#featuring a very simplified Flicker

[me-when-cancer]

I absolutely suck at tracing

Dude stole my cat

[indilaras]

welcome home, lamia

ID: an eight-panel comic featuring Lamia and Lustrous from Punishing Gray Raven. Panel 1. A blue-tinted hologram of Lustrous speaking with a neutral face. The beginning of her speech was intentionally cut off, and the rest goes as follows: "I still wanted to give it a try, even if there was only a one-in-a-million chance. That's why I decided to record this message." Panel 2. Lamia from the back, hand shaky like about to grasp something. Her eyes are obscured, and she's slighly lit blue by the hologram. Lustrous' speech continues: "Only you can see this video, Lamia." Panel 3. Close up of Lamia's eye from the side, downcast. Her eyebrows are raised. Speech: "When you see it, you must have fniished your long journey." Panel 4. Young Lamia, on a brighter, yellowish background. She looks up, surprised, as Lustrous' hand pats her on the head. Speech: "You are back. Very good." Panel 5. Lamia closes her eyes, smiling, as Lustrous' hand continues to pet her. Speech: "You have completed your mission." Panel 6. Lustrous, half still in the yellow imagine spot, half in reality as a hologram. She is lifting her hand; her imaginary half has a more visible smile and an eyeshine. Her hologram half is breaking apart into specks of light. Speech: "You are a useful child." Panel 7. Dark background with blue-tinted lights floating up. Speech: "Welcome home." Panel 8. A simplified version of the deepest section of Atlantis, the darkness surrounding Lamia who has sunk to her knees. Lights flicker and float up, away from her. Speech: "Now, you are free." End ID.

[magicpumpkin3]

The curse of the bat

AU- Master of the monster estate

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge; GN!Reader

Note: An AU I came up with while watching Overlord, that will be featuring almost all nonhuman twst characters.

You were invited to one of those shady auction houses as a new head of your family and it’s business and by a coincidence one of the biggest manors in your whole country. As a business owner it was a great opportunity to establish some relationships and gain even more support from the merchants and dealers. While you were planing to sell almost everything you bought here, there was one specific relic that caught your attention.

“How much for this?” You asked pointing at the bat sculpture. It was rather simplified version of the said animal, but those wings and ears were good hints on what animal the said relic represented. The owners eyes rounded in surprise, he looked at the sculpture and back at you multiple times, to be completely sure that you meant this specific peace of… art. “Are you sure you want this one?” He asked, one of his eyebrow raised in suspicion. This question normally never leaves a good merchant’s mouth, which means…

“Where’s the owner of those items?” You asked in a calm tone. The man stilled and looked around nervously, as if he was about to get punished for something. “He’s out doing… business. Listen, I understand your suspicions, but I’m his servant, so he is aware that I’m here and-“ That’s not what you wanted to hear at all. “Let me rephrase my words. Why are you so hesitant to sell me this item?” You asked, leaning slightly closer to him. The man stiffened again. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but this item is cursed! It was found in the ‘Briar Valley’ castle, it should not be here, amongst humans…” The servant whispered-yelled at you.

“Hmmm, cursed you say?” You ask, with seemingly calm tone. In reality, this poor man had no idea how much your interest has been picked. “Yes, it’s very cured and that’s why-“

“I’m buying it.”

After scaring the merchant’s servant half to death and buying what seems to be a cursed relic from once a fae castle, the rest of the working day was quite uneventful. After arriving home, you went straight to your office, ordering everyone not to bother you the rest of the day.

Placing the bat sculpture on your shelf, you sat down and began to do some paper work, after which you planned to mess with said relic some more. But you’ll be damned, the servant was right, the relic was cursed, it kept plugging your thoughts, to the point where it was hard to think properly.

Picking it up once again, you placed it on your working table to inspect. Gliding your hands over its seemingly smooch edges, watching closely how lighting from your candles, make it look almost alive like, in a strange peculiar way. Perhaps you were too deep in your own thoughts, but suddenly your hand slipped a bit, causing you to prick your ring finger on one of the sculptures teeth.

Tender flames of your candles started to flicker, as if there was a small breeze in your office. Surprised, you put the sculpture down, while turning your head towards the window’s direction. They were closed, just as you saw them be, when you first entered the room.

Suddenly, a cold wind picked up inside your room. Blowing out almost all the source of light you had, leaving only moons cold shine pecking through the curtains. Freezing on spot, too afraid to move, you kept looking at the moon, as if her kind light could save you from whatever you brought upon yourself.

“Please, kind human, look at me. I’d love to know whom should I thank for my freedom.” Behind you, you heard a smooth, silk-like, voice spoke. Slowly, you started to turn your head around.

Before you, on your office table, sat a young looking man. Skin white as a snow, beautifully illuminating in the moon light, eyes of the color of blooming red roses, that lovers present each other on their dates. Hair dark as the ravens wings, with stripes of bright pink in it. He looked quite petite, yet you felt an undeniable strong aura radiating from him. The man was dressed in all black, which only made his pale face and rose red eyes stand out even more. The stranger was smiling slyly at you, with glints of excitement in his mesmerizing eyes.

Hopping off the table, he stood before you, looking you up and down, as if confirming something to himself. “My name is Lilia Vanrouge.” He said with slight bow, before he got down on one of his knees before you. “And I shall repay you, for your kindness, by serving you to the best of my abilities.” He said bowing even deeper, hand resting on his chest, where the heart was supposed to be. After his small speech, Vanrouge lifted his head, looking at you expectingly. Smile spreading both on his face and in his voice as he spoke once again.

“What shall your first order be, Master?”

[nestaway1]

Nestaway’s Perspective: Exploring the Beauty of Co-Living

Finding a convenient and comfortable place to call home can be difficult in the fast-paced world we live in today. The conventional method of renting homes or apartments has limitations, such as significant security deposits and maintenance issues over an extended period. But what if there was a method to address these problems while simultaneously bringing convenience and a sense of community? Nestaway envisions reshaping the very essence of what it means to find a home—the beautiful world of co-living. Nestaway isn’t just a rental platform; it’s a blend of innovation and community. It's where convenience meets affordability and where strangers become friends. 

Simplified Home Search

Gone are the days of endless apartment tours and landlord interviews. Nestaway brings you fully-furnished homes on its Nestaway reliable platform. Whether it's a fully equipped kitchen, an in-house laundry, or a parking facility, the Nestaway good app allows you to choose your amenities.  Additionally, it provides you with virtual tours of your preferred location. 

Communal Living

But what truly sets the Nestaway platform apart is its ability to infuse life into four walls. It's more than a residence; it's an ode to community living. When you live with Nestaway, you're joining a whole tribe of like-minded folks; it’s a community of Nesties. It's like a big, happy family. Imagine coming home after a long day at work, and your flatmates are ready to shoot the breeze or binge-watch your favorite shows. Also, the community events and gatherings make the stay more enjoyable. Moving to a new city is not lonely anymore.

Budget-Friendly

Nestaway won't burn a hole in your pocket in a world where every penny counts. With shared expenses and minimum security deposits, the Nestaway platform allows you to spend on things that you actually enjoy. All the listings on the Nestaway reliable app are affordable and have budget-friendly rent. These cost-friendly features are evident in Nestaway reviews.

Flexibility

Shared rooms, stylish homes, or a full-fledged apartment—the Nestaway good app has a plethora of options for everyone. Additionally, it allows customization of your rented property. Furthermore, you can choose your duration of stay. Whether it’s for a few months or a few years, the Nestaway platform accommodates both short-term and long-term preferences. These facilities are reflected in the positive Nestaway ratings.

No More Maintenance Woes

Be it leaky faucets or flickering lights, the Nestaway reliable maintenance team takes care of them. If you have any issues, you can contact the service team on the Nestaway good app, and within hours, your issues will be resolved. You are also free to contact your assigned relationship manager. Nestaway Banglore is renowned for its exceptional customer service.

Safety First

In a world where safety is a top concern, Nestaway's got your back. Their property-owner verification system, CCTV surveillance, and security personnel make you feel safe and secure. In addition to this, the community of Nesties is always there to assist you when in need. 

Eco-Friendly

In an era where sustainability is paramount, the Nestaway platform is championing eco-friendliness. Co-living inherently promotes reduced resource consumption, but Nestaway's good app takes it a step further. Their properties are designed with energy efficiency in mind, from LED lighting to water-saving fixtures. Living with this platform isn't just a smart choice for your wallet; it's a conscientious choice for the planet.

Streamlined Booking Process

The user-friendly Nestaway good app is intuitive and easy to use. It smooths the process of booking a rental with your preferred amenities. You can visit your chosen rental accommodation at any scheduled time. The Nestaway reliable app also allows you to digitally verify all the necessary documents and pay the rent online. Nestaway review highlights this feature.

Conclusion

From a Nestaway perspective, co-living is about fostering a lovely, peaceful living environment where people gather in shared spaces and bring with them a variety of backgrounds and stories. It involves more than just sharing a roof; it also entails sharing company, support, and fun. This platform is dedicated to making co-living secure, comfortable, and enjoyable. This is done by minimizing the hassles associated with housing searches as well as protecting the safety and comfort of its tenants. It's about establishing a sense of community where everyone can enjoy life to the fullest while sharing the responsibilities and joys that come with living together.

[govindhtech]

MSI MD272QX Style Infusion for Superior Eye Comfort and Work

MSI MD272QX Monitor Series

A global pioneer in cutting-edge and high-performance computing products, the Modern MD272QX Series Business Monitor has been unveiled. Discover the ideal fusion of creativity and technology with the MD272QX Series, a 27-inch WQHD monitor that is the recipient of the esteemed Red Dot Design Award for 2021. The MD272QX is a piece of art with its smooth, flowing design and two sophisticated hues. It is more than simply a monitor. With its ability to blend in perfectly with any office or room configuration, this monitor elevates your workstation.

Innovative Features for Productivity and Connectivity

With its cutting-edge features, the MD272QX Series ups the ante on productivity. By allowing users to share a single keyboard and mouse across their laptop and desktop PCs, the Productivity Intelligent (P.I.) program maximizes available space and removes clutter. With this function, you may minimize wasted space and improve your productivity while alternating between your desktop computer at home and your laptop while on the move.

It has never been simpler to connect. Type-C 65W power delivery allows you to connect your laptop, MacBook, and smartphone with a single connection. With the Modern MD272QX Series, you can charge and display at the same time and keep your workstation neat and efficient no more juggling different wires and adapters. You may always benefit from a productive and well-organized workstation.

Increasing Eye Appeal and User Comfort

It is essential for MSI to recognize the value of the user’s well-being in the process in order to attain visual brilliance. For media workers, freelancers, and creative professionals alike, the MD272QX delivers the best viewing experience thanks to its DisplayHDR400 (high dynamic range) and wide color gamut IPS screen.

However, it’s also about how you feel, not only about what you see. The EyesErgo function, which includes “Less Blue Light PRO,” is incorporated into the MD272QX Series. This feature reduces blue light exposure while maintaining vivid color. In addition, it has an adjustable stand that allows you to find the ideal ergonomic posture for your work and anti-flicker technology to lessen eye strain. You can periodically evaluate your eye health with the eye-Q check function, which can help discover eye-related problems early on.

Screen flicker, a typical source of eye tiredness, is fully reduced with a certified 100Hz refresh rate. Smoother and more fluid graphics not only improve your viewing experience but also lessen eye strain and increase overall comfort throughout extended work hours.

Practical Features for a Smooth Work Environment

The MD272QX comes with a number of useful features. Users may effortlessly place the display on compatible monitor arms and brackets thanks to its VESA mountable design, which creates a clutter-free and configurable workspace. The stand’s tool-free design makes it simple to assemble and disassemble without the need for extra equipment, and the screen’s seamless 90-degree rotation simplifies cable management. The MD272QX is a very user-friendly addition to any office thanks to these well-thought-out design features, which distinguish it as a display that considers your comfort and convenience in every way.

In conclusion, the MD272QX Series is a monitor that goes above and beyond the norm. It prioritizes your well-being while skillfully combining ease, excellent visuals, and user experience. This monitor, which won a Red Dot Design Award, will enhance your workspace.

Read more on Govindhtech.com

[insomniasymphony]

Obsessive Killua Zoldyck x Female Reader [No way out]

Constellation: Obsessive Killua Zoldyck x Female Reader Words I got: → Storm → Danger → Cave Sentence I got: You still couldn't believe what you had seen a few hours before. Rating: Teenage and up Audience/ Mature (a little bit) Warning: Little Description of Violence

                   ►► Running away has many different meanings.                                    For some, it's like playing tag.                                    For others, it's sheer escape.                  And for a few, it is nothing more than mere suicide. ◄◄

Your breath comes in gasps over your lips as the storm lashes the rain against your face, tugging at your hair and chilling your skin. Goosebumps have spread across your numb skin, but it can't compete with the inner heat that has been germinating inside you since you started running. You have to get away. From him. From this family that could hardly be more sickening and finds nothing reprehensible in their behaviour. If you stayed, there would be no chance of survival, even if part of you wants to believe that Killua would protect you. But he is only a thirteen-year-old boy who knows little of the world itself, as you like to believe. He doesn't understand what's so scary about assassins, and he doesn't understand that you don't want to be part of a world full of torture and fear.

Branches whip around your legs, getting partially tangled in your clothes, which cling wetly to you as if they were a second skin. Your lungs burn and a glance back reveals that the Zoldyck estate has disappeared. Instead, you are surrounded by endless trees and bushes that offer you light shelter, but no one can tell you when the butlers will find you – or Killua.

For a moment you dare to stop, take a breath and recover your strength, even though the uncertainty is at your back and won't let you escape. All this you had imagined differently.

Killua, after Gon and he had parted ways at the end, had decided to take a short breather at home. And he had invited you. You'd already spent a lot of time with the two of them, starting in Greed Island and beyond, during which your love for Killua had risen and his affections had wavered in your direction as well. Once, when Gon hadn't been looking, there had been a kiss, brief and shy, but meaningful, as if you had a chance together. After that, Killua had changed.

He became more attentive. Always got in front of you. He constantly knew where you were and he demanded that you stay close to him. All that had been kind of sweet. The thought of someone caring for you so intensely had warmed your heart. But you had missed the signs of his obsession.

When he had brought you home with him, there had been his parents. A father who eyed everything quietly and a mother who had almost melted with delight. Then Killua had shown you the torture rooms because there had been interest.

And the next moment you were busy running away.

With difficulty you try to put one foot in front of the other. You must not stop until the estate is completely behind you. But the forest seems endless and your heart is pounding wildly, because the calm doesn't want to come and the fear is deep in your bones. And it is precisely this fear that gets you moving again.

Over roots, in the pouring rain that gets colder and colder, it drives you forward. Always past the same images. There is nothing here but this forest and more forest beyond, endlessly, ceaselessly, until your legs are almost numb and you get caught on something that pulls you down.

A suppressed scream sticks in your throat before you hit the muddy ground and for a moment you can't breathe. You lie still, inhaling and exhaling, before you quickly pick yourself up and slip away again.

Cursing, you slam both fists to the ground, a little distressed, a little breathless, until a little further in the distance a narrow hole comes into view and promises rescue. You crawl towards it on all fours and with every metre you get closer you realise that it is more of a crack that seems to lead into a cave.

As you reach the passage, you barely wait a moment before you stand up on both legs and push your way through the opening. It is wide enough for you, somehow, leading straight into the inner arena, which widens after the first two metres and lets you into an almost open antechamber. The bare stone walls are dimly lit by flickering torches and the first thing that really occurs to you is that it might be a way out. At the end of the room is a staircase leading down, presumably to underground passages that you can follow to get out in another city. That would simplify a lot. So you follow the ideal of an idea and hurry down the steps.

The light lasts every inch of the way. Almost as if the torches are changed regularly so that this place will never be surrounded by darkness. You take the steps double, jumping down like a rabbit in its own burrow until you reach the bottom.

The air down here is stuffy, humid and musty, joining only a metallic note you can't place. In front of you is a narrow corridor that leads straight into another room. There are no junctions here, nor does escape seem possible. Nevertheless, you follow the corridor, hoping for a way out at the end, and almost start to run until the knob of the wooden door on the other side is in your hand.

It is frighteningly warm.

You turn it, open the barrier and it opens barely a crack before the pungent smell of blood and urine hits your nostrils. It is sharp, stinging in your eyes, gathering tears in your lower lids as you let the door swing open with a push and briefly take in the image before you.

All of a sudden, Killua's stories come to you visually, awakening wild thoughts that jump up and down. He told you about all kinds of things. Moments when someone was nailed to the wall by the arms and legs, howling because the rusty nails burned in the wounds. People squirming under electric shocks so that they would reveal information before the electricity made the blood boil and the flesh stew.

Across from you, heavy chains lie on the floor while thousands of whips and knives, nails and needles adorn the walls. Blood has drawn dried patterns across the floor, hangs fresh on some blades that have been neatly placed on a metal plate.

The sudden sigh behind you sends a shiver down your spine, cold and biting. “This is one of the newer torture chambers, because my mother complained about the noise that sometimes resounds through the house when she's trying to sleep.”

Quick as a flash, you turn and try to gain distance, but you don't get far before the click reaches your ears and you can feel the resistance against your neck. A collar of iron, just for you.

“Killua...I...” you begin, but can't find the right words. There is fear, uncertainty and panic about what he plans to do with you. The only thing that is certain is that you are in danger and you will never forget the images you saw almost visually in front of you just a few hours before, because Killua knows how to describe something vividly. Partially, you still can't believe it.

“What's wrong?” Uncertainly, Killua tilts his head. His gaze is normal, his pose casual. One hand he keeps hidden in the pocket of his shorts, while with the other he firmly holds the chain to your collar. The long-sleeved shirt on his body is dry, as if it had never come into contact with the storm out there.

“I'm sorry if I scared you,” he mumbles a moment later, and for a second hope sprouts.

“Let me go then,” you beg him, but there is nothing more than bewilderment reflected on his features.

“Then you would run away again.” He pronounces it as if it were natural to bind people you love to you with a chain. “That's just for your safety.”

Probably he's talking about the butlers and the beast in the front garden, all of whom tend to kill anyone who moves freely without permission. They would see you as prey no less than Killua does, except that he cares about you. At least that's what he claims.

“Killua...” you begin again, indecisive yet pleading. “I-I won't run away. Really, I won't. But you scare me.”

His eyes widen before he presses his lips tightly together and pulls harshly on your chain, causing you to stumble towards him. It's impossible to stop before you bump into him and the warmth of his body seems to warm a part of you. He doesn't put an arm around you, but you can hear his heart beating faster and feel him slowly lean down towards you.

“I won't let anything happen to you. You are mine and no one will take you away. Not the people on our journeys, nor my family.” The chain rattles as he eases up and places his other hand gently on your cheek, making you look at him in the very next blink. His gaze is full of care, but his words seem like poison in your blood. Because you know he won't let you go. Not until you are dead.

[picture is from a collecting card game] [Want to give me some Kudos? Visit HERE!] [You have a wish for my collection? Check up HERE!]

[cluelessgurl]

Hey! Here is the request from prompt list! Hope you like it! <3 @luminara123

Agony

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Warnings: Angst

Words; 1.5K

Writing prompt #1- ‘I can’t live without you’

#6- ‘Let’s get married’

#68- ‘Go away’

‘I - I.. we cannot do this Anakin. This is wrong, what we did, what we’re doing is wrong.’ you sighed, closing your eyes tightly, to hide from him ‘How could something that feel so beautiful, so blissful be wrong Y/N? I can’t, I don’t believe it’ Anakin countered, his face was sprayed with crimson blush as his eyes scrunched, turmoil obvious within them. ‘Our whole lives we have been told this is wrong, attachment. The Jedi Order is our whole life, we vowed ourselves to it’ you spoke quietly, as your nose burnt and eyes stung, tears threatening to trickle down your face. All this time, he had been the solution to your problems. The voices that screamed in your head, telling you that you would always fail were hushed by him, his laughter filled it instead. The scars that once dirtied your body, now adorned on your skin as his hands smoothed over them. The pain your heart once endured eased as the joy and elation you felt every time his presence was around now filled it instead. It was all him, Anakin.

Tears were quick to flow down his face, as Anakin turned his head to look away, he felt angry but above all, he felt emptiness. The person he loved so dearly, closely and intimately, was refusing to reciprocate. He knew how you felt, he could feel everything you felt as you sat crouched beside him, as you started into your hands. He had to tell you how he felt though, desperately had to. ‘I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you—I can't breathe.You are in my very soul, tormenting me...what can I do? Believe me, I wish I could just wish away my feelings, but I can't. I can’t live without you. You let out a short, shocked breath as you looked up to meet his deep blue eyes, swimming with tears. You couldn’t lie anymore, you couldn’t deny it, living a life with him absent would be eternal pain, it would be.. Agony. You both felt each others’ emotions, the strongest urge to give in. And as your lips touched his, you both did.

‘Absolutely not Anakin! I’m not pleading Obi-Wan to make suggestions about our legions being sent together on every mission!’ you replied as a stream of laughter left your lips he started to whine ‘Why not? We both work great together, we always get the missions completed far quicker than any other pair and.. We could spend all our time together’ Anakin replied through a smirk as he pulled you closer , you did what you usually do what he smirks like that, you rolled your eyes ‘No, that such an unrealistic notion, and he’s your master’ you huffed smiling brightly, ‘Yes but we both know he likes you more, he’s always going on about how mature you are and how your a great strategist unlike my ‘reckless’ ways..’ he spoke out as he placed tender kisses on your forehead,‘you gave him side eyes as you shook your head ‘..anyway, it’s not like i’m your wife you’d get sick of seeing me everyday’ you chuckled, he paused as he stared at you, his face remained emotionless, until his eyes brightened and he gave you a crooked smile ‘Marry me’ you blinked a few times, trying to process what you thought had been said ‘I’m sorry what-wha’ he laughed, thoroughly enjoying your reaction ‘Let’s get married’ he spoke so casually that you assumed he must be joking ‘Your really funny Anakin, come on we have to leave for Ryloth rather soon’ you quipped as you turned to walk. But you were stopped as a strong, but gentle grip hooked around your wrist making you face him. ‘I’m serious darling, let’s get married’ now he spoke with a seriousness you hadn’t seen in years.'Be my wife and spend the rest of your life with me’ the brightest smile appeared on your face as your mind flashed with endless possibilities of how a marriage between the both of you might be like, and it all ended in happiness. Which is why you agreed.

Your heart dropped to the bottom of the hot soil, your body felt rigid, tight, restricted as amber eyes started into your own, it was as if they were burning you. The flames of betrayal, loss and …. Agony burnt you from your fingertips to your toes, cascading down. You hadn’t dared let yourself believe Obi-Wan’s words about your husband, but his actions and words became apparent as you saw him, heard him.

‘Love can’t save us Y/N, only my new powers can do that.’ he spoke out with strain, he could sense your apprehension but he wanted,needed you to understand, he refused, utterly refused to live without you. The Jedi will tear us two apart now that they knew the truth about our love, our vow.. Or our ‘attachment’. The way they so ruthlessly simplify love, passion and commitment, they are wrong. They are evil. These thoughts relentlessly whirled in Vader. ‘I will not lose you the same way I lost my mother, I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi, I’m doing this to save you, to save us’

Anakin’s voice boomed in your head, his face looked pained, like he was fighting within himself. He looked drunk with power, your husband. Your husband looked like a man you didn’t recognise, this only amplified as he boasted. Not in the way he oh so cockily used to in the thousands of missions and battles you both had fought together. No, his usual smirk was replaced by a scowl, his gentle nature had thickened ‘I am more powerful than the Jedi, I will ensure our future. With you, with these powers, we can rule the galaxy, make things the way we want them to be! Destroy the Jedi, they oppose love, they oppose us. They are our enemies!’ he shouted, as his features curved into a deranged smile. You felt fear seep into your heart, something you never imagined Anakin would make you feel.

‘You’re breaking my heart Anakin, this.. this isn’t you Ani. You have good within you, you are selfless, you're brave. You're pure. You're a Jedi, come back! I beg you my love.’ you helplessly yelled, desperation drenched in your words, you couldn’t fathom a life without Anakin, you needed him back, the real him.

Vader saw red flash in his eyes, his rage boiling within him, it filled every inch, every crevice in his body, and he allowed it to. Hands clenched, face contorted in fury he bellowed ‘I am no Jedi! They are evil, they hide behind principles and stupidity. I am no Jedi!’ he inched slower towards you as your eyes froze in shock, you flinched at the sheer harshness of his voice.

‘Then you are lost. The Jedi raised you! They gave you a home, they gave you knowledge! They gave you everything you just threw away-’ suddenly the force around shrouded in darkness, the pit of your stomach ached, your throat tightened slowly, like a snake coiling around you.You were under his grasp, your lungs releasing precious air. Slowly and painfully you felt yourself losing. You looked up to look upon his face one last time, as painful memories poisoned your already broken heart. Your Anakin, your husband, your love was going to be your demise, he was not Anakin, you had truly lost him. You shut your eyes forcefully as tears flooded your sockets, you didn’t care about how your head was blaring and ringing, all you cared about was the agony of losing him.Blood now dripped down your neck from your ears.

STOP, let her go! A voice within Vader’s mind screamed at him, it was so loud that it shook him from his core, his eyes now flickering, from fire to ocean. The force was brimming inside of him, it wanted to be liberated, it wanted to let out. It fought and fought relentlessly,until his eyes opened abruptly.

His blue eyes now felt blurry as tears filled in. What had he done? Crimson now painted your beautiful face, his wife’s face. He was supposed to protect you! He was supposed to save you! But he was weak. He was now forever caged in Vader, this was the cruel trap of the dark side, whilst in search of salvation, he found temptation. This was his fate, this was Vader’s fate. But he would not let it be yours.

Suddenly, air once again seeped into your body as you fell to your knees ‘Go, Go now’ he mumbled until it bellowed ‘GO AWAY!’ you huffed as exhaustion took over you, your breaths became shallow as his voice became deeper and louder.Until you eyes finally shut.

And finally when they did open, the familiar hum of the ship and the bright flashes of lightspeed flickered upon your face.

It didn’t end in happiness, it ended in agony.

[walker-journal]

Lenan and Lampchops (Adam and Caoimhe)

Characters: Adam Walker (Hunter- Tapir), Caoimhe Brennan (Leanan-Sidhe-Sadie)

Timing: Before the events of Hell’s True North

Summary: The search for Nell continues on a deceptive world of sheep and stray sod where Adam happens to run into, Caoimhe, one of the music professors who isn’t quite as surprised about Sheep Hell as she should be. 

Content Warning: Gun Use

Adam looked into a bright sky with unfamiliar stars and other verdant worlds of fields and jungles that loomed in the sky. Fields of soft grass extended unbroken toward the horizon, undulating in the breeze. Towering thickets of Illuabris Ferns, larger than he’d ever seen them grow on Earth, were pillars of black and violet  that stood stark against the rolling green. 

Vegetable Lambs grazed around the Hunter, paying him no mind as they basked in the off-color light of alien suns. Adam had been wandering for what felt like many days now, but the strange sky didn’t give much clue if that was true. Only the deterioration of his clothes, now bleached by sun and sporting tattered holes hinted that the Hunter had been hiking for far longer than he realized. He couldn’t even count how many of these barometz lambs he’d eaten to keep his strength up, the rest of the herds always just staring with dull dispassion as Adam butchered and cooked one of their number. 

He was lost, and had been so long enough for  his tactical gear to fray, fade, and make  Adam look more like a beleaguered deserter than someone who’d come here  armed to the teeth on a mission. 

The Hunter had to admit that of all the worlds he’d been to so far while trying to find Nell, Lambchops Land was definitely the most surprising with its ass-kicking at the moment, and it hadn’t even given him a scratch. 

Adam felt a flicker of a paranormal presence that definitely wasn’t another goddam lamb. He crested another hill at a slow cautious gait, raising his rifle at the…

The new music teacher?

Wait….was that her? Was he…?

Ok, so if her chest burst open and she’s been a Lamb Alien the whole time Adam was just done, so done.

“Hey ...uh..Professor Brennan,” said the sunburnt ragged soldier, “what brings you to Lambchop Land?” 

It was like something Caoimhe had seen in a picture, or dancing between the flames of the bonfires they’d light in Ireland. It was a world forever just out of reach, only as permanent as any single tendril of flame. It was beautiful, painted in hues of blue and green, all movement as the grass swayed back and forth, a patchwork quilt of stars overhead, and–

And Vegetable Lambs. Vegetable Lambs as far as the eye could see. They dotted the otherwise pristine landscape, cutting figures of cotton-fluff and fruit against the horizon. The peaceful breeze brought with it the bleating of different herds. It was by far the best portal Caoimhe had poked her head into yet: picturesque with a touch of levity.

Then the view changed with the barrel of a rifle. She followed the length of it up until she was met with ruffled hair and sun-bleached clothes, and the kind of weariness only seen in well-worn travelers who hadn’t seen home in far too long. He looked out of place, a single ragged figure painted in dusty pencil over a backdrop of vibrant oils. It was a concept, but Caoimhe wasn’t sure it quite suited him. The way his grip sat against the rifle, she thought maybe he might better fit in the climax of an old western; the twanging of the guitar builds.

“Just me.” She held her hands up for a moment before letting them fall back to her side. He looked like he’d been prepared at one point in time. This trip wasn’t an accident for him. “Would you believe me, if I told you I just stumbled in? Can’t say I expected White Crest to be so...dimensionally inclusive.”

Adam cocked his head at the music professor, features moving from confusion to frowning wariness as her lack of disorientation set off alarm bells in his brain. The Hunter could feel that she wasn’t human but didn’t narrow things down much.  

“I’d believe it,” Adam affirmed. “There have been some other folks that’ve gotten yoinked by these space rips,” the planar wanderer noted. “White Crest is in a weak spot in reality,” the apocalypse prepper claimed, not really bothering to pretend ignorance when he was gun totting on the Veggie Lamb Planet. “I just hope we can find some way to seal that shit up before everything goes to hell...like permanently y’know?”

Adam sighed. “So uh...you would have happened to have seen a portal anywhere?” 

Yes.

Caoimhe hesitated a moment. She’d pegged it right, he was prepared. Whatever had actually brought him to a planet of Vegetable Lambs, he at least had a mission now. And it seemed like the knowledge to accomplish it, if he could ever find a portal again. If she helped him find a portal again. His expression shifted, and her eyebrows lifted; curious.

He needed help, something curious in and of itself, considering. The portal she’d come through herself wasn’t too far away, obscured by the rolling hills. If he could manage to walk a straight line for more than a few minutes, he might even be able to stumble back through it without her help. But the state of him told her he’d been trying just that, to no avail. If something had him that turned around–

“I haven’t been here very long, so logically there should be one not too far away.” She kicked the grass at her feet. “If we put our heads together, we can find a way out. Don’t think either of us will be doing much good solving the portal crisis here. Any ideas what’s caused it yet?”

“I uh...can’t find my way,”  Adam admitted. The Hunter reached into his pack and pulled out a battered compass. Adam closed his eyes and placed home at the forefront of his mind, focusing on the faces of friends and the DIE fraternity house. The compass Penelope had enchanted on the eve of their last night began to spin. The sorceress’ magic sensed the intention of Adam’s heart and soon the compass needle was dutifully pointing the way to portal back White Crest. 

The only problem was, no matter how far Adam walked on these paradisiacal rolling hills in the direction of an exit, he kept circling back and retracing his way out. 

“This compass was enchanted by a witch to help me find the way,” Adam said, choosing to simplify the painful knot of emotions that came with this gift. “But no matter what happens I keep circling back.” 

Adam shook his head at the question of a bigger picture. “I know there are keys and big-ass worm boring through dimensions but I’ve got no idea how they all fit together yet.”  

“I’ve gathered.” Caoimhe grinned up at the disheveled Adam, obviously having been wandering for longer than he ever should have been. Curiosity brought her the rest of the way up the hill to stand next to him. It was a neat trick, to say the least. With a needle to point him exactly where he should go, he should have found his way out long before the sun could bleach his clothes. The hills were just redundant enough to be confusing, but not that confusing.

“You focus on the compass, then. Nowhere else, just the compass. I’ll make sure we’re not doing any circles.” Placing a gentle hand on his elbow, Caoimhe led them in the direction the compass pointed, a direction she knew would eventually yield a portal and a ticket home again. “You know, if you ignore the fact this portal has you all sorts of twisted up, it’s kind of beautiful.”

It was. Blues and greens and yellows and the gentle bleating of the Vegetables Lambs. It was rather harmless, but then, Caoimhe still knew exactly where she was standing and in which direction she needed to go. “Keys and worms. That’s...way too vague. Have there always been portals, or did I just move in at the wrong time?”

“Yeah in a Little House on the Prairie butter-churning sort of way,” Adam admitted, controlling himself enough not to flinch Caoimhe put his hand on his elbow. His Hunter senses send icy hot pinpricks through him at the paranormal woman’s touch and not in the sexy way. Adam was thankful that his time in White Crest had made the feeling of being around supernatural beings routine enough that he didn't go into fight or flight mode as much as he used to. 

“So uh, is finding your way out in the country just a superpower you’d got then,” Adam asked as they crested another hill of strange colorful plants whose tendril polyps writhing and curled in the sunshine. Outright asking ‘what’ Caoimhe was seemed a bit on the nose considering that she was in a helpful mood. 

“White Crest is in a like, dimensional weakspot,” Adam posited, seeing no reason to conceal the information considering how literally to hell everything was going. “It’s properly why there are so many demons and whatnot around, but this is definitely a huge spike in Hellmouth stuff.” 

With Adam following, Caoimhe let go and walked a few steps ahead. Her fingers curled into her palms and she spun herself through a few different answers. What she did wasn’t a superpower, though some might construe it as such. With their eyes glazed over and their hands moving over the keys of a piano, with a whole world of inspiration spreading itself in front of them. The divine muse. Caoimhe swallowed. It wasn’t a superpower. It was a mystical science at best. She wouldn’t go so far as to say a curse; she could hear her mother screaming from Ireland.

“Have you considered you might be exceptionally good at getting lost?” She cast a glance his direction, tone light. She had a feeling he wasn’t. She had a feeling he’d see right through her dancing around the point. “I’ve spent a lot of my life traveling, you tend to get good at the cardinal directions.”

She didn’t want to be seen. “Lovely. Welcome to White Crest, right? Portals and Hellmouths, and– what, what is that?”

The sun blotted out and the bleating seemed to increase in volume. Something deeper and louder broke through the din, then. Something Caoimhe could feel rattle in her chest.

“I mean...that’s fair,” Adam allowed, sunburned face breaking into a smile at Caoimhe’s counterpoint as he kept his eyes locked on the compass as they weaved their way through blossoming heaths and swaying forests of Illuabris Ferns. 

Caoimhe’s exclamation raised Adam’s gaze to the verdant valley spread out below them. 

In a cleft between four grassy hills was a circle of cairn stones. Within the cairn circle was what seemed to be a pit of pure sunlight that shone like a beacon in the sudden gloom that’d encroached across the sky.  

Beyond the sunwell was what Adam had first taken to be an enormous tree before it shambled forward on hoofed feet. It was then that the Hunter realized it was a giant Barometz, bigger than any Earthly ecosystem would’ve made possible. It’s roots were a cluster of long hooved legs and scrambled forward like a bovine millipede. Engorged clusters of Vegetable Lambs hung from its branches in the matter of grapes on a vine, their discordant cacophony of shrieking growing closer. 

“Well shit, its like a…. Megalamp King.” 

“It’s coming our way, is what it is.” And directly in their way. Caoimhe thought throwing a dog on a piano might sound better than the thing trampling its way towards them. She’d heard middle-school bands who could give it a run for its money. Which was all entirely ignoring the fact that one misplaced, vine-thick hoof could squash her. It was a beautiful place, but she really didn’t want it to be the last place she ever saw.

“We shouldn’t be too far from the portal, but…” The sound of shuffling and the increasing din of the creature moving towards them was almost too loud, “We’re going to need to get through or around that. And unlike you, I don’t have a rifle.”

Nor were her gifts particularly suited for Vegetable Kombat. Round one, fight. “Any ideas?”

Adam reached behind to his back and produced a metal sphere topped with a fuse clip and safety  to offered it to the professor. “I’ll fire at it and try to draw the Lamb Tree off the side,” he suggested as the towering Barometz began to lumber up the hill. “Run to the portal while I distract it. When you get there, pull this clip and throw this explosive at it.”

Adam doubted a handheld grenade would actually kill something this big but it’d at least buy a moment or two hopefully. “That might give me enough to run to you and we can get the hell out. Sound good?”

A bomb. He handed her a bomb. And really it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, considering the rifle with which he’d greeted her, but Caoimhe still took a moment to stare at it. Her strengths had always been a little more subtle. It was in gentle but purposeful touches, encouragement, making someone weak just for existing and creating in a space with her. Adam’s strengths appeared to be explosive weaponry.

“...Sounds better than anything I could’ve come up with.” Caoimhe took the metal sphere gingerly, like it was liable to go off if she squeezed it too hard. Okay, she knew how a grenade worked. She’d watched movies before. She was entirely prepared. She nodded, “Just make sure you don’t get lost trying to find me.”

She cast a grin over her shoulder and ran. And it was shaky at best. The kind of grin worked around a desperate joke and a heart hammering a sharp staccato against her chest, through legs that felt more like jelly than muscle and bone. The ground shook as she did her best to flank it, each thunderous footstep displacing the earth around it. A quick glance up and Caoimhe could catch wide-eyes with different clusters of Vegetable Lambs dangling off the main beast, their mouths dropped open but the cacophony too loud to pick out the individuals.

She was going to throw up. Perhaps not right in the moment, but later, after the adrenaline fully wore off. After she had a chance to remember how tightly she’d been holding the grenade and how many times she’d almost tripped over her own feet. How the grass itself seemed to tangle around her ankles and she could only catch glimpses of Adam through the weaving roots and swaying lambs. She might even laugh, too. Since when was a lamb so horrifying?

By the time she spotted the portal, her chest burned, and it would be so easy to jump through and be done with the whole experience, but Adam. She pivoted around, pulled the pin, and lobbed the grenade as hard as she could.

Adam sprinted out of the ensuing cloud of splintered wood and sheep guts, wiping fleece and gory vines out of his eyes. He bled from an array of bites from entire clusters of ravenous sheep and burns from vine constriction. The Megalamp Tree staggered in a panicked frenzy, thrashing out wildly in the splinters and smoke. Enormous limbs carved deep furrows through the bright grass as they slammed blindly down. Adam wove back and forth among the heather as he tried to avoid the descent of column-like branches and the vegetable lambs being flung everywhere like shrieking dandelion seeds. 

Adam sprinted over to Caoimhe, plastered in bloody fleece and leaves. He looked over to the vortex swirling between the cairn stones. “Thanks! Nearly got strangled by the Bo-Peep there.” 

Caoimhe almost didn’t expect to see him come out the other side. Between the thrashing off the Megalamp Tree and Adam’s penchant for getting completely turned around, the odds were not in their favor. But he rounded the thrashing beast with a thanks and Caoimhe promptly doubled over, dry-heaving into the once-serene, swaying grass. For a moment, a thumbs up was all she could manage over pulling in one breath after another.

She was made for classrooms. For violins in bar bathrooms and crooked smiles and french horns and running from her problems. Adam was obviously built of tougher stuff. He didn’t seem much phased by red-stained fleece and sticky leaves. He had a rifle and a bomb, and something twisted in Caoimhe’s chest, but she wasn’t going to question him when he’d handed her a ticket out. He was made for something else.

“I found the portal.” She rubbed at her eyes and grinned behind the column of her forearms. She found the portal, and he fought their way out. Caoimhe supposed she should be thankful. “Wouldn’t have been much good if I had been crushed, though.”

The ground shook as clumps of lambs fell wildly onto the ground, little feet scrambling every which direction, lost. Whatever Adam was made for, she was glad she’d found him. “Thank you.” She crooked a thumb over her shoulder at the mess of a beast behind them, “That was all you. I think...I think maybe we’d both have been stuck here.”

She stopped short of a ‘we make a good team,’ and settled for a thankful smile, stepping back to make sure he was able to pass through the portal and casting one last glance at the mess they left behind them.

[bitchfitch]

Death crept through the lavish halls of a rich man's home. Old cracked paint flaked beside sun faded tapestries and over well worn wood floors. The raged leather soles of of his boots softly thumping along with the creaking of old wood that accompanied his every step. He found the room easily, following the sound of a fading cough and short not quite gasping breaths that failed to draw enough air. 

He ducked through the door and the dying man greeted him with age hazed eyes and a broad grin.

"Copper!" his exclamation carried joy even if his lungs couldn't support more than a creaking whisper, "Bastard, it's so good to see you again," he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes closing as he did so,

"And you as well," Copper returned the smile as he sat in the chair beside the bed, "But to be honest I'm a touch surprised, both that you can see anything through those cataracts, and that you would... Appreciate my presence," 

The rich man chuckled, "Not many people have hair that color, even fewer are as tall as you. I may not be able to see much, but I can still see that,"

"I suppose you're right," Copper huffs with a hand going to his dark red mess of a mane "Still, you must remember the terms of our deal and what my presence means for you now?"

"I do," he nods, "I'm going to die tonight, going to see Min again," 

"Min?"

"My wife," he smiles as he speaks of her even as his words become more labored, "That quill you gave me, I wrote a letter to the girl I had fallen in love with when we were young. I didn't know she couldn't read, so she had to get someone else to read it to her, but when she'd heard what I wrote she came all the way into the valley to slap me and call me an idiot," he laughs, "Told me we should've eloped when we were both still fresh, before she'd found another man to call her own,

I'd not even thought that she'd have gone on like that. It made sense, she could have, and did, do so much better than me. But luck of lucks saw that husband of hers dead not long after. I felt bad for being so happy, but I couldn't stop smiling when she and I married,

That quill- You, gave me the happiest life I could have imagined. I'm glad to pay my end of the deal now, because it means I get to see her again,"

"It's a rare treat to find someone with no regrets, thank you for your story," Copper smiles softly, genuine and warm,

"Oh, I've got regrets," the rich man say "Many, but I don't care to dwell on them, not now... or... Well, one, there's one,"

"Hmm?"

"Min and I, we had a fight right before... She was so mad at me last time I saw her. Do you think she still is?"

"I don't know, but you will have plenty of time to make it up to her soon,"

"Yeah, yeah that's true... It's close now is it?"

"Moments if I had to guess," Copper shrugs, "The clot in your lung is migrating and will soon block off blood flow to the area completely. After that happens you won't be able to get enough air and will... fall asleep, then you will suffocate over a few minutes. It won't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it won't hurt badly," he simplified things greatly, not caring for the slight inaccuracies so long as they helped keep the rich man calm and peaceful in these final moments.

"Any final requests?" Copper cocks his head,

"I think... yeah, I think I want to be alone for this. Thank you," 

"Of course. Rest well then, and may your sleep bring great growth" Copper stood from his seat, the blessing leaving him without thought as the rich man closed his eyes a smile still tugging on his old, withered face.

The door to the rich man's room shut with a light thud as Copper drifted down the halls, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He rarely visited the dying, usually he only came to the deceased caught between their death's and their afterlives to guide them across, and this was why. He knew where the clot was, it would only take a moment and a little bit of concentration to break it up enough that the rich man's body would be able to handle it on it's own. Sure, doing so would probably only buy him a few more bed bound days, a week maybe, but healers can rarely be trusted to leave the sick and dying to the whims of nature and he was no different. 

He wandered through the empty halls decorated with treasures that, do to a single deal made half a century ago, would soon be his, and found his way into a shrine room. Shelves upon shelves of precious jewls and metals, fine fabrics and sculptures filled the room. Though the alter beneath the stained glass window held only sea glass and shells that glittered from around a poorly made tapestry that depicted a stormy ocean.

The threads were too loose in some places too tight in others and there were places where it was clear the weaver ran out of one color and had attempted to dye more only for it to come out just wrong enough to be noticed. It was clearly made by inexperienced hands and now stood displayed still in it's loom in the place of honor on this shrine. Pride in its existence radiated from it and that made it stunning despite it's flaws. 

Distantly, he felt the rich man die, quietly and peacefully.

One of Copper's aspects would guide him across and later while Copper slept he'd dream of the conversation that aspect and the rich man would have, and he would dream of the conversations his other, near innumerable, aspects would have, and have had, and have been having with every other human who has crossed into his domain since he last slept. Then he would wake, and forget almost everything said during those conversations as they meld together into a messy but beautiful tapestry. All the threads visible and traceable in their places but ultimately he saw it not for the individuals, but the grander thing they made together.

He picked at the stones and shells scattered on one of the shelves, his dulled claws scraping against the rough surface. He should probably go find someone to deal with the body...

The soft creaking protest of a floor board that no longer fit in it's place being tread on called from behind him. Copper turned, curious to who or what would be intruding on this moment, but he was left slack jawed with a greeting trapped behind his lips as he saw the man.

Surrounded by gold and silver and precious gems that glittered in the low moonlight that flowed through the windows, this man outshone them all. He was tall for a human, coming up to just below Copper's collar bones, with broad, strong looking shoulders. His sharp features highlighted by the silver light caressing his warm tan skin and haloed by that same light echoing through the broken strands of bleach blonde hair that fell from his neat bun to frame his narrow face.

Light agitation turned to wonder and awesrrucked silence as Copper struggled for a second to find words, but once again those words died when he met the man's eyes, they were probably a deep brown but the low light turned them onyx. His gaze was sturdy, not cold or calculating, not bored. Determined but practiced.

The strange, beutiful, human man wore the expression of a butcher or a slaughterer, he did not draw perverse pleasure or joy from what came next. He was so obviously merely doing a job as he moved faster than Copper's confusion addled mind could react to that that alone struck more fear into Copper's core than if the man were hissing and snapping with rage.

The ice hot cut of an iron blade dug past the flesh between his ribs and into his chest even as he recoiled. On pure instinct he growled an awful rumbling sound that made the butcher- the hunter, flinch as Copper managed to stumble away, nearly falling to one knee as his own lung struggled to inflate. He could feel his magic burning along the wound as it tried, and failed to pull it closed. His hand going to his bloodied side in a vain attempt of staunching the flow. 

The hunter advanced, cautious and silent, his blade, slicked with Copper's own viscous black blood, raised as he followed the retreating god.

Copper hissed as his back collided with a shelf, cornered he pulled his attentions together just enough to attempt to teleport away, only to feel his magic jolt painfully within him as it failed completely.

The hunter advanced, already readying another swing.

In that moment Copper forced himself to focus on the warm summer night air, on the flickering candles and the heat of the hunter's body, most seals could be overpowered, he just needs to rush it hard enough. 

Heat leaves the room, the hunter stumbles with a pained gasp as the heat leaves him too. Copper doesn't see if the hunter falls because the seal gives as he uses all of that stolen energy to burst against it.

He drops to his knees on the cold stone floor of the cave he calls home. His blood singing through magic seared veins, his hands shaking as he braces one against the floor below him as his world swims, both from blood loss and the disorientation that always came with pushing his power that hard,

He struggles with his wound, gasping with effort as his magic finally starts working again. The wound tieing itself closed beneath his palm, a thick black scar forming as he comes down from the mountain top high of fearing for his life for the very first time since before the advent of this universe.

Copper slumps against the water-carved wall of his home, his head falling back against it with a deep buzz running beneath his skin, and he Laughs, deep and hearty and Alive in a way he has not felt in centuries.

[nuttersascend]

What did it mean to be human?

Eyes bulged out with their nerves prominently covering the pure white slimy surface, as the latest example’s jaw extended far beyond their limits with blood pouring through the pavement step. It was not a peaceful death, and it wouldn’t be granted regardless of his pleas or information reveal.

His scream reached an inhuman pitch as they deformed his face, after which they shot at his body, giving him his peace far too late.

Osamu Dazai looked uninterested. There was nothing he had said that could pique his intrigue, for it was all crystal clear even without a single utterance. His body and his actions screamed evidence- it wasn’t even worth a second glance.

The mercy he had begged for didn’t come as his suffered from a cerebral shock from the utter pain. The finish was traditional and utterly boring, which fit the man to a T, his name not even worth remembering. He squealed like a pig throughout the punishment, but Dazai saved himself from the headache from all that noise by wearing earmuffs. It seemed like his mouth couldn’t be open far enough to compensate from that volume.

Why did such a typical man cling to life? His attachment and desperation overlapped with countless others and added on to his collection. It was another tally to his body count as they reduced to grudge-bearing ghosts. It was sad that those were merely shadows of what they once were and nothing more. The concept just slipped past his hands once it was over.

It was their swan dance, a gesture that was to highlight everything they would represent as their life would be extinguished.

In this profession, he could see what humans truly were, even literally speaking. Nothing was skin deep, with secrets forcibly pulled apart with separated tongues. The ties that held the members ran deeper than blood, as gallons and gallons of it flooded into their lives, invading their possessions.

Nothing was subtle when everything was violence. The faces around him blared everything he needed to know as they looked at him with awe, fear, emotions that coloured them with such gaudy and flamboyant paints.

His missions and the collar he willingly donned to reveal what was behind the curtains left him unsatisfied, just as an audience member got disillusioned when they saw the backstage of the play.

The Mafia was a power tower and with all that influence, it gave him a front-row onto the happenings of the citizens of Yokohama. It was their tango with death that told him so much about people’s lives as he could personally view their entire life on a cinema reel as it flashed by. Information flowed excessively as his subordinates put eyes, ears and mouths around the city as records upon records full of data were accessible to him. They adequately summarized their lives.

But with every life extinguished, Dazai could only agonize ‘Is that all there is to being human?’

It was all neatly packaged like a firecracker disintegrating into dust. It made him wonder if he’d truly live at that edge too. It was the thrill that boiled inside him at the threat that everything could be over at that very instant if the brave ones in front of him pulled the trigger.

The bullet could break through his skin, embed itself into his muscles and dig into his flesh as it would hit his bones and puncture his organs. Then as it made its way through, exploring his physical body, it could see what made him Osamu Dazai as he was outwitted by fate, by his opponent’s ingenious or his ally’s betrayal and incompetence and thoroughly lost, having given his all.

As his potential was snuffed out, the bullet could leave his body, leaving nothing more to see and leaving a corpse behind that would tell no more tales, despite all of the person’s history being tantalizingly told by whatever was left behind as all vital signs faded away into the void.

Boring. It was the monotonous drudgery that surrounded him as the Mafia only saw in black or white, simplifying things until those labels would have to be forced to fit. He could show up in bandages, looking like a damsel in distress and yet no one would bat an eye- his outstanding prowess excusing his eccentricity. He sent a rabbit with a communication device around its collar in his place to face his assignment and yet they would quake in fear as he spoke the obvious.

That rabbit came back to him with a head missing as the traitor’s last method of defiance, but it simply carried on, relaying his message. It seemed like being headless affected neither of them. Mori said that it had been prepared into his special feast, but the bandaged man could only pout as all his fun was ruined.

It was the little things that popped up during investigations that fascinated him. His thoughts could circle around these incidents as he dissected the metaphorical frog until it was dead. He grew bored the instant he found out that he was beating a dead horse. The injuries he received from the close encounters drew adrenaline to his nerves and made him feel almost human.

He went closer to the newest troublemaker and crooned pitifully. “Why would you miss such a golden opportunity? You had that beautifully sharp knife and I’ve not broken your hands. Heck, even if I lopped your limbs off, you should have crawled and stabbed me holding one in your teeth.

Did you need more motivation? Should I have mailed your comrades’ heads to your doorstep?”

Blood dripped from a wound that was just centimetres away from the machine that beat life into him. Disappointment irradiated from him as he saw his assailant taking his last breaths as he lied down, riddled with bullets. On top of that, Dazai’s look of fervour as he kept the man in place as a still target- holding the knife snugly close to his heart disarmed his attacker.

“How incompetent. Your eyes weren’t even focused in the right place. I simply moved in a step to the side and you failed at that distance.”

If his opponents could push him off a building, he could feel the wind whiz past him as gravity would push into him and piling the weight of all his sins as he would lose all control of his limbs during the free fall. If he would not be cushioned, his skeletal prison would break right open as the restraints that made him conform to the human appearance would break right open like a watermelon as his blood and organs would flow wherever they would please. The winds in his sails would be knocked out immediately as his lungs deflate as the wind that accompanied him during his descent abandoned him. His face would be damaged beyond recognition as his identifying feature would go missing. Maybe then, his rats wouldn’t put his name before their eyes and flee from a battle that hadn’t even started.

To make things worse, the prized abilities that gave his enemies their infamy were reduced to dust and ashes at his single touch. Wrapping them in bandages did not stop the executive from reducing a potential challenge and ruining all the fun.

His eyes had glittered when he saw abilities that invoked the elements of nature itself as the beings who could consider themselves forces of natures went through their forces like they were mowing grass. The people who filled in the pages and went into the history as written by Ango Sakaguchi, a rather peculiar historic record that noted down the losers instead, wracked their brains and perfected their skills to overcome insurmountable odds. But Dazai’s ability was rather one-note, disconnecting him from ever feeling those experiences as he reduced a person’s worth by simply touching them. The fear of seeing a formidable enemy would never truly resonate with him.

The ones that surrounded him were new faces that changed every day with life and death interchanging and interacting frequently with him in the centre. As he survived, the more survival became innate to him. His subconsciousness became his biggest rival instead.

Nothing worked. Nothing.

Poison that became a part of his diet. Abrasions in his throat making it sensitive from the attacks both inside and out leading to him constantly wearing bandages as a necklace.

Concussions and head injuries did nothing to hinder his perception, with everything being as clear as ever before. The tipsy feeling of drunkenness to make him an easier target just left a longer trail of bodies, nipping his enemies in the bud and leaving underdeveloped cases that never truly became the threat it was capable of becoming.

He jumped off from buildings, bridges, walls as he recklessly explored uncharted areas during chases. He tripped over rough terrains as his consciousness faded from overexertion, and yet he survived. Never unscathed, but never left to die or stronger from the insights learned.

It was like he got into a game of sorts. He set up a precarious scenario for himself and he would have to get out of that situation alive. As he cycled through these games, it slowly escalated. The thrill of hanging by a single thread along with the despair that came from being forced into both taking part in it and leaving them behind- all for nothing but a single moment of respite.

It was maddening.

At first, it was glass shard splinters that covered his upper body, one dangerously close to his eye as his vision flickered when it broke into pieces as the lamp was overloaded beyond its limits. It changed to intrigue as he explored different knives and daggers as they sunk into his skin, leaving behind a scorching sensation- particularly at his nerves as he looked at the thinning blood and the permanence of the scars they left behind. It was like cotton out of a stuffed teddy bear. He wrapped it up in the gift wrap of bandages as they stung horribly as they tried to heal. But he wasn’t satisfied at just that as he put nettle leaves at the exposed flesh and trapped insects in the open wounds.

The searing pain overcame all his thought as the feeling of pain dominated his mind. At that instant, no troubling thoughts remained in his mind. Sweat poured out from his skin pores as he compared the heat, he was feeling with something that was known for its heat- a simple cigarette butt. His senses were overloaded as the smell of burnt flesh remained prominent in his mind. Thus, he decided to share it with the rats who were good sports.

In return, his harrowing lifestyle led to him having more revelations about enemy strategies as they carried the same intention as he did- a plan to hurt and kill him.

He started deviating from the normal, as a sense of misery from his activities permeated into his life. It was a dreadful feeling of apathy that came from the predictability of it all. He could play people like a fiddle from both his self-reflections and the curiosity that nagged at him as he pulled people apart and put them back together with every word and gesture put forward. He couldn’t help but notice their reactions and explored them, learning about them more as a person- what made them tick,

What made a person human?

That disconnect grew stronger as the weapons they threatened him with looked familiar, overlapping with other faces of suffering, his included. It triggered vivid sensations as the murky feeling of pain mixed in with that strong desire to come closer and reach out.

The knife that pointed right at him, looked custom made as the strong malice made for a tete a tete between the two, attacker and target. Their roles were ambiguous, with what was apparent differing from what was reality. The knife that could have very well put an end to his ever-moving footsteps through bodies upon bodies and the same knife that showed the pathetic man beside him who was caught in his carefully constructed web. The dissonance between the two dug into Dazai’s psyche. There was first him, who brought such pain onto himself, both from the disappointment from never meeting his match and the gut-wrenching hysteria from seeing the same view from his opponent’s perspective of not even matching up to himself. And there was his opponent, who never seemed to meet his expectations and answer the question that plagued him.

It was the eerie question that stared him right in the face as he saw nothing ahead of him as he stood at the edge of the precipice, with the stench of death surrounding him. Was this all that was there?

His opponents preyed on the weak, like children, people who sought to protect despite not having the ability, civilians who dreamt of pies in the sky while denying reality. Noble intentions were completely wasted on them as ideals were ruthlessly exploited.

They ensnared them, while he devoured them. The eyes that looked upon a monster transferred between the levels.

As he meandered between life and death while searching for something in that eternal darkness, he could only glance at what could be beyond life while his attention lingered and longed at the empty room that he obsessively stayed with, a life where he sought meaning and purpose and yet, none was found or bestowed upon him.

He chose to be a puppet as long as Ougai would put on a show after going so far as upturning the whole cast. But the view he saw as the main cast was one that was neither a dream nor a nightmare. For all the power and charisma that the Port Mafia and its leader possessed, it could only leave him heart-wrenchingly still on his knees.

He could plead and beg, his roles did not leave him anything to satiate his hunger with.

He starved as he danced erratically for a morsel or two as he descended to his insanity- the puppeteer’s strings weren’t a good fit for him. There was no one who could nourish him as they chased sights that appeared only to them.

There was nothing left behind and no future he could pursue as he stood on a graveyard filled with scavengers. There’d be nothing left behind and the ravens that swarmed around him urged him to continue onwards, showing faux jewellery that he could never adorn. He allowed them to fester, urging them to devour him completely and then they continued the play, chanting-

“Nevermore.”

[iruludavare]

♛ for my muse to teach yours something new

Softer prompts || Accepting

         “Well...”

     It is rare, for Serena the opportunity to teach another person something. It is even rarer for that to concern her own personal beliefs and view of the world. So perhaps it is unsurprising that Red’s request is one that Serena first meets with silence, and an expression that primarily laces itself with shock and the faintest undertones of joy. What could she talk about? Is there something specific that he wants to hear? Does Red even know about her roots, and asks simply because of that, or is it born more out of sheer curiosity?

          “I was always taught that we never travel through this life alone. Everywhere we go, there are spirits-- in everything around us, and ones of those who have passed on that roam our world freely. ”

    Grey eyes flicker off to the side. What if the heroine speaks her mind, and all he does is think her to be stupid? A mindless woman following outdated trains of thought? Serena is very aware that her views are far from the norm when looking at the modern world-- the assumption that she follows the same belief system as a vast majority of others is proof enough.

          “As you live your life-- as you travel places, and meet new people--, some of those roaming spirits will choose to stay by your side. They act as guides, or protect you from hardship and anguish.”

     It is, of course, a very simplified version that she tells the other, if only to not accidentally ramble on about something she could so easily talk about for a good part of a day. Her attention moves over to Red’s features for a brief moment in a feeble attempt to gauge his reaction, even if she has yet to learn how to read him in the first place.

          “And this why some people are capable of extraordinary powers-- like seeing into the future, or moving things with their mind, or manipulating the energy around them. They are gifts from them that manifest only if that person is capable of communicating with them. But that, in itself, requires--”

     Serena pauses abruptly. A low, single laugh muffles against pale lips, and as a hand moves to tuck some strand of hair behind the heroine’s ear, her gaze is quick to move back out in front of them. She has said too much.

          “--Sorry. I’m... probably boring you.”

[cdrforea]

Arlo Pro 3 Review: A Great Choice For Smart Home Security

New Post has been published on https://bestedevices.com/arlo-pro-3-review-a-great-choice-for-smart-home-security.html

Arlo Pro 3 Review: A Great Choice For Smart Home Security

"The Alro Pro 3 is a premium choice for smart home security."

Weatherproof, wireless cameras

High quality 2K video

Smart A.I. characteristics

Easy to install and use

Easy upgrade for existing Arlo owners

Minor performance issues with multiple 2K streams

A subscription is required for advanced features

Since its beginnings as a peculiar offshoot of Netgear, Arlo has found its rhythm with an excellent selection of wireless and weatherproof smart cams. The high-resolution Arlo Pro 2 tops our list of the best outdoor surveillance cameras in 2019 – and it is also a good choice for indoor surveillance.

In April Arlos became Ultra 4K came and marked the first shot in a next generation fight for the supremacy of the UHD Smart Cam. It offers superior sharpness and impressively large views, but a price tag of $ 300 per camera and a restrictive upgrade path for existing Arlo owners meant it wasn't a big hit.

The Arlo Pro 3 ($ 499 for a 2-camera kit with additional cameras at $ 199 each) is exactly between the two. While Arlo Ultra 4K's headline-breaking UHD resolution is lacking, it does offer a wider range of enhancements that – arguably – make it a better choice than Arlo's most expensive kit.

Terry Walsh / Digital Trends

This new model improves the Arlo Pro 2's 1080p image resolution to sharper, more vivid 2K (2560 x 1440 pixels) and supports a high dynamic range (HDR), which promises better video quality in very dark or bright areas. A 160 degree field of view may be narrower than the Arlo Ultra 4K's generous 180 degree field of view, but it's a significant advance over the 130 degrees offered by the outgoing model.

Additional functions are performed directly by the Arlo Ultra 4K. A built-in headlamp enables Arlo to claim color night vision support, while noise-canceling two-way audio and a siren in front of the camera further strengthen the Arlo Pro 3's security requirements. It also benefits from the clean magnetic charging system that we got to know in April that promises a battery life of up to six months between charges.

A better choice for Arlo upgrades

Visually, the cameras and the SmartHub of the Arlo Pro 3 look identical to those we saw when we tested the Arlo 4K Ultra. This is not a bad thing, as Arlo's much-copied design is one of the more compact and attractive systems. The curvy all-plastic case is sturdy enough to withstand the elements, while installation is simplified with a strong magnetic mounting system (a screw option is also available). A partially flattened base also allows the camera to be placed indoors on a shelf or desktop. In short, you can install the Arlo Pro 3 anywhere.

The often copied design by Arlo is one of the more compact and attractive systems.

It also includes Arlo's latest SmartHub (VMB4540), which enables the network connection between the cameras and your router. Again, it looks identical to the slimmer device introduced with the Arlo Ultra 4K, but a closer look reveals important differences. External video storage for camera recordings is available, but this model enables it via a single USB 2.0 port instead of the microSD slot equipped with the Arlo Ultra. This is good news for surveillance video horters who benefit from storage capacities of up to 2 TB. The The lower resolution video from Arlo Pro 3 also allows the system to work with reduced bandwidth requirements. This SmartHub works with 802.11 b / g / n Wi-Fi and not with the faster "AC" standard supported by the Arlo Ultra 4K.

Terry Walsh / Digital Trends

Perhaps the best news is that owners of some older Arlo systems You can add Arlo Pro 3 cameras to your existing network and take advantage of enhanced 2K video streams without having to replace the SmartHubs. This makes the Arlo Pro 3 a better upgrade option than the first-class Arlo kit. Arlo Pro 3 owners can even add Ultra 4K cameras to their systems at a later date without losing functionality.

Setup is a breeze

As with any Arlo system we tested, commissioning Arlo Pro 3 is very easy. Arlo recently launched a new version of its smartphone app that guides you through the installation. While cheaper smart camera systems can switch between direct Bluetooth and Wi-Fi connections during setup, Arlo's wired SmartHub does the installation smoothly.

Hardware installation is just as easy. The scope of delivery includes options for screw and magnetic fastening. Arlo's newer concave magnetic mount is fabulous and combines strength and versatility. Cameras snap into place intelligently on the bracket on the back and can be precisely angled despite the fixed connection. For more ambitious installation, the supplied adjustable safety bracket can be screwed into walls, fences, ceilings, trees, etc. It supports 360 degree rotation and 90 degree tilt.

A step in video quality

In use, the Arlo Pro 3's 2K image quality is a noticeable improvement over the previous generation camera (and a huge leap over the 720p that is supported by the original Arlo system). While it's not quite as clear as Arlo Ultra 4K or wired Nest Cam IQ models, it's still very good indeed. With the improved resolution, you can take advantage of the camera's 12x digital zoom without pictures instantly falling into a blurry chaos. However, if you slide beyond the 3x zoom, the quality will be noticeably affected. Arlo Pro 3 is equipped with an intelligent automatic zoom and tracking function, which is practical for security monitoring. As we found with the Arlo Ultra 4K, the resolution of the camera is unfortunately reduced to 1080p when the function is activated.

Night vision offers greater sharpness and clarity than many competitors.

We found that the image quality is balanced during the day, with precise colors and good contrast. Arlo's Auto HDR feature makes it one of the few smart cameras we've tested indoors that avoid overexposure near bright windows. This means that you take pictures of people looking through your windows to see if you are at home. The 160-degree field of view is wide enough to cover all but the most spacious rooms or huge gardens, and the distortion of the fisheye is negligible.

At night, the Arlo Pro 3 color night vision feature requires the camera's built-in headlight to be illuminated. The resulting images are certainly more natural than the creepy standard black and white images produced by competitors. While the range is good, color night vision suffers from the blurring and noise that typically occur in high ISO photography. When the headlight is off, the camera returns to a standard night vision setting. The lighting range is good here too, and while monochrome images are a bit noisy, the night vision of Arlo Pro 3 offers greater clarity and clarity than many of its competitors.

Piercing alarm, integrated headlight

While the Arlo Pro 3 doesn't necessarily compete with those Simple or nest safe As a full smart home security system, it has a number of overlapping features that are worth considering until we wait for the next one to arrive Arlo security system.

The Arlo Pro 2 SmartHub piercing alarm was transmitted to the cameras themselves. The option can be triggered when motion is detected. The resulting bat is certainly enough to scare an intruder and, together with the camera's bright, integrated LED spotlight, forms an effective first line of protection for your home.

The Arlo app supports a number of configurable modes for activating the system. In addition to manually switching, you can enable monitoring using a timed schedule or geolocation setting. Each mode can be customized with simple IFTTT rules for motion detection, video recording, and built-in alarm, or you can quickly create a custom mode that suits your preferences. Everything is very simple.

Easy to use, but it's super smart under the hood.

Elsewhere, we found the updated Arlo app easy to understand. There are few ways to optimize camera settings. However, they do include useful options such as brightness, low-light settings, and video quality controls. Navigating, reviewing, and sharing video clips from the library is easy. A standard daily timeline view is supported by filters that allow users to zoom in on specific cameras or review clips based on the type of alert triggered or object detected. Our only criticism of the app is that connecting to a camera's livestream can take a while, even on the local network. In some cases, we watched live video within 5 seconds. In other cases, there is a delay of up to 30 seconds.

Terry Walsh / Digital Trends

Since both cameras broadcast 2K video live at the same time, we noticed some temporary performance problems during stress tests. About every 20 seconds, both streams were replaced by a black screen for one second before the livestream was restored. When local 2K streaming is disabled, performance has improved, although we still see flickering from time to time. Since both cameras report a good signal, we can only assume that it is a problem with the network bandwidth or a processing bottleneck. Maybe it would have been better to maintain Arlo Ultra's 802.11ac connectivity?

Intelligent functions behind Paywall

While Nest often praises Smart Cam A.I. accepted, the Arlo Pro 3 is equipped with an admirable set of enhancements that offer real convenience and utility. Unfortunately, most are locked up behind you Arlo Smart Subscription service for $ 3 per month. A 3-month free trial version is available during setup so that you can try out the functions and check whether the upgrade makes sense.

This includes extended object recognition, which the camera can use to differentiate between people, vehicles, animals and packages (the latter is currently in the beta phase). Smoke and carbon dioxide alarm detection sends you a smartphone notification when a camera detects an audible alarm. US subscribers also benefit from an e911 feature that allows you to call emergency services with a single touch of a button on your smartphone.

We loved Arlo's extensive notification feature, which adds a thumbnail to the smart notifications sent to your phone. When a person is recognized, an image captured by your camera is displayed. Many smart cams do the same thing, but Arlo also darkens the image and clearly highlights the person in the frame. With a quick glance you can check whether the friend or foe of the camera has been recognized. Arlo is easy to use, but super smart under the hood. With everyday features like custom activity zones and a 30 day cloud for video recording, Arlo Smart functions well. Only you can decide whether they are worth the extra effort.

Our opinion

While the Arlo Ultra 4K made headlines with its striking UHD video resolution, we think the Arlo Pro 3 is a more worthy and economical successor to our favorite smartcam of the past two years, the Arlo Pro 2. It is certainly not cheap, but the improved one Image quality, the integrated security functions and the simple app control of the Arlo Pro 3 make it an excellent choice for home surveillance. If you enjoy investing in a monthly subscription, you can take advantage of an expanded suite of useful A.I. Features that make the Arlo Pro 3 one of the smartest systems around. In the meantime, owners of Arlo systems of the first and second generation have a reasonable way to update their cameras and / or SmartHubs. We were waiting for a competitive Arlo Pro 2 smart cam to hit the bar – maybe it was inevitable that the Arlo Pro 3 would do the job.

Is there a better alternative?

Few intelligent cameras offer Arlo's convincing mix of simplicity, quality and versatility. With a limited budget, however, there are numerous cheaper systems available. The Swann Smart Security Camera ($ 129) is a solid budget device with similar wireless connectivity and weatherproof protection to Arlo and 1080p HD imaging. At the premium end of the market, the Arlo 4K Ultra ($ 599 for a 2-camera bundle) definitely beats the Arlo Pro 3 in terms of video quality, but upgrades should be aware that they can be used in new cameras and a replacement SmartHub investments have to use UHD video. The Cam Cam Outdoor ($ 399) and Nest Cam IQ Indoor ($ 299) cameras are great performers that lack the versatility and value of the Arlo Pro 3.

How long it will take?

Arlo Pro 3 was developed to withstand the hard temperament of mother nature with operating temperatures between -20 degrees Celsius and 45 degrees Celsius. So expect the hardware to be robust. In terms of software, Arlo continues to publish improvements and optimizations for all Arlo systems. We therefore expect the owners to live a long and happy life with the Arlo Pro 3.

Should you buy it

Yes. It's an investment, but the Arlo Pro 3 is a great choice for those considering their first smart home camera system.

Editor's recommendations

[pipesflowforeverandever]

Simply Second Nature

The lovely @ichaisme commissioned me to write a lyric fic about her and my Joey Drew interpretation, Gingie! The voice featured in the actual song is my voice canon for Gingie, and you can listen along here. 

Thank you so much for commissioning me! I’ve always had very vivid imagery for this song and it was wonderful to make it come to reality.

The young woman could hardly believe that she was standing here, upon the cusp of magnificence and unlimited opportunity for dreams to come true. Ginger Drew threw open his doors, and she- yes, somehow, she- had caught in the corner of his eye, captured his attention; but the visitor had no doubt that the magical one was the old redhead with a golden smile escorting her now by his side.

But still, arm in arm in a private tour of his studio, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Sir…?” Maddie mumbled, eyes wide but stuck on his neat, polished shoes. The visitor refused speak until Gingie gave his hum, a hooded gaze flickering over and a touch down in a casual, waiting glance . She felt her breath hitch a moment, despite his casualness. “I- I was…wondering.” The last word was drawled as her chin tilted up, catching the essence of his work- the stray sketches, the rolls of film, the grinning cutouts- evidence of both his empire and of his more…personal creations.

“Why do you do all this, anyway…? Money?”

A brow underneath his top hat raised at the inquiry, and a flush burnt into her cheeks, immediately realizing that was perhaps the most impolite of first guesses. “No- Is it…to be famous?” Now, a higher pitch in the last question as she felt herself socially digging a hole. No, he didn’t respond to that either. Just the same curious look- although maybe she was missing precisely how amused he was beginning to be.

The ginger’s footsteps only gave a few more clicks along the wooden floorboards before he stopped in place, loosening his arm to fold it across his chest with the other. By now, her words were spoken with a grimace, a semi-desperate gaze for any sort of hint.

“…Fun?”

He was either the worst tease or most the dramatic planner as he remained silent in the room they happened to pause within. One shift of his stare gently fell upon the ticking Bendy clock hung high up above their heads, another, then, upon a projector quietly spurring in the corner as empty yellow film colored a square upon the wall. A final one, of course, fell upon her.

“You really don’t…see it, do you?”

The gal’s chestnut eyes softened as she finally noticed the sharpness of his own, glinting honey with a smile that reached at the way up to them. Something was about to happen, and she felt it shake in her bones even before it inexplicably, miraculously reached like a whisper in her ears, stealing her breath and raising the hairs on her neck. The first notes of a piano chimed low and sweet, but her twisting head couldn’t find the source. What she did see was the room- no, the whole world- turn white like a blank canvas.

A jump with a gasp as Mr. Drew reached to hold her wrist and wagged his finger, expression glinting in hardly contained enthusiasm. She had so much to learn.

“A painter needs no reason,” Gingie started to sing, “To make a thing of art! Yes, there’s no switch to stop and start the flow.” Having gotten her attention, the rosy hand in a ruffled sleeve gleefully let go, and a squint gestured for her to look as he stuck up his flexing thumb.

“A gardener has his season, his green thumb���and his heart!” He fluttered his fingers into a fist, shifting them like they were beating with his chest before uncurling to rhythmically, playfully pointing his index finger again. “Don’t ask a man, ‘Why does your garden grow’”

In imitation of such an ignorant person, the redheaded dandy shook his head before stepping away, coattails flapping. His movement was…ethereal.

Animated.

Maddie wondered if her stray hairs seemed to glow like his did against the heavenly pale backdrop.

“A poet sits for hours-” The woman lost her breath again as the man sang the next verse, running with an arm outstretched as she saw him trip-

…No!

It was on purpose, and with a shimmer of gold beneath him, he was seated with crossed legs upon a fluffy arm chair that could only have come from nowhere.

The mischievous old artist gave her a wink before looking away, as if performing for an audience.

“-With words upon his tongue.” A close of the eyes and a dramatic, slow shake of his head accompanied with a wide-armed shrug, feigning despondency. “He cannot help but rhyme his doom and gloom… But if you taste my flowers-!”

The woman gasped again, audibly this time, as his hands had spun masterfully in the air before something appeared in his grip like a baton, thrust right towards her face. Impossible! With a sheen of a papery yellow that glittered with the right tilt, he had materialized a flower with four petals and a perfectly round middle.

“You’ll see that I’m among- that…-”

It was then that she accepted Gingie was magical in more ways than one, as she hesitantly reached a trembling, awestricken hand to take what was offered… only for her body to lurch forward as he abruptly pulled it away to rub his chin and roll his eyes up in thought.

“…Certain group,” he decided, spoken as if he was trying out how each singular word sounded, “That…lucky troupe-” Petals tickling his nostrils, a look of someone so in love with his own mind went back to she who asked for a glimpse of it. As such, he drawled the next line for the grandiosity surely ahead. “For whom…it’s…-”

She saw his fingers gesture, and like paintbrushes were hidden in their tips, watercolors bled and stroked pastel red, blue, yellow across the white space with no clear idea how distant or close they were, or if it even mattered at all.

“Simply second nature, to wish away the grey…”

A lock of hair fell out of place as she jumped yet again, having stared so closely she didn’t notice Gingie was suddenly so distant, having painted himself the backdrop of his story. His wrist turned up, up, up, and suddenly there was a yellow trunk and leaves stained with the other two dyes.

“To make a licorice stick…and make a tree!” He gestured from floor to sky the entirety of his creation, proud of its wonder before curling his hand to his chest more pensively. “Yes, there’s no rhyme or reason.”

She blinked when that devilish grin turned her way again, the tips of his coattails held like a dress skirt and his knees bent in a courtesy.

“I was simply made this way!” And he nodded in such a way she couldn’t help but giggle. This being exactly what he was looking for, his eyes hooded and he straightened back up like a teacher in front of the class, seeking to share the wisdom of his years. “What’s strange to you is natural to me.”

But of course, it didn’t last, and soon he was sweeping across the space in front of her, a rainbow spotting the pale in the trail of his heels.

“It’s simply second nature! To paint outside the lines! It merely is the way that I was born!”

Fickle, the old man stopped yet again, a hand to his heart and a dreamy stare up to the heavens like he could see eternity waiting up ahead. “You see I’ve been selected,” the next words came much more tenderly, “To create the-” And his tongue was stuck again as he flicked his eyes to the other person in the room. She could feel him light up as something about her served as a proper reminder. “…Unexpected!”

The sound of clarinets hummed in tune, almost like they finally understood what he was saying. His gaze flicked to them, too, with a satisfied smirk towards a ceiling that wasn’t there.

“And make each day feel just like…- Christmas morn!”

Maddie heard a snap and suddenly to her left side was a portrait towering tall, realistic lips, nose, and eyes. Not a single strand of hair that didn’t look like it belonged hung over its forehead. It was so perfect, it didn’t take long for her to recognize it clearly as a painting.

“Picasso took a torso and turned it on it’s head!” She didn’t know whether to object or not as he bent to the ground to grab the ornate corner of the picture’s frame, but soon it was spun all the same.

It rotated so fast that it blurred, and when it finally stopped, body parts were shifted and the style was simplified into shapes. He really had made a Picasso!

At her amazed expression, he simply shrugged and inspected his creation. “It isn’t right or wrong; it’s what he felt!”

The instruments thumped like a man walking down stairs, and that was precisely what he seemed to be doing on air as the colors melted under her shoes- making her yelp- and swam to her left. There were clocks strung up and perfectly round, like the flower still flopping as it was tucked in his coat.

“And Dali, even more so, would positively DREAD!” The emphasized word was accompanied with both palms pressed to his chest as he feigned a heart attack, his heels tilting so far back they seemed to give way; even his hair seemed to stick out a bit more like he was electrified with shock. It was a shift that reverberated to the scene he had drawn, perhaps, as soon the edges of the clocks became less and less solid to the point they were dripping like ink.

“-Explaining why his hands of time should melt…!” Another twirl in the melody and like eggs cooked in the sun, the time ran runny and flopped over the surfaces they were laid.

Why did she keep losing her breath for the man that saw so much in her, saw himself in her, even? It happened again as a hand was placed on her shoulder and another pressed fingertips underneath her chin. She had asked him why he did what he did, and was yet continually surprised? This was his canvas, and she his apprentice. With all of his focus on making her feel as he did, he removed the touch from her face and plucked the flower from his coat. So close, it was undoubtedly not any ordinary blossom; it was a cartoon, not unlike the ones he made- like…he had drawn it himself, and now it simply existed.

Just like that.

And if she had looked, she would have been able to see more popping up one by one to place her in a whole field. If she had looked, she could see something not a color collecting around him like an aura. But she didn’t look, because that one flower and the unspoken reminiscence hidden upon a face so close was already so much to try to understand.

“And me, I take sweet honey and make a tasteful rose! What can I say? It’s simply what I do.”

The flower was finally hers to take, but his unbroken attention was short lived as the brim of his hat turned wistfully with a wind seen in the petals but not felt.

“Some men make pots of money… They're happy I suppose. But-”

He had walked a bit away to follow whatever he was looking for. Despite how certain she was that he didn’t do this for any financial benefit- although by all appearances he wasn’t without that sort of success either- he still seemed…distant.

Perhaps he himself didn’t even know why he did what he did, deep down.

“…Be grateful that for just a lucky few…its...”

The young woman and the old man knelt down together, pastels brushing at the cloth covering their knees. There were crimson little ladybugs and pollen-yellow bumblebees streaked across grass like sidewalk chalk. And as he offered his knuckles for a small, sapphire butterfly, she finally saw the black ink collecting in flecks on his skin and in the air about him.

“Simply second nature…to see what isn't there…the mind is such a wonder to explore…”

With concern brewing in her chest till it made her stomach hurt and a mouth open but unwilling to interrupt, her gaze trailed up his arm and realized he either saw something she couldn’t or that the growing black he seemed to manifest had begun to blind him from everything else.

“…And though some nights I dread-” She heard him choke, and his golden eyes widened in a flash, exactly as if he could feel how abruptly heavy these shadows had fallen on his shoulders like a halo of something secret, something wicked.

It could only hurt, and the labor of carrying the weight of darkness made him breathless instead, this time around.

“All the voices…” his labored voice managed to utter, “…In my head…-”

With a deep inhale and her supportive grip on his shoulder, he squeezed his eyes shut and his rainbow emanated again little by little with each and every word, stronger and braver in the face of what terrified him most.

“I’d rather be this way than be a bore...!”

Her hand held tight within his, they both stood up and took bold steps forward, the black fleeing him and swirling all around, its path mixing with the speckles of brightness like drops of paint from two different brushes held just above the paper. His free hand rose to in challenge and command to the onyx ink, and his voice was the loudest she had ever heard.

“It’s simply second nature!” Gingie shouted, “To dream of something new!”

He stopped his foot, the flowers beneath and around making a wave like throwing a rock in a puddle. They grew taller, their leaves and petals upturned, wild and overgrown in the face of uncertainty. He balled his fist like he was choking the malevolence he created.

“To wake on fire and try to sculpt each day!”

He threw his hand to his side.

“It’s no blessing- it’s a CURSE!”

And in his own passion, the crusade to convince himself so easily gave power to his own evils once again. The world itself stopped, and for a second Maddie believed she was the only thing moving in this living piece of art. In a split second it was all different; he had let go of her to bend over and hold both hands to his head, reaching into his hair and hiding his face as the ink stain grew and coated absolutely everything with its murk. The only flower left to be seen was between her fingertips.

…

Her chest rising and falling in silent panic, no music to tell her he was still alive, she was just about to try and shake him when she caught a glimpse of his honey irises once again, glimmering his magic as he recognized his curse.

“Wait…” Gingie hardly mumbled. His hand quivered as like this void before him was a person, he reached his hand out to the nothingness of his design that had consumed him. “No…!”

And as the darkness shrunk an inch at a time in response, its center right ahead, something else was created. A white gloved hand with smooth, thick black lines hesitantly twitched in tandem with his own.

But of course.

They were one in the same.

And so as Gingie pulled Bendy out of the puddle of ink, he soothed the devil, singing, “Strike that, and reverse.”

The cartoon was just like a small child, pie-cut eyes wide and innocent, unknowing what chaos he was born from, untainted by the very thing that could- and did- manifest a demon. He gave a blink to Maddie as the rest of the dark fog faded away, the aura about Gingie now being the proper red, yellow, blue he had always wanted others to find; they faded in and out like fairy dust, and she wasn’t sure if the pupils of Mr. Drew’s eyes symbolized something alongside their rings of magic- a circle of warmth around an abyss.

She stared for so long…that she didn’t see him staring back. His lips were slightly apart, and the expression he held was weary.

But…but…

The laugh lines that earned their scars bent again, and Gingie allowed her one last genuine grin as he reached into his soul and brought her a confession:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with tears in his eyes, he held Bendy towards him with one hand and the woman with the other. She remembered the small gift between her fingers and offered it, in turn, to demon, and he gave her a perfect, eight-toothed smile.

The reason he created was, perhaps, in hopes to give away. It was no coincidence, after all, that it was she of all people he chose to take by the hand. She was a creator, too, and so it was time to pass the pencil before his hands couldn’t hold it anymore; Bendy would always need an artist, after all.

He would always need to know he passed his legacy on. And before the end of the day, Maddie would know this, too.

[ontherun-writing]

[other purpose: 0] - DBH

A/N: You see, the thing with me is, I like to write and write, and most of it builds up to the analysis of a relationship between you and Connor, but it takes a long time to get to the real juices of it. I JUST LIKE THE ANALYSIS OF THE WORLD AND CHARACTERS

This part is solely the introduction.

Also I like the idea of interacting with a Chloe. This sounds v serious but you have no idea how much crack!content I have with just Connor interactions.

Summary: With the creation of androids, was time travel really that big of a leap in science? With a purpose given to you by the algorithms created by Elijah Kamski, you can only feel your way in the dark to understand why you were here.

(is this unrealistic? hell yeah but idccccc)

Many believed that people were born with a purpose.

You disagreed.

Purpose was made, not given; and even if it was, what use would it be to have a purpose without cause?

You flinched away as a light shined right into your eyes, making you instinctively raise a hand to block it. “Apologies,” one of the security guard said rather stoically. “I forgot to warn you about the eye sensor camera; this is how you’ll be identified every time you enter the Cyberlife Tower.”

“It’s no problem,” you responded back automatically, though really, you would think later, a warning would have been nice. You shifted your footing in tan heels and stifled the sigh of nervousness as you bunched your hands in front of you. “Has- has the security always been this strict?” You asked, ignoring your slight stutter in lieu of looking at the guard, your eyes flickering every so often toward the rifle he carried.

Without turning towards you, he answered, only a shift of his head in the white helmet told you he was looking at you through the elevator mirror. “Cyberlife has thousands of androids made and stored each day in this very building. All the engineers and workers also work here so it is our duty to keep it safe.”

You pressed your lips together before you could ask what they were keeping themselves safe from.

Instead, you asked, “When will I know why I’m here?” You pulled back your shirt and straightened out the lines in your dress pants. “My parents-- I want to know when I can come back.”

“I’m afraid I’m not the one you should ask. We were ordered to escort you here and that was all.”

The elevator door opened abruptly, scaring you from asking any more questions. You lost track of how many stories you climbed; the town could clearly be seen below you.

“Hello, you must be our guest.”

You blinked before smiling at the blond woman who called your name. You felt your smile falter momentarily when you realized that the beautiful, youthful secretary, whose dress was blue to compliment her eyes (or was it the other way around) was not a human, but an android. A very realistic android.

You hadn’t gotten used to this yet.

It felt… weird, for a lack of better words, to come to a time where technology had advanced to the point that humans lived among androids and almost completely depended on them. You didn’t know how to react to them, for they had the face of a human, the voice of a human (actors?), but the capabilities of something greater, or so you were debriefed.

It was uncanny to say the least, because you didn’t know whether you should just treat them as if they were human even though everyone else seemed to treat them as less than. If you had a reason why you wanted to be kind to the androids, it was because you didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but the question was whether they had real emotions in the first place.

Anyhow, that moral question was a big-ass can of worms, so you decided to ponder your life’s actions later.

“Uhm, yeah, that’s me,” you responded sheepishly, hoping that androids, as advanced as they were to be, couldn’t read thoughts.

The android smiled, her eyes twinkled almost playfully, making your heart skip a beat at the beauty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Chloe, and I’m here as your guide today,” she said, presenting a clipboard for you to read. “I hope I won’t overwhelm you too much, but my orders were to give you a run-through of Cyberlife before your meeting with the committee.”

“Don’t worry, I think I’m overwhelmed already,” you replied jokingly, liking the way your comment made Chloe’s smile widen slightly. “Thank you for taking me around,” you continued.

The pause that Chloe took, looking back at you, made you uneasy because it was as if you said something wrong. The LED on the right side of her head spun yellow for a moment as if processing before she smiled again, as if the moment never happened. “Of course,” she said easily. “If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.”

-

Chloe was not the only Chloe, and you had to find that out the hard way. You had excused yourself to the restroom and came back and tapped the shoulder of a similarly dressed blonde android that was shuffling papers on the desk, ready to continue the tour again. Only, the android turned around with the exactly same face as Chloe, your Chloe in this case, and asked you if you needed help finding someone.

Luckily, Chloe found you right before you mortified yourself to death, and you quickly apologized to the other android before making your way towards the original Chloe.

“I apologize for the confusion,” she said. “I didn’t explain earlier but there are various androids of my models at Cyberlife since I was made for secretarial work, so you will most likely find various androids of the same likeness as me.”

“Uh… Is there any way for me to tell you guys apart?” You asked hesitant, unsure if this was borderline racism or not (but these androids were LITERALLY identical, not a fault of your inability to distinguish between features of the same race).

“Androids will have a copy of their serial number on the back of their collar, or in my case,” Chloe explained, “my dress.” To demonstrate, she turned around and you looked where her hand pointed.

Serial Number 180 232 463-11

If you could explain the way you felt on edge at the learned information, you had to admit that it was the idea that these human-look a-likes had numbers to tell them apart.

“If you ever lose sight of me, please take notice of the last two numbers of my serial number; that is a number unique to me from my model,” she ended, watching as you nodded slowly, unnerved. “Again,” Chloe said almost apologetically, “I hope that incident did not cause you too much of an inconvenience.”

You knew she was apologizing for the same reason she thought you were distressed, and the thought disheartened you. To be completely the same save for a few numbers… Chloe didn’t seem fazed in the slightest perhaps because she was only a robot, after all.

You didn’t know what to feel. If there was anything you could say, it was that you were conflicted on whether if was right to consider them more like machines or humans.

“No, of course not,” you responded, putting your hands up in reassurance. “It’s fine.” You began following Chloe again, finally noting around you that the people that you thought you kept on passing by were actually just different androids of the same model. Identical. One of the same.

You had to adjust.

-

Elijah Kamski founded Cyberlife at the ripe age of sixteen after graduating college. And here you were, just finally struggling through the first year of college with A-minuses. You were silently and unnoticeably appalled that you were already older than him if you went back to your time; you were nineteen-- young and spry-- but you didn’t have an IQ of 171. His success was owed to his creation of androids and their mass manufacture, and later, evolved androids, but resigned after an argument with his company.

It seemed drastic to quit being the strongest man in the world, but hey, you weren’t the one with a burning passion for androids that made it into his living.

The last prototype he did prior to his leaving was a beginnings of a time machine. It was only 10 years later after his resignation that it was finally completed, tested, and patented (because capitalism, of course). Though to call it a time machine would be simplifying its use, because the algorithm imputed within the machine would only give the location and time of the person that the chosen individual would need.

It was at this point you were lost. In what way would the person be “needed,” and more importantly, you began to sweat after realizing the utmost significance that you held at the moment, what was your role? If the algorithm was so successful, was it possible for you to fail? What would happen if you did?

They… wouldn’t kill you, would they? (You must have been watching too many futuristic movies.)

According to the committee, this was your job until the mission was completed. It was hard to wrap your head around, being summoned to another time in the future to aid someone that was of enough importance for Cyberlife to use the time machine for. Let alone, you would be returned to where you were left off from in the past because of the time machine.

Exactly on September 14th, 2018 at 4:34pm in sunny southern California.

It was eerily convenient, you thought, but it was a shame that was the only thing remotely convenient about this situation.

“I’m sorry,” you began, earning the attention of the room of executives. You willed your voice to stop trembling and asked, holding your hands in a nervous deathgrip, “But I’m still a little confused on what exactly I’ll be doing. Who am I supposed to help and with what?”

“Well… We understand that in your time, androids have yet to gain the momentum and power that it has now,” one of the main CEO explained, “but I hope that you can adjust to the situation of working alongside with one of our newer androids.”

You were handed a manila folder, which upon opening, revealed the face of a male android by the series number 313 246 317-51, an RK800 model. You glanced quickly over the summary of his actions and felt your heart stop when you read some of its recent accomplishments. “You mean to say he’s an interrogator?” The fact that he was created officially only early August did not deter you from being both impressed and intimidated by his success. You could barely conceal your terror as you pressed. “I can’t seem to see any way I could possibly help him out with his job; it’s completely out of my-- my scope of knowledge and skills!” You explained, clearly distressed.

The same man looked at you with a slight sharpness to his gaze. “It will investigate the latest crimes regarding deviants, or androids who have gone rouge. It does not matter that you do not know how to help; it is a known fact that most counselors that come from all times will often realize their purpose as time goes on.”

So basically, you snipe back in your mind, I just gotta go fucking blind into this.

Before you could let that irritation seep into your expression, the CEO stood up, gathering his tablet and cleared his throat. “You will be paid heftily for your endeavors, so I hope that you will try your best to aid the RK800 in any way possible. You will be provided with a place to stay and enough resources to live comfortably as long as you are here.”

You opened your mouth to ask questions that you had yet to formulate, “I--”

“Cyberlife thanks you greatly,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything.

Eyes followed your every move. “We are looking forward to your success.”

[seabasszens]

Week 3--History of Design

Outdoor seating area at Natt Spil, Madison, WI.  Although not yet necessarily history, this is an example of the ad-hoc redesign bars and restaurants had to undergo in order to facilitate business during the Covid-19 pandemic.  Once a thru alleyway, this space is now a safe and compliant dining area.  Some details of note are the stools and tables, both being almost entirely function over form; the tables are plastic and foldable, and the splash of orange paint on the stools is the only levity to an otherwise utilitarian piece of furniture.  Between those and the lights, the space exudes a space of ephemerality, ideally only a temporary space to everyone.

Drawing of an electric candle, Natt Spil, Madison, WI.  The interesting feature is the imitative quality the candle has of a real wax pillar candle, complete with the soft, rounded, undulating rim at the top to emulate wax melting naturally.  The light within the “flame” bulb also flickered in order to mimic a real flame. 

Railing holder, Naut-i-gal, Madison, WI.  This bronze figure holding a railing to the bar at this restaurant exudes Art Nouveau, or at the very least inspiration therefrom.  The curvilinear, sweeping fin and hair spreading around the torso harken to la style Mucha, and the way Alphonse Mucha portrayed hair as intertwining and swirling tendrils.  The use of a topless mermaid as a motif as a whole is also reminiscent of Art Nouveau, wherein that era began the use of sexually implicit messaging in advertising and design.

Set table diagram, Harvey House, Madison, WI.  Apart from the pre-set butter, ideally the table should be mirrored symmetrically.  The straight lines of the cutlery, napkins and table edges are offset by the circles of the candle, plates and glassware, evoking Peter Behrens’ Jugendstil, wherein the geometry of a design is simplified down to it’s most basic forms.  Not drawn are the details on the plates, which include plant embellishments around the edges; these depart from Jugendstil, but only insofar as bringing in curvilinear lines of French or Belgian Art Nouveau.

Logo and business card, Harvey House, Madison, WI.  The logo conveys the essential information of the restaurant: the name as well as the integral train car, being that the restaurant is in an old baggage-claim building at a train station.  The font was specifically chosen to evoke a sense of early 20th century/mid-century Americana.  The lack of serifs, similar to the original sans serif typeface by William Caslon IV, allows for seamless conveyance of the message, while the bottom curve of the “s” is extended and softened, adding some levity and ease to the eye vis-à-vis the otherwise starkly geometric type.

First Settlement Neighborhood sign, Madison, WI.  Simple geometric shapes and lines set so as to create a dimension of depth to the otherwise two-dimensional design.  Likewise, the lettering is of simple geometric shapes, but just as much as that is for stylistic purposes to harmonize with the image, functionally, block letters are much easier to cut out of metal.  This sign is clearly custom and bespoke for this neighborhood, as the buildings depicted are the main landmarks in the area, thus marking an example of the Arts & Crafts movement, however indirectly, as it is an artisanal work celebrating the craft of metalworking within the context of celebrating the neighborhood and its own history.

Landmark plaque, Madison, WI.  Both the typeface, as well as how the text is organized, is very reminiscent of Roman square capitals and the inscription at the base of Trajan’s Column.  Although not scriptio continua, it is entirely majuscule lettering, and the text itself is justified, and centered top and bottom, evoking a feeling of authority and legitimacy to this proclamation that this building is a historical landmark and should be respected as such.

Badger State Shoe Factory, Madison, WI.  An industrial building that, although out of brick instead of concrete, still reminds of Jugendstil.  Basic geometric shapes, mostly quadrangles as windows, doors, and walls, are embellished by subtle arches, adding an element of verticality and softness to the openness provided by the sheer number of windows.

French press, my kitchen.  This displays Peter Behrens’ other design ventures in Jugendstil, mixing clean straight lines with the bold curves of the handle, spout, and sphere with which to press down.  Additionally, the marriage of stainless steel and glass, with minimal plastic to add a tertiary element, are typical of Wiener Werkstätte, but like Behrens’ electric tea kettle, mass-produced for the general consumer.

[bitchfitch]

Copper artfight resource

big soft boy. if a cup of spicy hot chocolate was a massive apex predator/ obligate carnivore.

mikely stabbed him the first time they met and he fell in love Instantly.

an excerpt:

Death crept through the lavish halls of a rich man's home. Old cracked paint flaked beside sun faded tapestries and over well worn wood floors. The raged leather soles of of his boots softly thumping along with the creaking of old wood that accompanied his every step. He found the room easily, following the sound of a fading cough and short not quite gasping breaths that failed to draw enough air. 

He ducked through the door and the dying man greeted him with age hazed eyes and a broad grin.

"Copper!" his exclamation carried joy even if his lungs couldn't support more than a creaking whisper, "Bastard, it's so good to see you again," he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes closing as he did so,

"And you as well," Copper returned the smile as he sat in the chair beside the bed, "But to be honest I'm a touch surprised, both that you can see anything through those cataracts, and that you would… Appreciate my presence," 

The rich man chuckled, "Not many people have hair that color, even fewer are as tall as you. I may not be able to see much, but I can still see that,"

"I suppose you're right," Copper huffs with a hand going to his dark red mess of a mane "Still, you must remember the terms of our deal and what my presence means for you now?"

"I do," he nods, "I'm going to die tonight, going to see Min again," 

"Min?"

"My wife," he smiles as he speaks of her even as his words become more labored, "That quill you gave me, I wrote a letter to the girl I had fallen in love with when we were young. I didn't know she couldn't read, so she had to get someone else to read it to her, but when she'd heard what I wrote she came all the way into the valley to slap me and call me an idiot," he laughs, "Told me we should've eloped when we were both still fresh, before she'd found another man to call her own,

I'd not even thought that she'd have gone on like that. It made sense, she could have, and did, do so much better than me. But luck of lucks saw that husband of hers dead not long after. I felt bad for being so happy, but I couldn't stop smiling when she and I married,

That quill- You, gave me the happiest life I could have imagined. I'm glad to pay my end of the deal now, because it means I get to see her again,"

"It's a rare treat to find someone with no regrets, thank you for your story," Copper smiles softly, genuine and warm,

"Oh, I've got regrets," the rich man say "Many, but I don't care to dwell on them, not now… or… Well, one, there's one,"

"Hmm?"

"Min and I, we had a fight right before… She was so mad at me last time I saw her. Do you think she still is?"

"I don't know, but you will have plenty of time to make it up to her soon,"

"Yeah, yeah that's true… It's close now is it?"

"Moments if I had to guess," Copper shrugs, "The clot in your lung is migrating and will soon block off blood flow to the area completely. After that happens you won't be able to get enough air and will… fall asleep, then you will suffocate over a few minutes. It won't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it won't hurt badly," he simplified things greatly, not caring for the slight inaccuracies so long as they helped keep the rich man calm and peaceful in these final moments.

"Any final requests?" Copper cocks his head,

"I think… yeah, I think I want to be alone for this. Thank you," 

"Of course. Rest well then, and may your sleep bring great growth" Copper stood from his seat, the blessing leaving him without thought as the rich man closed his eyes a smile still tugging on his old, withered face.

The door to the rich man's room shut with a light thud as Copper drifted down the halls, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He rarely visited the dying, usually he only came to the deceased caught between their death's and their afterlives to guide them across, and this was why. He knew where the clot was, it would only take a moment and a little bit of concentration to break it up enough that the rich man's body would be able to handle it on it's own. Sure, doing so would probably only buy him a few more bed bound days, a week maybe, but healers can rarely be trusted to leave the sick and dying to the whims of nature and he was no different. 

He wandered through the empty halls decorated with treasures that, do to a single deal made half a century ago, would soon be his, and found his way into a shrine room. Shelves upon shelves of precious jewls and metals, fine fabrics and sculptures filled the room. Though the alter beneath the stained glass window held only sea glass and shells that glittered from around a poorly made tapestry that depicted a stormy ocean.

The threads were too loose in some places too tight in others and there were places where it was clear the weaver ran out of one color and had attempted to dye more only for it to come out just wrong enough to be noticed. It was clearly made by inexperienced hands and now stood displayed still in it's loom in the place of honor on this shrine. Pride in its existence radiated from it and that made it stunning despite it's flaws. 

Distantly, he felt the rich man die, quietly and peacefully.

One of Copper's aspects would guide him across and later while Copper slept he'd dream of the conversation that aspect and the rich man would have, and he would dream of the conversations his other, near innumerable, aspects would have, and have had, and have been having with every other human who has crossed into his domain since he last slept. Then he would wake, and forget almost everything said during those conversations as they meld together into a messy but beautiful tapestry. All the threads visible and traceable in their places but ultimately he saw it not for the individuals, but the grander thing they made together.

He picked at the stones and shells scattered on one of the shelves, his dulled claws scraping against the rough surface. He should probably go find someone to deal with the body…

The soft creaking protest of a floor board that no longer fit in it's place being tread on called from behind him. Copper turned, curious to who or what would be intruding on this moment, but he was left slack jawed with a greeting trapped behind his lips as he saw the man.

Surrounded by gold and silver and precious gems that glittered in the low moonlight that flowed through the windows, this man outshone them all. He was tall for a human, coming up to just below Copper's collar bones, with broad, strong looking shoulders. His sharp features highlighted by the silver light caressing his warm tan skin and haloed by that same light echoing through the broken strands of bleach blonde hair that fell from his neat bun to frame his narrow face.

Light agitation turned to wonder and awesrrucked silence as Copper struggled for a second to find words, but once again those words died when he met the man's eyes, they were probably a deep brown but the low light turned them onyx. His gaze was sturdy, not cold or calculating, not bored. Determined but practiced.

The strange, beutiful, human man wore the expression of a butcher or a slaughterer, he did not draw perverse pleasure or joy from what came next. He was so obviously merely doing a job as he moved faster than Copper's confusion addled mind could react to that that alone struck more fear into Copper's core than if the man were hissing and snapping with rage.

The ice hot cut of an iron blade dug past the flesh between his ribs and into his chest even as he recoiled. On pure instinct he growled an awful rumbling sound that made the butcher- the hunter, flinch as Copper managed to stumble away, nearly falling to one knee as his own lung struggled to inflate. He could feel his magic burning along the wound as it tried, and failed to pull it closed. His hand going to his bloodied side in a vain attempt of staunching the flow. 

The hunter advanced, cautious and silent, his blade, slicked with Copper's own viscous black blood, raised as he followed the retreating god.

Copper hissed as his back collided with a shelf, cornered he pulled his attentions together just enough to attempt to teleport away, only to feel his magic jolt painfully within him as it failed completely.

The hunter advanced, already readying another swing.

In that moment Copper forced himself to focus on the warm summer night air, on the flickering candles and the heat of the hunter's body, most seals could be overpowered, he just needs to rush it hard enough. 

Heat leaves the room, the hunter stumbles with a pained gasp as the heat leaves him too. Copper doesn't see if the hunter falls because the seal gives as he uses all of that stolen energy to burst against it.

He drops to his knees on the cold stone floor of the cave he calls home. His blood singing through magic seared veins, his hands shaking as he braces one against the floor below him as his world swims, both from blood loss and the disorientation that always came with pushing his power that hard,

He struggles with his wound, gasping with effort as his magic finally starts working again. The wound tieing itself closed beneath his palm, a thick black scar forming as he comes down from the mountain top high of fearing for his life for the very first time since before the advent of this universe.

Copper slumps against the water-carved wall of his home, his head falling back against it with a deep buzz running beneath his skin, and he Laughs, deep and hearty and Alive in a way he has not felt in centuries.

---

A day passed, and Copper's wound still ached every time he bent wrong, sending a pang through his chest as his heart picked up at the memory that accompanied it. Truly, he could only go a few moments without thinking of the death dealing adonis that had, very litteraly, struck him to his very heart. He needed to find the man again, to see if a second meeting would make his blood race the way the first had.

Perhaps he would even find out why he'd been attacked, but if Copper was being honest with himself, he didn't care to know. The Hunter was a mystery, and like many mysteries, he was one that could be enjoyed as is, and did not need unraveling quite yet. Still, Copper couldn't wait around for fate to bless him with a second chance meeting. He needed to find The Hunter on his own, and that meant doing a little investigating.

The moment Copper had had time to rest he laid in his bed and let his consciousness drift to the aspect that could interact with the grand tapestry. The Hunter had not hesitated for even a moment, had not flinched at spilling blood, and so there was no denying that he was experienced. That, perhaps, killing was something that either came easy to him or that he was very well practiced in the art of it.

The hunter was young, maybe mid twenties to early thirties, which narrowed his search, and the location narrowed it further. That valley was a hard month long trek through ice capped mountains from the next nearest settlement. The Hunter probably lived and prowled within its confines.

Copper focused on the last ten years worth of threads from that area that ended in white knots, the tragic, violent deaths. This would be where he found what he would need.

Going by date he gently tugged the ends through the weave so that he could examine them closer. He was careful to not pull anything more than an hours worth at a time, dreading upsetting the careful balance of the fabric and the places of the souls that he examined within it. It took a few tries, a few years worth of deaths until he found the first one that he could catch a glimpse of The Hunter from. 

And oh how Copper dreaded what he saw. Five years before he'd met the man, an older boy, maybe sixteen with sharp, fearful and wild, onyx eyes and short, jagged ink black hair cried with blood stained hands, one still holding a blade, the same one Copper would become familiar with, it was still slick with the red of human blood as the boy stumbled back against the wall as the man he'd just killed gasped his last breath.

Copper found the conversation he'd had with that spirit, a man who'd heard screaming from within a home. He'd gone to help only to be found by the Chief's boy before he could find the source of the screams. Copper had reassured him, had praised him for his bravery, had not paid enough attention. He'd guided the kind man to his afterlife while the chief's boy who would become The Hunter silently wept beside the man's body, struggling against the tears as someone called out for him. 

Tucking the tread back into place with one hand and pulling another free with the other. He grimaced when he realized it was merely a visitor's thread. Someone from Copper's own home universe who'd come into this one for one reason or another only to find their end here.

The visitor's soul had not been theirs to keep stored away amongst those of their creations and so had already been returned home. Where it would have dissipated into the background energy to eventually become the fuel for something new. No life was stored in this thread, it was merely a place holder.

Copper found more threads like that in his search, nearly twenty pale threads all from the last few years lined side by side. Tragic human deaths surrounding them but none of those human deaths involved The Hunter. That was odd, very few places in his tapestry looked so strange and knotted, and most patches that did were of wars and disasters not… whatever this was.

If he had been tangible in that moment he would've been nipping at his claws as he tried to piece together what something so strange could mean. But no answers came to him.

He found the next, and most recent, human victim of The Hunter, a man now, still too young, but undeniably a man by Copper's math, cold and stoney eyed, tangled bleached hair and a badly bruised and swelling jaw. Copper would have been surprised if The Hunter didn't have a few cracked or missing teeth from the injury, the mandible itself might be broken, a serious wound that needs setting and cleaning imeaditly. Copper's mind supplied him with the diagnosis without him meaning to think of it, so focused was he on that wrecked face and the lack of answers it presented that his mind tried to give him what few answers it could, even if those answers were worthless.

The woman The Hunter had killed had sat silent and glaring at The Hunter who silently watched her die,  his blade dripping with her blood. She'd not spoken a word to Copper. Fuming as she stormed through the gate without any guidance from him.

He wished he had insisted on actually speaking to her, on finding the answers. The iron eyed Hunter was a far cry from that sobbing boy, and yet they shared a thread.

More visitors, more tragedy, and no more answers came from the grand tapestry. 

He needed to return to that valley, surely if tragedy struck this often they'd welcome a healer? Even if they didn't, the Oracle made her home at the very center, and while Copper tried to avoid his sister's emissaries, The Oracle would be able to tell him what he needed if all else failed. Besides, her daughter was such a cute little thing, it would be a joy to hold a chubby baby again. Would the daughter still be a baby? maybe she was toddling about already, having her first little prophecies as she explored the world she would be entrusted to protect.

Oh Copper couldn't wait to visit.