#except maybe antarctica

[caoimhe-from-hoenn]

Hey, I saw your posts about your Lileep, and noticed a lot of similarities to the Rockruff I found in the wild recently in the Weald in Galar. Do you happen to know if that shiny mill you mentioned had customers this far out?

@greensdreams

According to the docs Team Glimmer is based outside of the Culai Region, so it makes sense

I think some of them mentioned Galar yeah, and some of the mons were sourced from Alola and Kalos too

[danwhobrowses]

Okay sure just split the group again I'm sure nothing could go wrong this time dividing them into sub-groups to sting at high levelled and relatively unknown areas with high risk and high threat of boss level enemies in the vicinity and then go on another break to make us stew on that, it's fine IT'S FINE!

[spaceorphan18]

How an animated series saved Remy LeBeau (again)

It's a bit of a hyperbolic title, but catchy, non?

I was looking over my comic collection as I've decided to reread X-Men's 60 year history over the course of the summer. And it got me thinking about a dead period of 616 canon that I've never actually read. Around the time Rogue hooked up with Magneto and scooted off to the Avengers, I decided I'd be done with comics for a while. And didn't start again until Rogue (and Gambit) came back to the X-books in 2017's Astonishing X-Men. But it made me wonder -- What happened to Gambit in that time??

Well, after his solo ended, he flitted around to X-Factor and hung out with X-23 and then kind of went 'poof' for a good long while.

Why? I can only guess the same reason this is a running motif with Gambit. There's something about him that drives the X-Office crazy. I'm not here to speculate what or how or who of it all. I don't know enough about the back end of Marvel to give concrete answers. But I think what has surprised me (recently) is that he's definitely a fan favorite character.

[Yes, I know he can be a divisive character. Yes, I know elements of his character from the 90s have not aged well. Yes, I know there are those of you who can't stand him. Don't really care - you can get off my lawn, thank you.]

Which got me thinking -- Gambit's original popularity, I believe, stemmed from the original X-Men Animated Series. He had just started showing up in the comics at the time, and had barely any kind of page time. And the X-Men TAS swung and was a hit. And so was Gambit.

I don't really know that Gambit would be around today if TAS hadn't done its thing. Would the X-Office have kept him around? I really have no idea.

But they did try to get rid of him. That was the point of leaving him in Antarctica. And things were just never the same after that. Claremont tried his best in the early 2000s. And then Deathbit happened. Carey's run wasn't bad. But Carey clearly had an agenda for other things... And then, Gambit just kind of faded into the background. (I hear his run as a side character for Laura (X-23) was good - but I haven't read that.)

Bless Kelly Thompson (always) for sparking life back into him with (and his relationship with Rogue). And bless the fact that she actually married him to Rogue. Yes, I understand comics -- my god look what they did to Peter and MJ, no one really gets to be happily married except Sue and Reed. He and Rogue are now really tied together in a way that I don't think is going to be undone any time soon.

Even if the X-Office still isn't thrilled with the guy. Krakoa era has been less than ideal. (I can't comment on it fully - I haven't read much of it, as I'm behind on my comic reading.) But I've heard rumors that one reason Thompson was let go was that she didn't want Gambit killed off. And she didn't like the direction they wanted to take the character.

Which leads me to X-Men 97. Killing him off sucked. Really. As a fan, it really sucked. But - my god, the reaction to it. Gambit was amazing. And all I've heard lately is good things about the character. There's been a Gambit resurgence in the best way. He may have went out -- but he went out with a bang. X-Men 97 made an emotional impact with people. And that changes things.

Gambit is cool again.

And I love it.

What's even more exciting is the fact that the X-Office has changed hands again and Gail Simone on Uncanny who (if her Twitter/X feed is to be believed) is really enjoying writing the character. Which means (hopefully) at least another year or two in the comics of some (hopefully) great Gambit stuff.

And maybe there will be some changing of hearts and minds in the X-Office.

It's actually very exciting.

And, guys, I really (really, really) doubt he'll be completely gone from X-Men 97, too.

Because Remy LeBeau never stays down for long.

But as a fan, it's nice to see him be on top again. And I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon.

[purpledemonlilyposting]

And here we have Lily Orchard unironically defending moé anime just because I'm critical of it despite it being the exact kind of stuff the so-called disgusting weebs who "fetishize Japan" she loves to complain about are into. More under the cut!

[Lily's Post]

"Director" in anime does often equate to "show runner" but there is barely any information on the development of this bland paint by numbers anime about moeblobs next to big ship machinery.

But considering Hanada was in charge of the series composition and wrote the screenplay of every single episode I would say he shaped the thing. It's just funny that Lily bitches about moé anime seasonal slop when that's Hanada's bread and butter.

But ah yeah, those stupid feminists, complaining about shows where female characters are all depicted as pure, airheaded, simple-minded and idealized for the male gaze. Totally not the response you'd see from an MRA neckbeard weeb, eh Lily? And you're agreeing with it.

What "pro moé" anime fans are ripping me apart except for "Christian libertarian communist" @kuuderekun over there? Who is probably sending all of these asks. Are these really the sorts of people you're making your bed with Lils? People who like School Days and lolicon?

You'll notice none of my critiques of A Place Further than the Universe have been "toddlerface bad". It's brainless teenage girls designed to appeal to the male gaze bad. And Lily, you were squealing the entire video about how cute and dumb the girls are. Yeah. That's the appeal.

Given I'm a feminist I maybe don't like women and girls being depicted as simple-minded creatures to be cooed at. It's still objectification. You're just not experienced enough with anime to have recognized what this boring, poorly written show is. Everything in it is just in service of putting moé joshi kosei next to big technical machinery to appeal to otaku autists. It's not the WORST example of this kind of show, but it is one.

For god's sake the girls only get on the expedition through sheer dumb happenstance and narrative contrivances. Zero characters besides Shirase have any real reason to go to Antarctica, even her mother didn't. Her mother wasn't even an Artic researcher or an engineer or anything, she just wanted to go to Antarctica cause it sounded neat. She and her two adult female friends also act like doe-eyed braindead teenagers.

And then the mom died going out in a blizzard trying to retrieve a laptop leaving her daughter motherless for no reason, but this is treated as nothing but beautiful and heartwarming by the show. It's so asinine.

How's that Antarctica video doing by the way?

[sweet-little-tank-top-number]

Ok so, logically I know that Stargate SG-1 is episodic television that has to return to some semblance of status quo at the end of each episode. Therefore, physical injuries are always resolved before the top of the next episode, with no lasting ramifications unless they are relevant to the plot. Hand waved because the show format demands it.

So… I’ve got a little personal headcanon about it: I think Sam regularly uses the goa’uld healing device.

The healing device belonged to Kendra on Cimmeria and SG-1 obtains it after her death (and after Sam’s possession by Jolinar) in early season 2. Furthermore, we don’t see Sam actively use it onscreen until she heals Cronus in early season 3. So my little theory doesn’t account for earlier injuries, like Jack’s busted leg in Antarctica.

In any case, it seems silly for them not to use a resource like this.

So I’ve got a few points to this headcanon:

They prioritize study of the hand device first, trying to figure out how it works and if they can replicate it or create a version anyone can use. They can’t. It’s the only one they have unless they find more later.

They might be worried that repeated use might cause a milder form of the madness induced by a sarcophagus.

They’re not sure about the power supply and how much juice the thing has in it, so they don’t know how long it will last.

Due to the Naquadah in her blood after Jolinar, Sam is the only one at the SGC who can use it for quite a while… until Vala comes along, I think.

Sam takes a while to learn how to use it, just like there was a learning curve with her using a kara kesh in season 2. The thing requires Sam to tap into strong emotion/desire to use it and she is someone who keeps a tight lock on her emotions.

According to the tie-in novel, Roswell, it takes quite a lot out of the user, so I imagine Janet would try to restrict usage so that Sam doesn’t do any harm to herself. A goa’uld using one can easily repair their host, but Sam doesn’t have that luxury.

The same novel also mentions that the device can create a mental link, much like the kara kesh did between Sha’re and Daniel in Forever in a Day. I can see Sam being uncomfortable with that aspect of it and reluctant to use it except in the most dire circumstances.

The device can only heal, not bring back the dead.

There also seems to be a limit to the extent of injury it can heal, as evidenced by the failure to heal Daniel after he got irradiated. Or maybe Sam just isn’t skilled enough to handle the catastrophic failure happening in Daniel’s body at the time compared to a bullet wound or staff blast.

All this to say that I think they keep the healing device around and Sam is brought into the infirmary to help from time to time. But they don’t rely on it, and only have her step in to help with injuries that are life-threatening or may result long-term, crippling damage. They just use good old Tau’ri medicine for everything else.

So while Sam does truly enjoy her scientific work in her lab, this headcanon adds another level to her workaholic tendencies. She has an incredible sense of personal responsibility and self-sacrifice, so I think she would feel compelled to stick around the SGC in case they need her. I don’t think she’d forgive herself if someone died in the infirmary when she could have made a difference.

No wonder Jack can never get her to go fishing…

(Wrote up this whole longpost just to justify the shippy scene in my head where Sam uses the healing device to fix the staff wound on Jack’s leg after Netu. Because of her rattled emotional state due to the deep dive into Jolinar’s memories, she sorta fumbles when trying to heal him and inadvertently creates a strong mental link. Both Sam and Jack get a deep look into each others’ vulnerable mental state.)

[blorbocedes]

this is just curiosity, not hate or anything like that. pls feel free to ignore if not comfortable answering. i understand you’re a max fan. however max is very controversial and has done some very controversial things e.g defending nelson piquet using a racial slur against lewis and even yesterday he declined to do interviews due to boo’s etc but said it was a normal thing in sport when it happened to lewis. i know max & lewis’ relationship is basically non existent & a hard one lmao, and this is maybe just tit for tat, so perhaps these are bad examples to use but does stuff like that make it hard to like max or it’s easy to excuse his behaviour? again not hate just max fans make me curious lol

every driver has done controversial things...... I do not care if max gets booed or if he skips an interview. every driver gets booed, esp if you're the winner, it is a part of the sport. seb got booed, michael, lewis, nico, max

I mean, assuming you are a lewis fan so does lewis hanging out and vacationing with known sexual abusers (jared leto, shaun white, ansel elgort, to name a few, leto and white who he spent new years' in Antarctica with) make it hard to like lewis or excuse his behavior?

there is no perfect Angel in the oil guzzling money laundering sport. 🤷

I think it's fine if you hate max or have different boundaries/standards/moral objections or just don't like him.

but the moral purity of the way some people behave that if you like max = you condone racism is a reach, cause people don't think you like seb = you believe in sexually objectifying female reporters in a male dominated sport without public apology as long as you later rebrand into a feminist girldad.

you don't need to agree with everything a driver you're a fan of does, this is accepted by most fans except when it comes to macks.

[ripplestitchskein]

I know it’s just a four minute short Stolas isn’t even in, but I think the now running theme of Blitz being “bad” at sex, at least oral, being somewhat confirmed, really ties into what I find most appealing about them. We see in The Circus that Stolas is the one who laughs at his jokes, it’s a running thing, Blitz being unfunny, we see it in flashbacks, in comments made by other characters, by the audience in Seeing Stars, with Stolas always being the notable exception. And Stolas is genuine in his laughter, he truly finds Blitz funny when at large he apparently isn’t. Blitz still presents himself as someone who is though, he sticks to the clown schtick, and despite the failures he keeps trying with increasing desperation, just like he kept trying with the balloon horse and the crystal. This contrast of everyone’s reaction vs Stolas’s is so important that one of the ways Blitz realizes Stolas is truly angry and means what he says is that Stolas didn’t laugh.

The bad at sex gag reads the exact same way to me. We have this idea that because of how Blitz presents himself, that he is considered generally attractive, that he is an asshole but he can throw down in the bedroom so people still give it a shot. But we have several comments that imply his dick game was not what was bringing them in. Verosika is the presenter of this information initially so it could just be from her perspective or even just spite based, at least that was true until we account for the new short which seems to confirm her statements. It is the same contrast of Blitz presenting himself one way, and even expressing that he can try harder if the other party is displeased, and us learning that the world at large is not into it but Stolas is. He like sings about it, he was excited about it, and that’s not down to experience or him not knowing better, he genuinely was into it. He derived pleasure from it and found it attractive. Even in Full Moon he blushes and hesitates when Blitz pushes his legs apart. Sex and humor are bimodal in the way that if you aren’t enjoying it you might give it a go a few more times before deciding it isn’t for you, or that you like some aspects and not others. Stolas is very clearly on the Blitz side for both of these. And he is an exception, if Verosika is the narrative proxy for the feelings of the Anti Blitz party attendees as a whole, which I think she is - stabbing his dick and saying no one wants it anyway - that this is a general opinion held by many, just like Blitz being not funny, that Stolas stands in contrast to.

The other thread tying them together in the narrative is Blitz’s performance anxiety itself. In the past for the humor we see him either failing completely in black and white flashbacks with no relief because Stolas wasn’t there, or we see him failing initially and Stolas reassuring him and giving him his confidence back by laughing. Now that we have additional information that Blitz is, on the whole, maybe not everyone’s cup of sexual tea It could be argued that Stolas’s over the top simping and outward showing of lust is the same as him laughing. Blitz certainly derived confidence from sexual performance when it came to Stolas, he had a lot of bravado about it and he put in a fuck ton of effort to the point where he thinks it’s all he has of value to him. Stolas expresses his appreciation loudly and outwardly. Blitz doesn’t trust it though, just as he doesn’t trust that Stolas is laughing at his jokes for real. Slowly over time Stolas stopped making those comments, and gave him outs on their arrangement. And then he stops laughing too. Blitz had no issue with the crystal when he was performing for Stolas but in Antarctica he freezes up and implies it’s been an ongoing off screen struggle. Just like he seemed to have no problem with performing oral when it was for Stolas. Millie tries to encourage him but Moxxie has to physically step in and show him. Blitz doesnt fix it himself. His confidence is still where it was when he was failing, they were just able to get home because Moxxie stepped in. Blitz has some new information but he didn’t suddenly develop confidence, not like he has in the past when Stolas was there to laugh or flirt. This really highlighted the consequences of what happens when Blitz doesn’t have Stolas to help his confidence both with sex and humor.

In summary I just love the idea that they are compatible on both of these levels in opposition to what seems to be mainstream opinion. That Blitz, the circus clown, has a captive and supportive audience in Stolas in all areas, his humor, his abilities, his business, and his sexual performance.

[9haharharley1]

What headcanons do you have with Jack and Pitch? (And maybe Nightlight and Kozmotis for that matter?)

Individually?

Jack:

He's dyslexic. He can read, albeit incredibly slowly, but the words start to blend together after a page or two.

He enjoys going to shows and plays, concerts, movies, and anything that allows him to be around people while also sitting in the very back of the venue or up in the rafters. He'll even sit at sports events and occasionally get a good laugh for making it snow and delay the game.

He has claustrophobia - can't stand to be inside for long periods of time - and also has a fear of not being able to breathe.

Pitch:

He loves horror movies and scary stories. He's seen and read just about everything logged under the genre, has even been the inspiration for a lot of them, and has given "inspirational" nightmares to authors and creatives to inspire more work from them. He terrorized people like Poe and Lovecraft when they were children.

He absolutely sits in on the annual The Thing viewing in Antarctica and enjoys setting the mood for the researchers stationed there. He absolutely takes Jack here on dates.

He has an insane alcohol tolerance. As in alcohol doesn't affect him almost at all except for a heavy buzz, and it wears off quick. He found this out after some time alone on earth, trying to drink the memories away when they come, but when he couldn't drink himself into oblivion, he went into a rage and took it out on the humans.

He's learned to keep himself incredibly busy to avoid bad memories and has taken up many a hobby over the years.

Kozmotis:

His marriage was a political union between himself - who comes from a high-class, high-society family - and an ambassador from a neighboring Constellation. He and Astraea move to his family home in Orion right before having Emily, where it's far enough away to keep from becoming targets for the Nightmare Armies.

He and Astraea are friends, and they love each other, but they are not entirely happily married. It feels more like an obligation to fulfill for them.

He hates the white uniform the Golden Army is required to wear. He'd much prefer black.

Nightlight:

He's curious about everything, but isn't likely to ask about things. He's more likely to figure it out himself, with no real regard for consequences

His fight or flight is mostly all fight, but outside of using his staff, he doesn't know any real hand-to-hand combat.

His glow doubles as blushing when he's feeling high emotions, and until meeting Koz, never had a problem keeping it under control.

Black holes have tried to eat him and his brothers in the past. It was probably the first time he felt fear when confronted with one.

[punkzines]

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

everlasting torment

GHIDORAH X READER

summary : Ghidorah has fun with you using his tongues, except youre really boring and kills you.

WARNINGS: this has G0r3 & Death. It’s really badly written, but still….if youre heavily sensitive to that then don’t read!

a/n: excuse my bad writing i wanted to write something scary for Ghidorah because I’m attracted to him but would be scared irl and know he would kill me… still. maybe some fun before dying. but this is so bad. I also don’t know how to characterize the heads, just take it as the reader being to disoriented to even tell anything.

word count: 2.4k

Death can manifest itself in numerous ways. Its variations are countless. One thing has remained the same, you can always recognize death when you see it. A rat would tell you that death is the cat outside its house patiently waiting for the right moment. A seal would tell you that death is the polar bear it cannot see. If they were to survive, they would be able to say, “I survived death.”

For you, death is Monster Zero. And you’re certain that you will not survive him.

It was hard to see through the rain as the only light illuminating the darkness of the night was the insistent thunder and lightning. The wind was not calm, it was as if it was trying to drag you across the world like some mindless puppet. As if the storm was alive and it was trying to kill you. It might as well be, thousands have died in the short time this beast has revealed itself. Your surroundings had come to ruin too due to the titans suddenly revolting, the buildings were nothing but mountains of rubble, you didn’t even want to begin to imagine the amount of bodies that must be under it. You did not know who survived or who died. There was a fallen helicopter near you that had been recording the whole fiasco until it had ultimately fallen, which was the same helicopter that had hit your already damaged home. You’d been left wounded, and thankfully the injuries did not kill you on spot- but, you were still bleeding and by the minute becoming more and more dizzy.

Deep cuts grazed your left arm and legs partially covered by a piece of fabric, along with smaller ones across your face and body covered in dust but the rain was making sure that was being washed out. You were no doctor but if you did not properly treat yourself soon, you would surely die from the loss of blood or an infection or hypothermia. You limped backwards, as if to get away from that monster you felt- saw coming your way. At this moment, tending your wounds was nothing but a waste of time.

You didn’t know anything of it, you’ve never seen anything like it. The first time you saw it, was when it had first appeared in reports online. Of what had happened in Antarctica. The current monsters you had very vague knowledge of, or as scientists on TV liked to call them ‘kaijus’, did not look or behave like that thing. He only brought destruction, destruction, destruction. How did it go unnoticed all this time on Earth?

You watch the sky attentively, as the storm gets much closer. It was safe to say that fear was the only thing keeping you alive. You shiver, as the air grew colder- stronger- and the sounds of wings flapping and slow breathing filled your ears.

And it was there that you caught a glimpse of him, all of him, your breath hitching as you do so. Time itself slowed down. Small pieces of debris hit your body, but that wasn’t important. His far reaching gaze pierces through you. Fear you’ve never felt before runs through your blood, your body freezes in place.

Death demanded you to stay still. If you move, he will kill you and if you don’t move, he will kill you.

You needed to run, you knew that, as fast as you could before he could get you and kill you but you also knew that was impossible. There was no way you could escape him. There’s no way. You’re going to die, I’m going to die and that was final. There was no surviving him. He was big, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before. He looked bigger than Godzilla himself, and he was already big enough. You couldn’t find it in yourself to even scream because why would you scream? To whom? Who could help you against this evil that stood before you?

With a deafening bellow, the creature landed in front of you making its presence known to you— to the dead bodies buried deep into the amounts of destruction it had caused— the sound was beyond loud, making you shrivel down in fear, bringing you to your knees in an instant. It was like the ground under you was shaking- no, it was shaking. The ground was quaking violently. Staying steady wasn’t easy, your whole body trembled, relishing in the burning sensation of fear.

As the dragon-like monster relaxed its enormous wings, and shook himself— causing sparks of lightning to cackle around him— fortunately, not hitting you— it didn’t take long before it brought its gaze down to your frail, helpless, weak- body. And there it was, what you feared most, three massive heads loomed over you—

—you only saw pure malice in those eyes. Their eyes were locked to yours, sending a terrible feeling of dread down your spine. How this could be real, and simply not a nightmare you cannot wake up from was— laughable.

They studied you, low deep breaths emitting from each and one of them. The three heads boldly communicated in front of you with each other— each putting their own input which was hard to understand, but you’re pretty sure that the nodding and snarling means that they will now kill you because before you knew it—

—the left head grabbed you by its tongue harshly with no remorse at all. You let out a shrill full of terror at the pressure of it all, the roughness of its tongue scraping against parts of your exposed skin.

Your thoughts raced and went blank at the same time. Your body was held against your will, your hands were under the pressure of it, and no matter how much you struggled- you couldn’t set them free. You were trapped, trapped-

The left head seemed to move its tongue around showcasing it to the other heads, like you were some kind of stupid trophy. You doubt that was the value that they held for you. Then it did something else that left a bitter taste in your mouth— outweighing the taste of blood caused by the excessive biting of your lips— something you wouldn’t have caught if you hadn’t been paying attention.

He chuckled. All three of them.

It was like a- deep, croaky weird chuckle- strained- you could feel the vibrations of it running through your entire body. You had no idea a being such as this one could… laugh? It was laughing at your situation, at your fear— it was humiliating— it was terrifying. The feeling alone made you tune out everything, everything around you. You were at his mercy, ever since you were born— if something like this was hiding in earth, this was an unavoidable outcome. You were bound to die like this and there was nothing you could do about it.

The scream you let out was nowhere quiet as the head suddenly flung you up into the air, but it was drowned out by the low rumbles and went unheard in the lousy storm. The air was knocked out of you, was there any air to begin with? You closed your eyes for the painful impact.

You were caught by another head, you could immediately notice by the way the tongue felt much more- softer, though painful nonetheless as it grabbed you by your legs upside down. Which was a weird thing to notice, but right now you were just— limp. All sense of escape has vanished and the possibility of surviving is nothing but a dream that’ll never happen. Opening your eyes, to be immediately met with those same eerie eyes. The left head let out a snort and the right head surveyed you closely, with fury in its eye.

The tongue that held you seemed to have its fun playing with you- tormenting you as it swung you around- when you were hit with another swing to the air— equally as terrifying as the other time— and caught by the right head, this time you almost slipped down to the ground, but were caught at the last minute.

Why were they doing this? You tried to break the hold on your waist but scratching the tongue did nothing but result in a hiss. Why? Why? Why? WHY? Why have they not killed you? Why have they not ended your life? They were toying with you, weren’t they? They were, you knew it and they knew you knew it.

“Kill me!” You suddenly screamed out in pain, you didn’t care anymore.“Kill me now!” You punched and writhed against the tongue's hold, hoping to harm it. There were only two outcomes, one resulting in quick death and the other resulting in heavy injuries and slow death “Kill me!” But that didn’t matter because—

—death was mercy. You would have preferred dying of natural causes, a peaceful death. With a loving partner, and surrounded by family. Instead, you will die young- you already knew. At least, you will die knowing you asked for it, right? This was something you asked for. This should give you some type of- peace?Comfort? Right? Right? Acceptance?

The right head growled but instead of dropping you to the ground like the pack of meat you were— it instead turned to the other heads— a low snarl setting deep inside him. And you couldn’t help but notice how the others were now closer— lightning struck behind you, illuminating their fiery amber eyes further. They didn’t seem interested at all.

They slithered their heads until you could feel their hot breath touching your skin— you felt small beads of sweat falling from you, and you began to feel the sense of the situation, lightheadedness overtaking you. Maybe it was from the fact that the heat that they radiated made it hard to breathe or maybe it was the fact that the rags that were covering your wounds had long since fallen— something you hadn’t noticed earlier. Something you should’ve noticed earlier.

However you hadn’t, and that was a grave mistake.

Because it drew the attention of the middle and left. You knew it wasn’t genuine curiosity nor was it interest. Monster zero wasn’t interested in some human beings' cuts and bruises. No, no, no! With the way they grew closer, as the head that held you still let out quiet croaks, you could tell it wanted to do nothing more than to keep you alive just barely.

Just barely so you could feel every single bit of pain. Just barely so it could hear you scream in agony. Just barely so it can feel powerful. Just like a king would. Just like a king would display his power to a nation and show he is not to be messed with, that his dominion was absolute and challenging him was foolish. That is exactly what this beast wanted to show. Humans held no power over it.

A human could not stop the way the tongue from the middle head stalked forward and draped you with saliva. A human could not stop the way the left swooped in and forced its tongue down one of the fatal wounds on your leg, while the other down the one on your arm.A human could not resist the yelp that would exit them, which soon would turn into a gut wrenching scream. A human could not stop screaming. You could not stop screaming.

How could you? How could you stop screaming when your skin was somehow being pulled from underneath?! You sensed the way the tip of their tongues both dug deeper, while the pressure on your waist was- by each excruciating moment- increasing, leaving you gasping for air, which you found that there was none all too quick. You could feel them in your bones. And the wounds! The wound on your left leg- now reached your mid thigh- you couldn’t see it, but the pain was an instant giveaway and the one on your arm- you watch in horror as the bones begin to show. Your arm was being ripped open.

Their moves were slow, but not sloppy. Monster zero knew each angle that would cause the most pain, not that it mattered— everything was just as painful.

Between your screams of agony and tears— you swear you see light. Not the light from the skies clearing up, not light even the light from the vicious thunder, not even the light from their breath. Their eyes, monster zeros eyes soften— as if to show remorse. Something that made your heart skip a beat in the sliver chance that maybe- maybe it would let you go. As bad as you were, you’d rather your slow death be painless. Was this his way of showing mercy? To let you live your last moments in peace?

No, it wasn’t.

He did not show mercy. You should’ve known better than to let hope re-enter your system.

One of them bites your leg off and before you even begin to process it- another bite to your arm. A sickening broken scream fills the air— your scream.

Your limbs! My leg- My arm! There was nothing to think, your heart might have been ripped out your chest— boiling agony overtook your senses. You're frozen in air, you cannot move or do anything for that matter- but scream.

It tricked you! It let you believe-

Your leg and arm are tossed to the side, Monster Zero did not have any interest in swallowing anything from you. Something so weak, something so weak like you, did not deserve it. You were nothing, too insignificant- inferior. Much like a fly who buzzed too loud.

The right head, whose hold had been blurred by the overbearing pain and your slippery consciousness— tightened its grip.

It wasn’t long until you couldn’t breath, and with your left weakly flailing in a futile attempt to claw at its tongue. You weren’t sure why you weren’t sure, you weren’t thinking.

In a disoriented state, you weren’t sure why you kept resisting. There was nothing-

Another tug to your abdomen and you break in half softly with a gasp.

Fragile, like glass you were.

Your body is brought inside the right mouth as the others watch silently, and then you’re chewed. Chewed like gum, chewed like when sheep chew on grass, broken and squashed, just to be spat out like a pile of vomit, your melted body splattered on the ground.

────────────────────────

a/n: Ni: Um anybody got a toothpick??? Got some skin stuck in here.

Ichi: No sorry. Maybe Kevin has some?

Kevin: Yeah i do actually! *hands him a “toothpick”

Ni: BOY THATS A TAMPON

[allwaswell16]

One Direction fics that have an emotionally repressed character in them as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

✦ This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

(E, 149k, superheroes) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.

✦ Love Is A Rebellious Bird by @gloriaandrews, @100percentsassy

(E, 134k, enemies to lovers au) Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine

✦ Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

✦  I’ll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt​

(E, 122k, friends to lovers) Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road.

✦ The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @kingsofeverything

(E, 109k, infidelity) Louis’ life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it’ll never be the same.

✦ ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

(E, 109k, Star Wars) a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.

✦ Promise in the Sky by Throwthemflowers

(E, 99k, religion) AU in which Harry Styles, a naïve, repressed, socially awkward Midwestern highschooler tries to navigate his fundamentalist evangelical parents and radically progressive older sister. 

✦ These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, a/b/o) He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega. Now, barely a year after his old man dropped dead and running the family company, if he makes a mistake with the Tomlinson and Sons merger and acquisition, it's game over.

✦ i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) by  thedeathchamber / @louehvolution

(E, 55k, secrets) Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

✦ That's What I'm Here For by @taggiecb

(E, 46k, farm au) Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking. Luckily for him his children know just the man for the job.

✦ we should open up (before it's all too much) by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 43k, vampire) Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

✦ I Like You, Say It Back by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry

(E, 43k, a/b/o) the one where it takes a lot of time for Harry and Louis to figure it out. But they do, they always do, don't they?

✦ Follow Your Arrow by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 36k, a/b/o) They said Louis playing alpha wouldn’t affect anything. It was the best thing for the band, so he doesn’t really regret it except deep in the dead of night, when he bites down on his knuckles to swap the echoing ache of depri for a sting of pain.

✦ Compass to my Soul by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k, a/b/o) Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

✦ When the Sun Won't Let You Sleep by @allwaswell16

(E, 30k, Antarctica) Four years ago, Louis Tomlinson left the UK to live on an Antarctic research station for reasons best left in the past.

✦ You Might Want To Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 24k, grief) When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

✦  the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry

(T, 22k, royal au) When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through.

✦ I hope our love burns brightly by fanshae

(T, 8k, magic) Louis Tomlinson can’t really remember ever not noticing Harry Styles. 

—Rare Pairs—

✦ I Had Rather (series) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 261k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Nick and Louis don't like each other, not even a little bit, not even at all.

✦ You're the Feeling I'm Missing by sheesusnat 

(T, 2k, Niall/Shawn Mendes) Something is off, though. Something is missing. Someone is missing.

[dragonthunders01]

Spectember D15: Posthumans

5 million years has been since the last human being die on earth, but is a world still ruled by humans, or what descended from them.

All started for the struggle for a civilization that collapsed in a cataclysmic event of interplanetary scale that annihilated the biosphere and a good chunk of the human population, for sure it was not pollution or the man’s hand, or even something like an asteroid, maybe was an extraterrestrial invasion? A supernova? Whatever was this event, it was strong enough it pulled out a civilization that was already on their early steps on traveling to star systems and already was settled across the solar system, it was the endgame for all of them.

The last remaining survivors did the best to stand and find ways to perpetuate the species, but when options at short term turned useless there was a last hope to humanity to survive until the world they live on would recover, they focused the last resources on build a vault designed to last until the habitable conditions of earth returned and repopulate the planet thanks to thousands of human specimens samples that could be born and reclaim the world in the future helped by the synthetic hands of long term lasting artificial intelligences.

Though whatever happened in the planning, something went wrong, something caused to make those restored humans to be shaped into what was sort of similar to them but more ape like, was this deliberated or if it was an inconvenient? if it was ideal for mankind to rise like their ancestors or if this “devolution” was something sketched for the artificial systems as a way to secure their offspring for a systematic failure? Is another question which will likely have no proper answer, but the result of this turned at the end successful for the survival of the biological lineage of humans.

When that humanity arose of the ruins of the again habitable earth, they sort of resembled lanky shorter versions of a chimp, brownish, with a more developed diet thanks to a modification in their digestive system and dentition allowed them to exploit every resource available as generalist omnivores. These creatures which could be called the "woodland dwellers" conquered most of the continent in matter of centuries, they did not need transport or technology to do it, they just traveled, wandered like their ancestors although they no longer were bipedal.

They started somewhere in Eurasia, eventually crossing to new regions and in a thousand years the majority of the world that was easy to access through routes was filled with these, all of them started to establish wherever food was easy to find, then came those that started to venture in new environments, new climates, migrated across continents.

In 50 thousand years, there were new populations that isolated themselves and became adapted to their respective environments: Tundra, Grasslands, canopies, the deserts, the coasts and seas, rivers, etc., all product of constant migration and colonization of new terrains.

100 thousand years, few ice ages went and came, they have turned the balance of diversity further towards speciation at a rhythm that only will benefit those species that can be flexible to change, they manage to colonize America, as well expand towards Africa and many of the island regions across the pacific ocean somehow reaching up to Australia, and so conquered most of the planet with exception of Antarctica.

1 million years, many of those ecologically adapted or regionally isolated populations have turned into different species, they still resemble the woodland dweller to a degree but they have changed considerable depending of their environment, with new behaviors, sizes and faces.

3 million years, the world was starting to see the new men shapes, some robust, some more slendy than their ancestors, some agile, some slow walkers, bipedal, facultative bipedal, quadrupeds, a lot of them took advantage of being the only dominant megafauna to reign as only a handful of small surviving mammals, resilient birds and many reptiles and amphibians represent competition, some have started to take over but it will be a long time until the posthumanity is dethroned from their state, meanwhile the oceans and rivers are dominated by shark and fishes, though there were already the start of a branch of the human dwelling species that became semiaquatic, their evolutionary path is increasingly fast.

And now 5 million years hence, a lot of these new posthuman species have specialized and turned even more different of their ancestral form, many look like an amalgamation between different animals with features of many of their gone monkeys and ape relatives. For things of natural selection and that speciation the new species that evolved of the isolation for the last 2 million years have migrated and now claimed another place on other continents, especially in America which in these million years saw a wave of posthuman species that replaced many of the endemic species, and some of those moved towards Asia. These ecosystems have one of everything, browsing or grazing herbivores, specialized prey eaters (insectivores, mollusk eaters, scavengers), varied lineages of omnivores, and full carnivores.

Specifically one of the carnivore lineage that evolved of the original "Woodland dweller" came from a specialized form reduced in size, adapted on hunting small animals and after millions of years these started to increasingly expand their prey range, growing in size as they replaced previous predatory forms that became stagnated. With the new diversity of the posthuman formed ecosystem growing in complexity, the new predatory forms could rise to hunt these down. Some are fast small prey hunters, some became more arboreal, some are more prominent on the grassland or mountains, all of them came in a considerable range of sizes from the extinct domestic cat to a panthers, but upon the appearance of large herbivores, a new more formidable and heavier predator evolved, this was the Spiketooth.

Spiketooths are among the largest terrestrial carnivores of earth, with a height of 2.3 meters tall and weight some 300 kg, their range extend across Eurasia, coming on the most temperate regions, they are heavy predators adapted for ambush and wrestling their prey into submission rather than fast hunt and kill. They hunt down large posthumans like the Eurasian slothmen, heavy descendants an arboreal heavy species from Africa that resemble a ground sloth, though formidable fighters with their long hand claws, or the armored species like the Temperate Lockskin, fatty and hairless posthumans that are semi bipedal, descendants of the tundra species that moved to the tropics and lost their fur due to the climate they live on, turning their skin very robust made against medium size predators, they often hold a handful of small sized gibbon like posthumans that feast on parasites and live in sort of symbiosis with their host Lockskin, often even being able to warn these of the incoming attack of a spiketooth.

This large carnivore evolved specifically to deal with the thought skin of these animals, with hypertrophied conical incisive that often pressure and cut through the hardest epidermis and are capable to pierce any defense of the large forms, with their carnassial teeth they are capable of tear down and cut with quite efficacy the meat of their prey, often taking also chunks of bones if they are capable off.

[verymuchimmortalcat]

I'm captivated by you, baby, like a fireworks show

For Bio Dad! Bruce Wayne Month, Prompt: Dating ao3 @maribat-bdbwm

Marinette paces across her room, glaring at her phone. Tikki had given up on her a while ago and was probably raiding the kitchen now. She types out a message, ‘would you be free on saturday?’ before backtracking and deleting it again. Why is this so hard? It’s just Jon. Too busy trying to figure out how to ask him out, she doesn’t notice when Dick pokes his head through the door and asks, “Something wrong?”

She jumps a bit in shock and he laughs. Glaring at him, she says, “No, not at all. Get out.”

Unsurprisingly, her brother doesn’t listen to her and walks right in, sitting down on her bed.  She stuffs her phone into her pocket before he sees too much. But because her siblings are both extremely annoying and ridiculously skilled, he catches sight of something and puts it together almost immediately. Marinette groans internally as his eyes light up and he grins. “It’s about your crush on Jon then?”

Hoping her face isn’t as red as a tomato, she shoots back, “What crush? I don’t have a crush on Jon Kent.”

Dick (truly an appropriate name for him, she thinks) laughs again, “And Tim has a regular sleep schedule.”

She doesn’t give in, “Really? Good that he fixed that then.”

Undeterred, he continues, “Just ask him out. I’m fairly certain he’ll say yes.”

Marinette sighs and walks over to her brother, sitting down next to him. “It’s not like I’m not trying. I just don’t know what to say. It’s not like I can just ask him to a movie or to play video games or anything. We do all that all the time. How will he know it’s a date?”

“Tell him it’s a date.”

She scoffs, “Right. Because that’s not terrifying at all.”

He offers her a smile, “Even if he says no, what’s the worst that could happen.”

She replies immediately, “He doesn’t want to be friends anymore and everything becomes so awkward that I have to move to Antarctica.”

He gives her a look, “The most realistic worst case scenario.”

“I don’t know how to do those.”

He sighs, “Even if he says no, which by the way is extremely unlikely, you’re not going to stop being friends. You’ve been friends forever.”

“But-”

“Just think it over.” And he pushes himself off her bed and walks out her room. Marinette lets herself fall back. It’s fine, she tells herself, it’ll probably go away soon enough.

.oOo.

It does not go away but it doesn’t really affect her interactions with Jon either. Things are normal and normal is sitting in the living room and beating Jon at video games. She turns to look at him, ready to rub her victory in his face but she’s met with a look so full of affection that she falters. Somewhat vaguely, she considers the possibility of Dick being right in his belief that Jon would want to go out with her.

Jon frowns, eyebrows scrunching adorably in confusion and it strikes Marinette that she’s acting weird. But before she can say anything, the door opens and Damian walks in. “Kent, we have to leave now.”

Beside her Jon looks surprised, “Already?”

“Unexpected developments. Father wants us downstairs immediately.”

He frowns but gets up nonetheless, shooting her an apologetic smile. Marinette waves him off, “It’s fine, not like I don’t bail on you all the time.”

“You also apologise profusely every single time,” he points out.

She grins at him, “You can make your apologies next time.”

“I will,” he promises, getting up and leaving the room. Damian looks at her questioningly once Jon has left the room. “What?” she snaps.

“Get together and end this misery.”

She splutters, “Damian, if-”

“If he hears me, maybe he’ll finally believe me when I tell him you like him too.” And then he walks out of the room before Marinette can grab him and thoroughly interrogate him.

She’s in desperate need for better siblings. Except Cass, Cass is the best.

.oOo.

Marinette takes it back, Cass is the worst. Her older sister grins mischievously and repeats, “You want to know if Jon likes you?”

The part of Marinette that thought this was a good idea has shrivelled up and died. Yes, Cass will know for sure but also Cass is definitely going to tease her about this for the next while. Regardless she nods, “Please?”

“Do you think he likes you?”

She groans, “Maybe. I don’t know. Why do you want to know?”

The older girl’s grin widens, “It’s funny.”

Marinette glares, getting up to leave. She’s at the door when Cass calls out, “He does.”

She turns, “huh?”

“He does like you, it’s very obvious. Steph thinks he has heart eyes. I agree.”

Marinette’s heart is racing and she can’t stop smiling. “Thank you,” she breathes out before running out the room.

As soon as she’s back in her room, she pulls out her phone to text Jon. Tikki looks at her, confused. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

Marinette: are you free on saturday?

Jon: yup Jon: movie night?

Marinette: yes Marinette: it’s a date

Her phone starts ringing instantly. Taking a deep breath, she picks up. “Hi.”

He skips the greeting, “You meant it when you said it was a date? Like an actual romantic date?”

She bites her lip, her siblings like messing with her but they wouldn’t lie about this. “Yes.”

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” is the breathless reply that comes and Marinette can hear the smile she knows so well. An identical one spreading across her face. “See you Saturday then? The usual time?”

Tikki gasps.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” she repeats, still smiling. The conversation turns from there, switching to their usual topics. Admittedly there’s so much more giggling than normal. Tikki squeals when the call ends. “Oh Marinette, I’m so proud of you.”

Marinette blinks, letting everything settle in before squealing, “Holy shit! I actually did that!!”

Tikki giggles and hugs her holder’s cheek.

.oOo.

It’s at family dinner, two days later that Jason asks, “Could you not have waited one more week, Pixie?”

She tilts her head in confusion, “For what?”

“Dating the tiny Superboy.”

She stares at him for a second, processing his words before screeching, “You bet on this??????”

[ritterum]

A Farewell to Arts

There's a strong possibility that in three weeks' time, I will pick up my violin for the last time and never have to play it professionally ever again. As somebody who has spent over 26 years playing the violin, this prospect fills me with a very complex mix of sorrow, dread, and relief. Relief is the easiest to explain: I hate playing the violin. This may seem strange for someone to say who has spent almost 3/4 of their life playing it professionally - but then again it's really not. I fell out of love with the damn thing about halfway through--Year 11 or 12--and everything since then has been an attempt to cling to it for purely rational economic reasons. Why give up the one skill you've been earning money for since before your teens? Why throw away the tens of thousands of hours you've invested in a skill for the sake of "because maybe I might like this other thing better"? Why reduce yourself to a nobody when you already have a fanbase, modest fame, reputation - everything that most people would kill to enjoy? When positive incentives stopped working, me and my handlers turned up the negative incentives instead - never a good idea in retrospect, but boyyy do the short-term gains blind you to the consequences. I burned out almost immediately, started skipping practice more and more, had to force myself to run through pieces that I could easily have done five, ten years earlier. When Covid-19 forced the world into a lockdown, I was secretly glad for it. I had concerts lined up that I had not prepared, could no longer prepare for, and being able to declare a pandemic-induced burnout, like so many of my colleagues worldwide were doing, was a heaven-sent alibi. I relished the freedom of not having to pick up the fucking instrument for days, weeks, months. After the lockdowns lifted, I pulled myself together enough to scrape by, since I was still taking a degree-course in solo performance. That worked for a couple of years, until I developed a tremor that may or may not have been psychosomatic in origin, and that more or less put a pin in the matter. On the good days, I can play more or less the same as I always have; on the bad days, I can hardly play a note because the bow keeps jumping all over the place.

That said, you don't spend over three quarters of your life doing something and not identify with it on a core level. There's always the question of what I'm going to do when all is said and done - when I get the degree and the diploma and lay down the violin for the last time in its case. The smart money is on performance-adjacent work: teaching, assisting in studios, managing other people's careers. Violin professors, luckily, don't need PhD's to teach in conservatories, but they do need their lucky breaks - usually starting as assistants. Availability for that depends heavily on the institution, and if it's not in the stars next year, then I'm damn well out of luck. Agenting and managing are somewhat easier - musicians always need agents to promote them - but the social requirements might prove a bit too high to hurdle. I've never been the most sociable of creatures, and the business will require me to put myself out there and be pushy, ruthless, and canny - traits I don't possess natively and have trouble summoning on the best of days.

Lastly, there's the regret of not hitting certain milestones under the "legacy" tab, little things like: performing at such-and-such festivals, or composing your own arrangement of a song, or being invited to performances in all major continents (excepting Antarctica, Nemesis to Violins). Some of those things, like composing arrangements, are still possible outside the theater, though getting them performed will take some convincing; the rest will, sadly, remain uncompleted. Then there's the matter of everybody you've met knowing you as "that musician fellow", and suddenly not having a thing to know you for anymore. What does the Pope become when he's no longer the Pope? You become defined by all the things you were, and the vastnesses you neglected to claim, rather than the things you try to build yourself up to be. It may not be a permanent state - it better not be - but you might as well get used to it while you build up a new skill set.

There's no clean ending to this. Terra incognita awaits me past the third week of January, and I sincerely do not know where I'll end up. I pray only that the New Year treat you as gently as I hope it treats me.

[theclaireredfield]

From Ada (@separatedway)

"Long time, no see."

@separatedway

Long time no see, indeed.

Claire wasn't stupid enough to think that this was the actual situation. Just because Claire never physically saw her, didn't mean her presence wasn't always there.

There was a slight tensing of her shoulders once Ada Wong was perceived, a gentle raising of hackles that she never grew out of. These instincts were perhaps a bit rude, when noticed, however they were ones that kept her alive, despite her lackluster attempts at ruining them with bad life decisions.

There was no smile, however her face was moved to something neutral as she greeted the older woman.

"Hello sweetie," Claire greeted, the words coming out smooth with a slight accent as she said it. It was unintentional, in the word 'hello'. Maybe remains of someone who left his scars on her in Antarctica. Claire learned to ignore it and just leaned into the greeting she chose like someone who worked at Disneyland for too long and still needed to address unruly guests with cordiality.

There was no meaning in that pleasantry, except that it meant she disliked you. Sweet terms of endearment were not her literal love language. It was civility wrapped around barely held back dislike.

And boy did she dislike Ada Wong. Not for anything she did to Claire. But for...

Claire huffed.

"Did you need something?" To the point; she didn't want to entertain this any longer than she needed to; the politeness to ask was a credit to her own growth as a person. Leon should be proud that she didn't start off like a shrieking banshee at his on again/off again situationship.

[mako-neexu]

If the theory about Chaldean actually being a version of Solomon from Chaldeas turns out to be true, as a Romani fan, would you be content with the possibility of him being summonable? Or do you think such possibility doesn’t exist at all/would you want Chaldean to be summonable at all? It feels like Nasu is preparing his identity reveal to happen in Antarctica, but nevertheless Chaldean claims he isn’t familiar with our Chaldea. Considering Dr.Roman has been a fan favourite for years and the fact that it’s heavily implied he’s Ritsuka’s hope (they think about him when they’re at their lowest), do you think there’s a way for Chaldean to somehow be relevant to Mash and Ritsuka? There’s also Mash’s “I wasn’t even able to say goodbye to him” regret, so I feel like Nasu is kind of preparing some type of closure in the finale? But since he claimed to be an enemy of Chaldea, I do wonder if it’s just gonna be a soul-crushing mentally exhausting battle against him as to parallel Solomon chapter (as if Romani’s fans weren’t tortured already smhhhh)

A lot of yapping I’m sorry… but just wanted to ask what are your overall thoughts on this whole Chaldean situation

okok so like ive said in the past (especially during december last year) everyone was saying they want a summonable romani because you know, feels and everyone loves roman. but i dont want a summonable romani. i think he shouldnt be summonable at all. whether the servant bears his name or his face, it doesnt matter to me. he shouldnt be summonable. he literally sacrificed himself at temple of time. he's suffered for a decade after wishing to be human and the grail granted him that. but at the last moment, his clairvoyance prevented him from having a normal human life and so his duty once more shackled him in this life as well. he was plagued with nightmares, always running away from his fears, it was a life where he couldnt live peacefully and he was a coward afraid of being close to others. and in the end, just when he was having fun, he had to give everything up. his life, his responsibilities, his existence, he made a self-sacrifice to save guda and mash and chaldea- paved the way for the future. it wouldnt make romani happy if he was ever summoned as a servant. because the burden of those memories as solomon, god's agent, the king of magic and grand caster- heroic spirit of the World, would be there and he would be bound to his duty for as long as he remembers. so the best ending for him is to be a free human without anything weighing him down. a life of normalcy just like he's always wanted.

as for chaldean, we barely know anything about him except for stuff like him having a sword, has medical knowledge, along with golden eyes and scars and a uniform almost the same as romani except the green part replaced with black. and yeah, i think we will see him in antarctica or maybe after the ruler ordeal call? depends on what happens..

considering chaldean is wearing "soemthing close to" romani's face, it is highly likely nasu will be writing those parts for romani and mash? but i do think chaldean came from the alien world. "that body" most likely comes from there as well. afaik theres not much info about it yet besides alien world, the apostles, marisbury's plan to bleach the earth all along that ensures the safety of the human order yet is cosmically regarded as a threat.

that said.. chaldean could also be goetia but if you see how he speaks in JP i remember everyone saying its completely different….that it isnt goetia at all but its also neither roman which led some people to theorize its galahad instead bc of the sword. again no one knows so far so we just have to wait and hope :P

and its okay! thank you for telling me your thoughts!

[monochromaticbeans]

🌸Safer This Way

Chapter 7 Where the Blossoms Fell

Sayuri's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the message on the screen.

Unknown Number:

Did you like the present I left for you?

Her hands trembled and fear gripped her stomach with an iron fist. Not only did that awful man invade her apartment, but now he had her phone number as well.

Sanzu snatched the phone from her hands and pried it open in a blaze of fury. He wrenched the battery out and Sayuri flinched as he threw it across the room, sending it skidding into the kitchen. “Goddammit!”

He tossed the dead phone onto the coffee table, a deep scowl etched on his face. Pacing like a caged lion, he ran a hand through his hair.

Fuck! Why hadn't he thought of her phone before? It wasn't like him to overlook something so obvious. Tracking someone's mobile was such an easy way to find them. He'd done it himself countless times. And Jiro probably had as well. Which meant… he knew where Sayuri was.

“It's not safe here anymore,” Sanzu said, his voice betraying the mix of anger and worry swirling within him. “I have to get you out of here.”

“But… where will we go?”

Sanzu drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves. There was only one place left—a place no one other than Mikey knew about. “To the last resort. Pack a suitcase. We're leaving in twenty minutes.”

Sayuri's head was spinning as she got dressed. Her thoughts were nothing more than a jumbled mess of anxiety. She could hear Sanzu on the phone in the living room, and although she couldn't make out his words, his tone said it all. She was in grave danger.

🌸🌸🌸

Making their way through the parking garage, Sayuri and Sanzu passed the black sports car. On the far side, half hidden behind a cement pillar, sat a parked delivery van—one just like the thousands, possibly millions, that zip up and down roads literally all over the world. Except for maybe Antarctica. Maybe.

Sanzu unlocked the doors and slid Sayuri's suitcase into the back. He grabbed a black knit cap and began tucking up his pink hair, checking his reflection in the side view mirror to be sure none was visible.

“Get in the back and stay down. Out of sight,” he instructed as he put on a blue jacket with the delivery company logo on the sleeves.

Sayuri nodded silently and climbed in, nestled among dozens of fake packages and shipping envelopes. No seat, no seat belt, just the bare metal floor. If Sanzu drove this thing the way he drove his car, she'd slide around like a bar of soap in wet hands.

Sanzu, in the blue jacket and knit cap, hooked a black mask over his ears before hiding his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. With none of his distinctive features visible now, he appeared to simply be a nameless, faceless courier.

The van wove through the streets and roads of Tokyo, obeying every traffic law and keeping under the speed limit. They were essentially invisible, hiding in plain sight as they left the city behind.

“Where are we going?” Sayuri asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the road noise.

“Somewhere nobody in their right mind would want to be.” Sanzu's words were a bit muffled beneath the black mask. It'd been ages since he wore one, and although it was stuffy and humid underneath, it didn't take long for him to get used to it again.

Nobody in their right mind. It almost made him chuckle. He hadn't been in his right mind for years. Even Mikey had raised an eyebrow when Sanzu told him about the hidden safe house.

Sayuri looked up at him expectantly from the back floorboard. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

He glanced at her before answering. Hopefully she wouldn't freak out. “Aokigahara Forest.”

“What?” she sputtered. “Are you serious?” The mere thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. All the poor, lost souls there—believing they had no other option than to disappear into the forest and never return.

“Yes, I'm serious,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road in the fading daylight. Of all the places in Japan to lay low, Aokigahara was one of the last where anyone would think to look. Which is precisely why he chose it.

As he turned onto a gravel road, all Sayuri could see was a thick canopy of trees consuming the sky. Sanzu took off the sunglasses and tossed them on top of the dashboard along with the black mask. Navigating the narrow path with its twists and turns was challenging enough, even without the recent rainfall adding a layer of mud.

After a good twenty minutes on the gravel road, the safe house finally came into view. Its silhouette was barely visible in the dim light as Sanzu brought the van to a stop and cut the engine.

Sayuri opened the door and stepped out, stretching her legs. The scent of moss and damp earth hung in the patchy fog that hadn't decided if it wanted to settle in yet. The forest was impossibly still and quiet—nothing else to be heard except their breathing and shuffling about.

“This is it?” Sayuri asked, her voice wavering.

Sanzu grabbed her suitcase from the back of the van and slammed the doors shut. “Yeah.”

He motioned for her to follow, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path as they made their way toward the house. The closer they got, the more Sayuri could make out—the sliding shoji doors, the narrow engawa wrapping around the side, and the small stone lantern half-hidden by overgrown grass.

And the motion sensor cameras hanging from the corners of the roof.

The interior was just as stark and quiet as the forest outside. Sliding doors separated the rooms, and the light scent of old wood lingered in the air. Sayuri’s eyes drifted over the sparse furniture—a low table in the living room, a single futon folded neatly in the bedroom, and a small kitchen with only the bare essentials.

“It’s not the Palace Hotel,” Sanzu said, setting her suitcase down by the wall. “But you'll be safe.”

Sayuri nodded, her gaze falling to the tatami mats beneath her feet. The silence was unnerving, and the exhaustion from the drive left her too tired to argue.

Sanzu glanced at her, noticing the way her shoulders sagged. “I stocked the place with food and water. There’s a first-aid kit in the kitchen if you need it. And a phone. Do not call anyone other than me, and only if it's an emergency. Got it?”

“Got it,” she murmured.

He stood there for a moment, debating whether to say more or not. Finally, he turned toward the door. “I’ll check in soon.”

Sayuri’s head shot up. “Wait—you’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. “You’ll be fine here. Just stay put.”

As the door closed behind him, the weight of the situation hit her like a hammer. She was alone, in the middle of a forest known for its ghosts and tragedies, with no one to rely on but Sanzu—and now he was gone.

The house was supposed to feel safe, but all she felt was alone.

She heard the van’s door slam shut and the engine turn over. Not but a breath later, the sound of spinning tires and a string of obscenities cut through the night. The tires spun and slipped again, and again, followed by more cursing before the van door slammed shut for the second time.

Sanzu flung the front door open and stepped back into the house. He ran a hand through his hair, drawing in a deep breath to settle himself.

“It's fucking stuck,” he said, voice thick with frustration. “Fucking stuck in the fucking mud.”

Sayuri watched him pull his shoes off, dropping them to the floor with a dull thud.

“So, you're staying?” she asked, trying to hide the relief in her voice but not doing a very convincing job of it.

Sanzu glanced at her just in time to catch the expectant look in her eyes. “Yeah. I'm staying,” he answered. “At least until tomorrow.”

There wasn't any point in fumbling around in the dark to free the van. He flopped down on a kitchen chair as exhaustion overtook him. Even if he did manage to get it unstuck, he was far too tired to make the three hour drive back to Tokyo—not without popping a couple of stimulants, which were hidden in his bedside drawer. Not much help there.

Then, it hit him. There's only one bed.

“I'll sleep in the van,” he grumbled.

Sayuri shook her head softly. “No, don't do that.”

“It's fine. I've slept in worse places.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, slouching back in the chair.

Sayuri stepped closer. “And I'm telling you. You don't have to do that,” she said.

“Well, you're definitely not sleeping out there.” No way in hell was he going to let that happen.

“I'm not,” she replied. Her voice was soft but firm, and her expression not quite readable. “And neither are you.”

Sanzu sat quietly, caught off guard. Surely, she wasn't implying that they should share the bed. After that little incident on the couch, the way she curled up on him, wearing his t-shirt and her silk panties, rubbing against him in her sleep—he couldn't handle anything like that again.

“I'll stay on my side. I promise,” Sayuri added as if reading his mind.

But it wasn't only a matter of her staying on her side of the bed. It was about being in the same bed with her. It was hard enough as it was to not give in, take her into his arms, and never let go.

She was in danger because she got too close to him. He'd already made her cry once. Even in the damn dream, past-life, whatever the hell it was, she died in his arms. He never wanted to feel that heartbreak—that guilt—that the dream always left him with.

“Come on, you're practically dead on your feet and so am I,” Sayuri said, holding her hand out to him. “Let’s go get some rest.”

Sanzu stared at her outstretched hand and her softened expression. Why is she looking after him when it's supposed to be the other way around? And why, for the life of him, can't he seem to say ‘no’ to her?

With a resigned sigh, he took her hand and stood.

Sayuri led him toward the bedroom, their fingers barely touching before Sanzu pulled his hand away, stuffing it into his pocket as if the contact had burned him. She didn’t say anything—just glanced at him over her shoulder before sliding the shoji door open.

The room was small and sparsely furnished, just like the rest of the house. A single futon lay folded in the middle of the tatami floor, along with a thick, dark blanket. The air inside was cool, laced with the scent of cedar and old paper. It should have felt peaceful, but the silence pressed down on them like a weighted blanket.

Sanzu exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. This is fine. It’s just one night. I can handle this.

Sayuri sat on the edge of the futon, pulling off her socks and rubbing at her sore calves. He watched her, noting the way her shoulders curved inward slightly, how her fingers trembled just the tiniest bit before she curled them into the soft cotton of her sleepwear.

She was exhausted.

And she’s here, alone, in his world, because of him.

He turned away, shrugging off the blue delivery jacket and tossing it onto a chair in the corner before dropping down onto the futon beside her. The mattress shifted slightly under his weight, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Sayuri was the first to break the silence. “Are you going to take the blanket?”

Sanzu scoffed, reaching down to take his socks off as well. “Do I look like I need a blanket?”

Sayuri hummed in amusement but slid under it anyway, turning onto her side, facing away from him. He followed suit, lying rigid on his back for a moment before rolling onto his side as well, their backs almost touching.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, interrupted only by the rustling of sheets as they both shifted to get comfortable.

Then, softly—so softly he almost didn’t hear it—Sayuri spoke.

“I never thanked you.”

Sanzu blinked at the bare wall, his body stiffening. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

A sharp breath escaped him. He hadn’t expected that. His fingers curled tightly against the futon, his heart giving a strange, unwanted lurch in his chest.

“What the hell are you thanking me for?” His voice came out rougher than he intended. “You’re in this mess because of me.”

The second the words left his mouth, he clenched his jaw. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Sayuri rolled over slightly, just enough that he could feel her gaze on the back of his neck.

“What do you mean?” she asked, voice quiet but laced with curiosity.

Sanzu swallowed. He’d already said too much. If he let himself keep talking, he might tell her everything.

He let out a breath as his voice dropped lower. “The less you know, the better.”

Sayuri didn’t respond right away. He could tell she was still looking at him, still waiting, but eventually, she sighed and rolled back onto her side.

Fine. Let her think whatever she wants. It didn’t change the fact that she was better off not knowing the truth.

🌸🌸🌸

Even though she knew the conversation was over, Sayuri’s mind wouldn’t stop turning.

You’re in this mess because of me.

Why would he say that?

She gripped the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. Sanzu was hiding something—he was always hiding something. But this felt… heavier.

The way he said it, the almost imperceptible crack in his voice—it wasn’t just guilt. It was something deeper.

She wanted to ask again. Wanted to push. But she knew him well enough by now to know that when he shut down like this, prying would only make him retreat further.

Sayuri sighed, closing her eyes.

Despite everything—the fear, the exhaustion, the mystery of his words—what she wanted, more than anything, was to roll over and curl into his warmth. To rest her head against his back, to feel safe.

She wanted him to hold her.

The thought alone made heat rise to her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Get it together, Sayuri. He’s not the kind of man who does things like that.

Still… the desire for it lingered.

🌸🌸🌸

Sanzu was too aware of her.

The way her breathing slowed, the tiny shifts in the futon when she moved. The warmth of her body, so close yet so far, just a few inches away.

And fuck, the way she had thanked him.

Like he was something good. Like he was something worthy of thanks.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep his eyes shut. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be near me. I should have left well enough alone, let her keep living her normal, safe life.

But she was here.

And she was his.

Not because he’d claimed her. But because fate had tied them together long before either of them existed in this lifetime.

The dreams weren’t a coincidence. The pull in his chest when she looked at him like that—like she trusted him—wasn’t a coincidence, either.

No matter how much he told himself to keep his distance, he knew.

She belonged to him.

Sanzu clenched his fists under the blanket, his jaw tight.

He could feel her shifting behind him, her breath evening out as she finally started to drift off.

And all he could think about was how fucking easy it would be to turn over, wrap his arm around her waist, and pull her close.

To bury his face in her neck, to breathe her in.

To keep her there forever.

But he didn’t move.

He swallowed down the burning ache in his chest, staring into the darkness, and waited for sleep to take him.

As the night stretched on, the only sound was the distant rustle of the trees outside.

Sayuri’s breathing had evened out, slow and steady, her body finally succumbing to exhaustion. Sanzu, however, remained awake, his mind restless, his body tense despite the fatigue weighing down on him.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

And then, without thinking, he rolled over.

She was facing him now, curled on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow. She looked different like this—softer, untouched by the stress and fear that followed her during the day. As if sleep allowed her to forget all of it.

His gaze trailed over the delicate slope of her shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket. So fucking soft. It made something in his chest twist, something dark and possessive, something he didn’t want to name.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. He could reach out, just once. Brush the stray strands of hair from her face. Feel her warmth.

But he didn’t.

He clenched his fist, restraining himself.

She’s safer this way.

That was the lie he kept telling himself.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

The reason he took her out of Tokyo. The reason he chose this place, a house in the middle of a cursed forest where no one would dare to look for her. The reason he couldn’t stop watching her, like if he took his eyes off her for even a second, she might disappear.

He wanted her here. Hidden away. Untouched by the outside world.

He wanted her where only he could reach her.

Sanzu exhaled slowly, forcing himself to look away.

It was better this way.

Even if his own thoughts were starting to betray him.

Even if, when she sighed softly in her sleep and shifted just a little closer, his entire body went rigid with the effort it took not to pull her against him.

She’s safer this way, he told himself again.

But even as the thought formed, another followed, unbidden and dark.

Safer. And mine.