arsenia, from her mother's body. Anais... Anais, he never got to save. They never knew it, but the cord had been wrapped around her neck for most of the labor and she left them before even MC did.

And just like that, the Avatar of Gluttony lost his Muffin and one of his daughters. As he held tightly to Arsenia though, he vowed that he would never, ever let any harm come to her.

Beel was a loving, but fiercely protective father. His daughter handled it in stride for the first twelve years of her life, but after that, grew to really resent him. He never let her truly live her life. By fifteen, she actually ran away to the Human realm in search of what was left of her mother's side of the family, leaving a note saying that she couldn't handle him suffocating her anymore. Arsenia had succeeded in finding her grandma and Lucifer convinced Beel to just let her be for a few days. Then he came to get her and the two had a heart to heart talk.

The man didn't know how he could grow to let go more; all he knew was his fear. This was his daughter. His worse nightmare was losing her just like he did with MC and Anais. But he knew if he didn't learn then he was just going to lose her in another way. The man just didn't know what to do anymore. Not without MC, who kept him grounded. Not without MC, who he sees everytime he looks at his daughter's face. And so he was stuck feeling desperate and lost and just wanting his daughter to understand him and be happy.

Belphegor:

After the two's three month fight, Belphie was dedicated to taking care of MC.

He was an ass to her when he found out of she was pregnant and he knew it, never even denied it, but it came from a place of fear and love for his human.

Seeing just how important this baby was to her though... it was enough for him to bury his fear deep inside of himself for her. He had to; she needed him and he was not going to abandon her again.

Her second trimester was... well, let's just say he stepped in to support her at just the right time.

MC was always so exhausted and went through her days in almost a daze.

She even passed out at the dinner table one evening, face falling straight onto her plate.

Normally, the Avatar of Sloth would find this funny, but the pregnancy had him on edge.

She woke up fairly easily though. Just a couple shakes of her shoulder and the woman was lifting her head, wondering why there was mashed potatoes in her hair.

That was enough for him though. Belphie picked his girlfriend up and carried her to his room. He cleaned the food out of her hair before laying her back on the bed.

"I'm sorry..." She mumbled.

"Don't apologize, Butthead." He said softly, pulling her to his chest.

He knew she couldn't help it. In general, pregnancy could be tiring, but when the baby daddy is the literal Avatar of Sloth? Yeah, that made things harder.

The human fell asleep, barely staying conscious long enough to hear his response.

Belphie leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Even after such an early bed time, MC didn't wake up in the morning. Or the afternoon. Belphie was tense as hell, but tried to be patient.

Around 3pm, after sleeping for about twenty hours straight, the man tried shaking his girlfriend awake. But she wouldn't.

Belphie started freaking out and shaking her harder. She still wouldn't wake up.

He had to triple check that she was alive. And she was; the woman still breathed slow, sleepy breaths and had a calm pulse like any sleeping person would.

But she wasn't waking up? Why?

At some point, the younger brother wasn't sure when, but Beel had gotten up and rushed to Lucifer.

The oldest brother put a hand on his youngest brother's shoulder, stopping him from shaking the human anymore.

Belphie instantly shook the oldest off and gave him a glare.

"Stop, she's not waking up!"

"Shaking her is not going to help the situation."

Belphie was frustrated with the Avatar of Pride, but knew he was right. But what else could he do?

Lucifer did most of the talking with Beel after that. The two went back and forth on different things as Belphie simply held his girlfriend close.

Eventually, the two left the room and came back with Satan, book in hand. Belphie growled as the blonde approached the bed.

Satan sighed.

"Enough with that. I believe I know a way to figure out the problem."

And with that, the fourth brother explained step by step everything he was going to do.

The boyfriend scowled, but let the blonde do what he needed to do.

Satan opened his book and laid it on the bed. He gave a glance at the page before pulling down the blanket and raising up the woman's shirt.

Belphie growled again, but stopped as Beel laid a hand on his arm. The man then took a deep breath and just sat up, watching the blonde's movements carefully as he guarded his girlfriend. Yeah, Satan was his brother, but more importantly, that was his girlfriend the blonde was messing with. Whatever he does, he better be gentle.

The three other men watched as the Avatar of Wrath drew a rune around MC's navel. The woman stirred, making some noises in her sleep, but didn't awake.

When the blonde finished the rune, it glowed a very bright purple. The fourth brother raised an eyebrow at this.

"It's... not supposed to do that." The blonde picked up his book, rereading the passage once more.

"What did you do?" Belphie immediately jumps to the worse scenarios.

Satan waved off his words and continued to read the passage.

"It's suppose to glow green since I am the rune's scripter... however, it shows itself in your color."

The Avatar of Sloth didn't say a word; he didn't understand what was going on. He looked down at his human, whose sleep had turned a bit restless since the other man drew the rune on her.

The fourth brother finally sat down the book and reached out to lay his hand on the rune

...and was immediately shocked.

Satan cursed and pulled his hand towards his chest.

"What happened?" Lucifer asked.

The fourth brother just shook his head and breathed for a minute in order to keep calm.

"It... I seemed to be locked out." The blonde answered in a controlled voice.

"What do you mean, you're locked--"

"It means I don't have control over the rune!" The Avatar of Wrath snapped at the oldest before taking a deep breath. "Belphie, you do it."

"Do what?"

"Just put your hand on the rune; it'll do the rest."

Belphie stared at his brother for a minute before slowly laying his hand on MC's belly, right above the rune.

Suddenly, his eyes glowed as his brain was flooded with information.

Okay, first off, he learned the rune was purple because of the baby. As soon as they sensed the rune intruding on their safe place, the baby locked Satan out... apparently to protect themselves and their mother. Belphie only has access because they seem to trust him.

It also seemed that the baby has inherited their dad's protective instincts. Belphie approves.

That's not the only thing they got from him though.

The reason MC has been out cold for past twenty hours is because they inherited their dad's miasma powers, the ability that he uses with his aura to weaken people and put them to sleep

The very same power he used the night he killed MC.

Belphie wanted to curse, to scream, to aim all his anger at the little being doing this to her

But then he discovered why.

The baby... they sensed their mama's great distress, something MC had been trying so hard to hide from him.

It all went back to the first revelation; the baby was protective of their mother. They weren't just protecting her from outside forces, but from herself too.

Lastly, he learned learned that there was no single baby; there was two

Twins. A boy and a girl.

Belphie pried away his hand so quickly that he almost fell off of the bed. If it wasn't for Beel being right behind him and catching him, he would have.

"What is it?" His twin asked.

Oh dear devil, where should he even start? The seventh brother didn't even know if he wanted to say anything; he just wanted time to let it all sit within him, but he had three pairs of eyes trained on him at the moment.

Belphie glanced down at MC's sleeping face and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. She was essentially being drugged into sleep by his kids. Once again, this was his fault.

Sensing how overwhelmed his twin was, Beel turned to Lucifer and said some things that the younger twin didn't even try to hear before the oldest and the blonde left the room, leaving the twins alone.

Belphie sat with his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms.

Beel came up and hugged his brother.

"It's my fault..." Belphie's voice cracked.

The younger twin told the redhead everything, who listened patiently to all of it.

Beel's arms tightened around his brother.

"You know she wouldn't blame you for it." Beel told him.

"Doesn't change the fact that it's my fault..."

The twins talked together for a little over an hour. After that, Belphie fell asleep next to MC and Beel left to update Lucifer.

The conclusion? Wait. All they could do for now is wait. Satan looked into some human-safe potions that would be strong enough to wake MC if she took too long, but otherwise, waiting is all they could do.

Two days later, MC woke up in severe need of water. Beel ran to go get some for her as Belphie held her close, relief washing over him.

A few bottles of water later, MC asked what happened.

Belphie didn't know what to say. Or rather... how to tell her.

But he did. He admitted everything with a heavy heart and actually apologized to her.

Wide eyed, his girlfriend pulled him in for a hug.

"Hey... none of that." She told him. "I'm fine, I-- it's okay."

The two laid there and cuddled for a while. Belphie laid with his head on her chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath (and being incredibly grateful for each one) as his girlfriend stroked his hair.

"So...twins?" She asked softly. "How...how do you feel about that?"

Belphie let out a sigh. How could she lay there and worry about him despite the situation she was in?

It didn't help that the demon honestly had no clue to how to answer that. How did he feel about any of this now?

He hated all of this in the beginning and he resented this baby for even existing. Since his experience with the rune and getting the chance to understand the babies inside of her... he really didn't know.

They seemed... anxious and overall just wanted to protect their mother. That was no different from Belphie himself.

His twins just... devil, he could feel his heart softening for them as he thinks over everything.

He didn't resent them anymore, but how did he feel about them? About there being two of them?

Honestly, it sounded like a hassle. Even once this whole pregnancy is done with, MC and him will have twice the responsibility; he was exhausted just thinking about it.

Still, he accepted it all.

"Dummy, you shouldn't be worrying about what I think." Belphie shook his head. "...How do you feel about it?"

Silence.

"A bit... scared." She admitted. "I don't want you to get overwhelmed again and... and leave me."

Belphie sat up and stared down at her.

"I'm not leaving you. Ever." He said firmly. "I know I was a dick in the beginning, but I'm staying with you. Period."

MC looked away.

"Y-Yeah, but..."

Devil, he had to keep her stress levels down or their twins are gonna drug her again. The demon leaned in and kissed his girlfriend before laying his head back down on her chest.

"I love you, Butthead." He mumbled. "I'm not leaving you or our kids so stop worrying."

He could feel her body relax underneath him.

Months went by with very little issues. She went through somedays with a really froggy mind and that was concerning on it's own because she was extra clumsy like this, tripping over furniture and starting little fires in the kitchen.

Belphie and Beel were always hovering around her because of this, ready to catch her when she tripped. They also took over her cooking duty and took turns. MC felt bad and said she should be contributing more, but Belphie would always silence her with a kiss and tell her she's contributing enough by carrying his little gremlins.

This made her smile because she knew he was joking. If he was able to joke about them like that then there must be affection for them underneath it all. And she was right.

Her coma-like sleeps were rare but they did happen twice more in her pregnancy. Luckily between Belphie and Beel, they were able to keep her stress down enough to where it usually wasn't an issue.

Good End:

MC had woken him up in the middle of the night. Her contractions started while she was asleep and woke her up when they got too strong for her to sleep through. Belphie woke up to her crying and clinging to him.

From 3am to 9am, a long six hours, MC labored hard till she pushed both twins out. Their son had his dad's dark hair while their daughter had MC's hair. Both had Belphie's purple eyes though. Their daughter had their dad’s horns while their son had their dad’s tail.

MC held their son close to her chest as Belphie held his daughter. He stared down at the little girl, who lightly squirmed in his arms and let out soft cries.

"Belphie..."

He looked over to his girlfriend, just to notice that he himself had been crying as he watched his daughter. The demon looked away, blushing. After a moment, he spoke.

"I know we really didn't talk about this beforehand... but I want to name her Lilith."

His girlfriend gave him a smile.

"Of course."

The two discussed it for a few minutes and decided to name their son Judas.

Bad End:

Things fell apart early in MC's eighth month. The woman suddenly just collapsed where she stood, seconds after whispering Belphie's name and trying to reach out to him. The man caught her before she hit the floor. She had suddenly fallen into one of her comas. But why? He thought his girlfriend was okay, but apparently she had been bottling some feelings up. She would have had to have been or otherwise their children wouldn't be doing this to her.

It was three days later that Belphie woke up in the night to feel that the bed was wet. Very wet. MC's water broke! She was still in her coma though so how did this work?? Even with the contractions, could she birth the twins if he she wasn't awake to push?? Belphie quickly woke up Beel who in turn rushed to Lucifer. The oldest called a doctor, who had Belphie stay outside of the room.

The youngest brother paced back and forth in the hallway, cussing, and overall more awake then he has been all of his demon life.

In the end... MC didn't make it. But the twins did. The twins survived even when his girlfriend didn't and that fact destroyed him.

For the first two years of their life, Belphie had absolutely nothing to do with his kids; Beel raised them for him. It wasn't because of what you might think. Belphie didn't resent his kids or blame them for their mother's death like he thought he would. Belphie was drowning in self-hatred because it was his fault. He believed this with every fiber of his being. He couldn't even look at his children, especially Lilith, who he saw both MC and his sister within her whenever their eyes met.

Eventually, he got his shit together, at least somewhat. He always needed help though so Lilith and Judas were raise by both their father and their Uncle Beel. Belphie was pretty laid back as a father so between him and Beel, the kids had the freedom to do just about anything. However, they grew to be a bit bratty. Good hearted, but bratty. Any time anyone other than he or Beel tried to discipline them or said anything awful to his kids, Belphie was ready to murder a bitch and slowly at that; it was a lot easier to set this man off now as a parent. Luckily, Beel was always able to drag him away and calm him down.

Those around them were always put on edge by the Avatar of Sloth's presence because of this; even the other brothers weren't sure how to interact with him somedays. Still, his kids were safe and between himself and Beel, they never went without anything. They grew up loved and protected... just like MC wanted.

He sometimes got into these depressive moods when he thought of her and couldn't leave his bed. At first, Beel would try to occupy the kids elsewhere so he could have his space and the twins didn't have to see their daddy like that. One day though, when they were five, they snuck away and into the attic room that he hid in. Wordless, the two just climbed into bed with him and he held them close to his chest.

As much as he missed MC... he loved his kids and moments like that reminded him just how important they are to him. There was once a time where he told himself that if he had to choose between MC and their kids, he wouldn't hesitate to choose her; he simply couldn't imagine how he could care about anyone as strongly as he does her. Now that they're here though, he doesn't have to imagine it; it's his reality and though he missed MC with every fiber of his being, he wouldn't trade his children for anything in the three realms.

~

Part 1 | Part 2

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Markiplier’s Birthday Game: Confusion, Confirmation, and Colors

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! Also, if you haven’t read our definitive theory, check it out here!

If you, along with our team, caught the release of Mark playing his birthday game on stream made by Lixian, his friend Fischer, and the other two editors Marcus and Rachel, you would have recognized it as an...eventful time, to say the least.

An intriguing, shpooky, and overall detail-filled game that, if you know our theories, made us both delighted...and ultimately extremely confused at some points. For it seems this game is a continuation in the world of the 3 Scary Games lore - the common theme of doors, the use of rainbow aberration, Shadow Lixian calling towards Lunky - which then led us to ultimately puzzle over what the frick a worm monster was, who we were playing as, and wHY WARFSTACHE IS HERE AND THE BAD GUY?? But don't worry - let's take this step by step. Start from the parts with the most confident confirmations - to some of our theories about less concrete stuff but still plausible given the nature of this lore. Because, all in all, this game did give us two very big confirmations: the existence of connecting dimensions via voids and doors, and the very existence of Lixian and Mark having a shared lore multiverse - at least for these events in the channel.

First, let's start off with the interesting mark in the timeline this game is. This actually takes place BEFORE Lixian comes back, kills Lunky's body, and Lunky presumably possesses him. How can we tell this? Well, this is because of the similar face scratches we see on Lixian from when he gets attacked by Lunky and when he attacks Lunky later - meaning that he got those when he got "killed", and now he has used his Shadow Form to come to the void, regenerate his power, and come back.

Now, in this ending alone, we find two different yet crucial details.

One, since this is when Lixian goes back to get Lunky, he picks up Damien's axe.

We have never seen the axe used since Lunky...which means, YES, the axe Lixian has used to fight off the eldritch monsters HAS BEEN DAMIEN'S AXE. We can even see that the Dark energy is still there on it, seemingly powerful enough to take on such beasts, as the text's aberration shows. First being rainbow, but then coming into this truly intriguing thing: Lixian's purplish-greenish aberration on one side, and Dark's aberration on the other, showing that Lixian is in control and ready to do some chopping.

The other thing is the other parallel between Damien and the Lixian lore - the way Damien comes out of the door portal.

It mirrors (heh pun) the way Damien comes out of the cabin in the after credits of the Damien video, as you can see here.

Interestingly enough though, the comparisions in color and design of the outside are what interested us the most.

This portal door seems to look like the cabin door as well - and as you can see in the Damien shot, when he steps out, the world goes grayscale and is extremely foggy.

Black and white and foggy, you say?

Sounds basically like this void we're seeing here.

These two facts cement these two lores together at least through the events of the Lunky, Lunxian, and Three Scary Games arcs.

We can even conclude that the reason why a character in Mark lore is in grayscale is because they're in some sort of void out of their dimension - the reason why Dark is grayscale but then appears in color in Date once he's brought into the real story dimension, and even why Abe has that extremely foggy and grayscale opening shot in WMW - that he is in this own loop of theorizing and figuring things out with time and reality (or as much of a "reality" as the story dimension could be) through his role in the story. Though we do admit that's a bit of a stretch.

Which makes the concept themes around doors of this game extremely interesting, as this ties in with the idea that we've had of the closet door in 3 Scary Games and Don't Open the Door to be part of a portal for eldritch monsters. The void, at least here, now represents the different openings to different story pockets. UA wasn’t made by Actor but it still WAS technically a story pocket - a different story timeline thing. And DAMIEN’s world - well that of course was created by Celine! I mean it almost seems to imply that voids are kind of the glitched out Velcro between story dimensions...it’s where Dark can reside, staying out of the facade and “hacking” reality, and it’s what Lixian has found which I presume is from his shadow form. And now, as we’ve seen with the purple void, the shadow figure (let’s call them Actor for the sake of simplicity) has learned also how to use his own void (or perhaps someone else’s, like this sort of Eldritch void as we see the monsters spring in and out of it) to his advantage. And now...Warfstache. You may ask yourself "Why the heck is Warfstache here? So he's the bad guy now? Were we totally off track?" Well theorists, aside having those thoughts, albiet in the form of much louder screams, ourselves, we had a theory that, given the events of the lore thus far, plausibly makes sense. Through watching Lixian's reaction to Mark's playthrough, he said an interesting line in response to Mark's confusion as why Warfstache's gun worked even though it didn't before - "It wasn't back there, it is here." That line of thinking seems to allude to the way the clicker game - and the game itself on the other side of the door we were to open - operate under two different rules. Or rather, two different ways that reality works within these two dimensions. You see, we believe that the clicker game - and the ideas planted that Warfstache is the bad guy - is a rule implaced in the story dimension, controlled by Actor. It would make sense, considering his newfound use of abilities outside the story dimension he already took advantage of, as we see with his use of rainbow aberration. And it would make sense why Warfstache is drawn in two different styles in the game. In the clicker game, he's designed like Lixian - not just to signify who drew him out of the game's story, but to also establish that this dimension is being crafted like how Actor has tried and managed to get influence over Lixian. Think about who we play, even. We don't know this person, but they are wearing a red shirt and, in the secret ending with them going out the red door, they are marked as the one who freed the mysterious worm monster. The hero, fighting against the odds of the eeevil man that wronged him. The secret ending is how Actor wanted us to play it in the context of the game idea - to keep Warfstache trapped and seen as, while not a villain diretly, an insane scary man that reflects the atmosphere of the eldritch environment Actor has learned to see and control through these events. While we're still confused about a few things (WHO IS THE WORM MONSTER), one thing we do know for sure. This is certainly not the end of these side lore events. And we can't wait to watch, find out more, and act. If you have any details that we missed, or things you’d like to add, or your reaction, reblog and tell us!

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

The Exchange of Courtesies

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987/22311870

Translator's here 💝👇

'If you think that we have nothing to discuss, you're seriously mistaken.'

 'Words have spreaded as shatters of the former glory of Ñoldor people in the hall, and, alas, no one would be able to to collect all of them now.'

'Are you allowing yourself to say these bold words of yours whilst being so confident in my generosity and forbearance?'

'You depend on me, thus you'll have to forbeare quirks of mine. Sadly, I suppose.'

'You can't even imagine to what extent.'

Two Ñoldor were not looking at each other whilst pointedly looking only at patterns on columns and at the view behind windows. Two voices: one that was faint and husky and another one which was beautifully flowing, — were appearing one by one after each pause.  

'Aren't you afraid to be at one place with me without any guards?' Maedhros snarkily remarked whilst he was approaching the painting of Narnis.

'The necessity of this conversation without witnesses is outweighing my possible irrational fears,' Ñolofinwë was still looking at nothing happening behind the window when he indifferently replied.

'However, everyone knows that I'm here. What's the point in secretiveness?'

'Yes, everyone knows that you're here. Don’t you have a clue what is the reason?'

Maedhros gave no answer while he was still looking at the picture, examining the painting of his daughter and then the elegant frame.

'I want those who are loyal to me to know the person on whom they’ll take revenge after my death,' the king explained.

'It's very presumptuous to proclaim that there’ll be anyone who would like to risk their life for a deadman,' Fëanarion's voice unpleasantly changed.

'For the one who is alive — just a few will make a heroic act either,' High Ñoldoran still was not looking at his nephew, 'yet, heroes exist.'

'Alright,' Maedhros laughed with malice when he looked upon Finwë's portrait, 'I'll keep in mind that I need to secretly kill you and avoid bragging about how I freed the people of Ñoldor from shameful authority of usurper.'

'And what kind of authority do betrayers and brother killers deserve?' Ñolofinwë innocently wondered while deadly staring at one and the same point somewhere near the fountain at the square.

'I would've asked why do you, such a bright shiny ruler, need these disgusting people who possess no honour,' Fëanor was again mocking him, 'who are stained with the blood of innocents and who rejected wondrous Valar. However, the answer is clear for me.'

For the first time, during this painfully long and tense conversation, the king turned to the one with whom he spoke. Ñoldoran's eyes were blazing with hate, though he was smiling.

'You're wrong,' Ñolofinwë said in an unnatural voice. 'Again. And it's nor the first nor the last time. You ain't right if you think that I have so much lust for power, that I am eager to rule over anyone, as long as I could conquer more lands. You might not believe me though you more than anyone else know the value of a manuscript, and I'm willing to make one of those for you. Right now.’

High Ñoldoran seated himself at the table and smarmily straightened paper by pretentiously pressing its edges with copper soldiers to the table; he leisurely put a beautiful quill, that was shining with blue and green, in ink and started to slowly write tenguas along with reading out loud what he has written.  

'So you want to tell me,' Maedhros's lips that were crossed by almost invisible scars stretched his mouth corners in a smile though the upper part of his face remained emotionless, 'that you're not going to claim Morgoth's lands after winning? What an interesting state of affairs.'

'You'll be able to live there and name yourself as you would like,' Ñolofinwë explained calmly.

'Dor-Daedeloth, the Land of Fear and Terror, will obtain a new ruler,' Fëanorian came extremely closely and put his hands, one of which was a real hand and another — a mechanical one, even though they both looked identical in gloves, on the table, 'the Lord who is servant of High Ñoldoran. Are you still trying to convince me that lands of Morgoth won't become yours?'

'Are you so sure that I need the North domain, behind the Iron Mountains?'

'I guess, no. However, by widening borders of your domain on the world map you won't be the second by size of kingdoms in Beleriand anymore.'

High Ñoldoran looked up with a tired glance.

'Aren't you capable of speaking with me nicely?' he asked his nephew. 'Maybe, you could at least try?'

'Try to force me,' Maedhros was still terrifyingly teething, and Ñolofinwë shook his head.

'That is why, Finwë The Third,' Ñoldoran signed, 'I wanted to talk with you in person: were any witnesses present here, I would've had to force you to be polite and respectful with your king. But when we are being heard by no one, the main thing for me is that you learn what is necessary for you but how you will respond to this will stay between us.'

'Or, you are just ashamed to say in front of witnesses that you want to send me and other war heroes along with their families to the uninhabitable lands.'

The glance of the ruler expressed the sincerest confusion.

'It was only a poor joke, Maedhros,' Ñolofinwë explained even calmer than before. 'You were telling me that Morgoth's army will be crushed in the Battle Under the Stars,however, yet after ten years…' Ñoldoran laughed with sadness. 'One day, I will get used to counting years by the calendar of new luminaries but now there’s no time for it. Just imagine, Maedhros, within just ten years these beasts multiplied behind the Iron Hills to that extent that they wiped out Kano's army and flooded the North of Beleriand. You think that something like this can possibly happen on the hollow frozen ground?’

'Morgoth is one of Valar,' Fëanorian reminded this as soon as he noticed that the conversation was getting uncomfortable.

'Manve was saying that Morgoth can't create life by his own will: he requires the use of existing shapes and only then can he change them. Distort them. Turn them evil. He can't create an horde of Orcs and provision for them out of nothing.'

'For this, Morgoth needs help from Mother of Plants and Animals, am I right?' Maedhros asked a question whilst enjoying the effect that he made: Ñolofinwë became really scared and could not pull himself together. 'You don't like the thought of us battling against all of Valar, do you?'

'But you, I see, are entertained by your own exclusive braveness,' Ñoldoran gathered the courage. 'However, if you're right and Morgoth is only the tip of the spear that directed the whole Aynur army at us, then what's the point of the siege? If we’re lacking resources...'

'Valar aren't almighty,' Fëanorian repeated his father's words, 'otherwise, Orcs wouldn't settle down outside of the lands of their precious protector.'

'Or they're as insane and lusty for power as I'm,' Ñolofinwë smiled widely, 'so they're also drawing extensive non-existent borders on maps. But we got distracted. If the siege won't bring us victory through starving them out, what'll be your plan, the future king of the most dreadful lands of Arda?’

'We'll be defending the borders whilst at the same time working on creating weapons that can crush mountains. There'll be no other way to reach Morgoth.'

'We'll be wasting time, and Orcs will again multiply in numbers.'

 Maedhros nodded though in truth he was concerned by another matter: Himring’s Lord imagined how he would be walking through burned down by war, soaked in blood and covered with corpses of his friends and enemies — Land of Fear that would be devastated and dead and uslovno belonging to him. He realised that it was not the future that could have been a goal worth to be earned by fighting.

'Brothers of yours aren't joining the siege?' High Ñoldoran asked the question at the most right time. 'Are they withholding their armies until your victory? What is the reason, in your opinion?'

'Silmarils are three in number but there are seven of us,' the unwanted thought reminded him again about the inaction of his family during the capture.

'I would've advised you to insist on them joining your army,' Ñolofinwë continued to speak whilst looking in the eyes of his nephew. 'And then, on leaving them at the most dangerous frontiers. Though, of course, only wicked usurpers will do this, whereas honest followers of fratricide will never stoop to such plots.'

Maedhros made a sound of annoyance but remained silent and just walked away from the table.

‘Is the exchange of courtesies finished?’ High Ñoldoran asked. ‘Will we be able to discuss our plans and prepare lists of required resources in presence of advisers?’

'Perhaps,' Fëanoring responded while glancing again at the portrait of his daughter, 'Ard-Galen needs me, and the sooner I’ll return it’ll be better.'

Arts by ~Letavia Gayle

[the-firebird69]

Watch "A Bronx Tale - Bikers Scene “Now Youse Can’t Leave” Movie Scene Clip High Quality" on YouTube

And yeah Tommy F you're technically incompetent you merely took their weapons

Zues Hera

. Your low level thieves like we are

Trump

I don't think so we have our own stuff I did steal the matrix I'm using that

Tommy f

Is there a tech but I build my own not use their own and you use this computer and we're getting all f***** up it's cuz you're stupid Tony f and he's right you've committed trees in many many times but really it's a real crime is something you don't understand these people who are his clan they can at power over this realm and I was controlling them and you ruined them without my permission and they are holding a lot of stuff off with this advanced weaponry and we're trying to advance and it was painstakingly difficult and you came and wrecked it disrupted everything and did not regain control that's the crime the crime is you're incompetent, and moreover the crime is real now because I've been telling you it's a crime it's validated and you continue to repeat it over and over just like John remillard you're insane people

Mac daddy

We understand that this is at the heart of the matter and our son mentioned it once before and it's a pain in the neck because he's too blustering f*** start bothering him so I'm going to go after them and it's not Mac Daddy's fault it's that these two are incompetent for real they tried and they failed the lack of skill and intelligence to do things correctly. And they say it's our son who's not smart when he invented all the stuff that they stole and we're going to crucify them for that they keep on saying it cuz they're stupid and mean people and hateful and very very incompetent both of them

Thor Freya

They're put into the mail and if they keep pissing and yelling at us in space we're just going to go around executing them and he says please proceed here worthless people and we're going to do that now what a pile of garbage your demanding stuff Tom McCain that doesn't exist and you're not an adventure engineer you're absurd

Olympus

You need to be put down Tom McCain like a rabbid dog, you're complicated conspiracies are being found out to be untrue as well you just a thief and it was convenient and I do understand that you freed me from people who are more dangerous than you but now you become more dangerous as well as Trump because you're insane and you just keep on threatening like it's a local level extortion game when it is not and the more I had a job with Mac and you encourage them to screw off I want my life back and I had a teeny little life and you won't give me one little teeny and not even a spec same with Trump now you're both going to die you're so very annoying and very promising very stupid you make mistakes all the time they're horrendous ask Willie Bill everyone you should ask Will and Bill what's this guy's doing wrong and Trump they have a simple way of saying it it's very clear and man they just won't stop it's cuz it's what they do

Zues

I've had it with both you too you're huge huge assholes this attack was attained and back wanted to attack and wants to get rid of you but he didn't have to do all this other stuff there's a ton of damage that you two did and it's on your notes and it's found it and is distributed it already to the max you're responsible for 99% of everything that's wrong with what's going on now and they're all going to go out to you in the corners got wind of it and saw some of the notes and they're verifying it in a few days you'll all be dead. It's like speaking to a chimpanzee over and over about something you agree and you go off and you do it again it you're impossible people to talk to you don't understand what they're saying Peter audette yeah just saying don't do that or you're going to be dead and they kill you same with this though did you see how much stuff he lost being a stupid a****** to one person everything and you're sucked down with it and you won't stop doing it it's all going out the door you're the one who failed at that not me you understand you want to blame me I did my job and nailed you good that's how hard life is bud my husband said that last part to Tommy f who murdered the only person who was a witness no two of them and it's not true either witnesses are coming forward as the story is out

Hera my husband helped me write it but I wrote lots of it most of it in the general outline I know what I wanted to say I will say this too you two are going down forever your animals you're just pigs and Tommy f is the one whose Spirit Jesus and Trump is Judas not bg

Zues

[creativegago]

Two Liars (A Short Story)

Deleted wattpad post under the pseudonym: goldiiblox

Date of final revision: December 27, 2017

Language: English

🦋 angela's note: This has no coherent plot. I swear, I will delete these someday. I wonder why I can’t just throw away the works I did in the past. Oh well, an archive is an archive.

Synopsis: No synopsis available.

~SHE~

She had a screaming heart, but they were just unclear whispers. Her eyes sought to be weeping pieces of laughter while she secretly looks for her own peace; her own shelter. She was a gigantic eagle soaring high, but all they saw was her shadow looming over.

What she feels doesn't really matter and so they began to chase her. She had a terrible fate and a misunderstood truth. Her head began to feel weightless as they caught her and claimed her to be theirs.

She thinks she is strong enough, and everything doesn't really matter.

She smiled and passed through tremendous thunders, trying to keep herself safe and intact, even though her deepest and darkest fears, in their strongest attempt, throwing her off track.

Still, she smiled. It was the most unique seal to keep her secret.

That she's trembling horribly inside.

She continued to keep smiling even though her heart is on the edge of the line.

They hauled her close, like she was a lifeless kite. It was their revenge. It was them, striking back. It was them forcefully opening her eyes.

She held a bouquet of sunflowers, proof that no storm could kill her. She was still smiling until she realized that she cannot breathe anymore. Her body lay still and became a soiree of cuts and bruises. And the moonlight's tears submerged on her rotting skin.

The eagle once soared high is about to say goodbye.

And her life doesn't want to. Not yet.

She wants to end this and she hungrily searched for a void that would end her.

Now, she had closed her eyes, feeling the peculiar love they give as she slowly dies as one of the two liars.

She forced happiness in her hurricane, and now she wanted nothing but dying.

~she~

Tears showed abundance in her eyes. She was a portrait of a woman that a man could ever demand.

Brittle.

Gentle.

Silent.

But it makes her feel weak. Women are toys. She looked for control.

Cold blood circulated around her body.

Crying as the seal of showing her innocent and pitiful.

She is an actress playing in a broken bad dream. She will never stop causing turmoil, her tears transforming into strings, modestly driving her prey insane.

She is trapped in a mayhem even though there weren't whispers ringing inside her head.

They think she had crossed the great divide, but she's secretly eating them alive.

There were numerous souls she ate but none of it revives her. Her tears are lies, her smiles are faked and her eyes are a blasphemous gift.

And her honesty had died out before she knew it. She was a victim of a demon called Liar, a ghost lurking everywhere and there is this monster walking behind her.

She screamed once again, exhausting her lungs for a voice to escape from her sewn mouth. It was an embroidered smile that speaks as modest as a sanctuary, but meant a metaphoric surprise of guns and roses.

She can't quit. She is still on the hunt. She is a sculpture of fallen leaves surprising everyone with its deathly beauty.

Her heart is as hard as a rock, she can't even feel it beating like it used to. Her mind feels empty, all those fresh memories beginning to fade away.

She used to care a lot, her happiness doesn't seem to end until it's an evil laughing renegade.

She covered her ears, this cannot be happening, she must stay awake. It made her traumatic and sent her screaming before, and coming out now torpor.

Until her whimpers mysteriously convert themselves into psychopathic laughter, like demons who used to tear her off.

She stood up and raised a knife and continued her chase her ultimate desire.

She carried thorns and began a killing spree, to make pure satisfaction out of fresh human blood.

She is scary and she knows it.

She doesn't care about it.

After all, what they're seeing is a crying little liar.

~they~

They were flowing together with a routine of lying. They walked in the streets, almost getting hidden and unnoticed.

Hidden. A lurking secret.

And their eyes locked on each other, diving deep into each other's souls. They are desperate maidens, chasing their own sense of youth.

They were afraid at the strike of midnight, it's an hour of gloom, when they get to wander in languor.

They did not. They never will. In their eyes were both something they wanted from each other.

A balance of two opposing colors, each with a single stain from the other. They earned their first scars, as they were restless through mornings and evenings.

They raised their knives and clashed again aggressively.

They are two liars.

She is an exploding centerpiece.

And hers are lungs that breathed out death.

They are two liars, with a need for escape from their cages. They need to be tamed and freed from getting devoured into their darkness.

They don't want to be lost again, and they are two liars.