#i wish to exist in a cloud of vapor.

[queenlua]

drinking & assembling furniture while listening to this podcast about how this one megachurch imploded big-time

the drinking & the podcast are great but BY GOD do i hate assembling furniture

AMA?

[unknownati]

vii. dreamin'

a/n: getting ekko high for the first time <333

i usually always see this fic the other way around but i js wanted to reverse it 🙌🏾 next few fics will prob be fluff to make up for my freakiness my fault yall

*typos do not exist to me anymore choosing peace ☮️🌿🌎 stay blessed hakuna matata

warnings/tags: black!fem!reader (again, just using aave but i usually have a black reader in mind 🤷🏾‍♀️), no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, slightly sub!ekko if you squint, modern!ekko, marijuana use, if the terms r wrong that's cuz i dont smoke im just a freak, shotgun kisses, contact high, hot boxing in the back of your car, grinding, riding, passionate asf, fluff and smut, ekko's in love with you real bad, ...breeding, this one's just nasty sorry guys 😕, also maybe a little ooc

______________________________________________

ekko gets high on the way you look when you smoke.

a blunt—a neatly packed backwood—between your glossy lips. watching the flame from your lighter dance around illuminate your features with a golden light. the frayed end catches, glowing briefly before dissipating as you take the first pull, the cloud of smoke swirling around you, it was a sight for sore eyes.

ekko always watches in silence, the thick vapor settling in his lungs. he's definitely gotten contact high before, feeling the edges of his muscles relax ever so slightly a few minutes after you spark up.

this time was no different, of course.

he’d planned the night with excitement, he always did after realizing he wasn’t taking you out as often as he’d like. monthly dates; something to make up for it. he had no doubt this one was the date of all dates.

this time, he hit you with the, “i know a spot,” but insisted it had to be your car. no question. you didn’t mind—not like you were driving, anyway.

the place he drove you to could only be described as breathtaking. you were parked perched on a cliff overlooking a lake, moonlight glittering off of the water. waterfalls cascaded in the distance, crashing down on the water in a gentle purr. twinkling fairy lights hung from the trees, casting a soft glow around the area. you gasped in fascination, the cutest, "there's more!" replacing your expression with a smile.

he clicked a button on the car fob, the trunk clicking open. your eyes widen upon finding a picnic was laid out in perfect simplicity.

"how'd you hide this from me?" you marvel, crawling into the trunk. ekko snickers.

"you don't carry anything to your trunk."

"is this why you needed my car?"

"yeah, your trunk's actually able to be sat in."

you pout in adoration. "you're so cute," you thank him with a peck to his cheek.

__________________________________________

nearing the end of the night, the two of you migrated to the backseat, r&b nearly whispering in the background. in your search for a phone charger, you found a half-smoked blunt on the ash tray in your car.

"look at god," you grinned, settling back down and tugging a cheetah-print lighter out of your pocket, igniting the burnt end. closed windows jail the smoke inside the car walls, so when you exhaled the smoke it immediately flooded his nostrils. he coughed, a light chuckle overlapping his sputters.

"sorry," you whispered half-heartedly, resting your wrist against your knee. you catch his gaze, the arch of your brow raising. "you want a hit?"

"what?" he croaked after a beat. your arm straightens to offer the blunt to him. "...nah, i don't even know how."

"you forreal?" you snicker. "...want me to teach you?" consideration; then hesitation. his lips twist. "you don't have to if you don't want to."

eventually, his shoulders raise and fall and he murmurs 'i'll try,' your body already excitedly scooting closer to him the moment he shrugged.

"yay! okay, so all you wanna do is jus'...relax 'n inhale. don't suck, inhale. slow and steady."

he nods, half-lidded eyes following your hand as you brought the blunt to his plump lips. you wished you could get that image permanently tattoo'd on your lids. ekko takes a moment to register your instructions and inhales, yet he bails last second, tearing it from his mouth and coughing into his elbow. you can see smoke exiting his nostrils in tendrils with each cough, though.

"you almost got it!" you laugh, proud.

"yeah but—" he gets interrupted by his cough, his brows furrowing. "the taste—"

"you can taste it?" you question, intrigued.

"i think?"

hearing the giggle that filled the walls of the car while you took the blunt back from him made embarrassing himself a little more worth it.

"you looked good as fuck though," you praise.

"did i really?"

"yeah, but when do you not?"

a cool chuckle leaves his lips. "you right."

silence falls between you for a moment before a lightbulb flickers alive in your head.

"got an idea," you announce, shifting your weight closer toward him again. you bring the blunt back to your lips, taking a long pull that almost makes you pass out. your free thumb presses into his lip, prying his lips ajar.

leaning into his space, you blew the smoke into his mouth. he completed the kiss, eyes fluttering closed. searching hands immediately found purchase on your waist to pull your weight into his lap. you grind down into him, coaxing a moan out of him that has immediately has you soaked, pushing down into him again and again.

blood immediately starts rushing down and up at the same time. his dick pokes at your thigh and you laugh, surprised at how quick you got him worked up.

his hands creep up your wielding wrist, tugging the backwood toward his lips.

"tryin' again?" your head tilts, hips not halting their slow winding movements. ekko nods, peeking down at your hand as he draws air in. withdrawing, his head leans back and smoke fogs around the two of you.

"you did it baby, good. fast learner."

the slow drawl of your voice seeped into his ears and directly into his bloodstream.

he started to understand why you smoked so often. the euphoric high was rushing to his head and making his breath hitch, yet he wasn't sure if it was from you or the weed. his hips push up to meet yours.

"i need you so bad," he gasps huskily, pawing at your top.

"shiiiit, that's all you had to say."

you tug your shirt off, shifting awkwardly as you remove your pants before settling back into his lap. he pulls off his shirt at the same time, both of your clothes discarded carelessly into the front seat. you lean down to avoid straining your neck against the roof, but the kiss lingers so long that it didn't seem to matter.

you shift in his lap, gliding closer towards his knees. your hands dance down from his shoulder, fingertips gliding along scar-riddled skin. the trail of white hair tracking down from his naval to the hem of his pants was tantalizing, a sight you don't think you'll ever grow sick of. you absentmindedly stick your hand in his boxers and tug his length out, closing your fist around the tip. his abs quiver when you stroke along it.

you both hold your breath as you lift your hips, a featherlight grasp on the base of the head guiding him towards your core. his weeping tip presses against your clit before sliding towards your entrance. eventually you're sinking down, slow, torturous. two relieved exhales spew out, a silent 'finally' from the both of you.

"y'feel so good, firefly." he murmurs, brows tightly knitted together as you relax on your knees. his hands cup the sides of your ass, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

you lean onto his shoulder, rising slow and falling hard.

"shit," you mewl, grinding your hips into him. his hands fly to your hips, his own unintentionally jerking up to meet yours halfway.

you take another hit of the blunt, transporting the smoke to ekko's mouth as you kiss him. the car rocks with your desperate movements, windows fogging.

when you pull away, his glassy eyes dart down to watch where you two connect. you grab his chin and make him face you.

"you're like a fuckin' angel," you punctuate your words with a shaky hand gliding up the back of his buzzed head, white locks tangling in between your digits. "wish i could stay like this forever."

he smiles, though you barely see it when your eyes screw shut. the tip of his dick hits a spot that sends a burst up your spine and you straighten up, your crown thunking against the car roof.

you hear an amused laugh and you scowl. his hand immediately presses against the back of your neck and pulls you down. your sweaty foreheads bump together, eye contact struggling to become a possibility when yours keep rolling back.

for a moment, time slows down. your fingers fumble, dropping your blunt on the rubber mat lining your car floor. your hand meets his chest and you bounce on him, hungered and impatient. whines and groans bounce off the windows, your unoccupied hand patting around to find ekko's hand. clammy fingers intertwine; you squeeze, tight.

"gonna cum, fuck—love you so fuckin' much," you whisper, warm breath tickling his nose. he flashes you a smile and a groan takes it's place. the hand that once graced the back of your neck moved and his arm wraps around your waist, chests pressing against each other.

"i love you too," he whispers back, pressing his lips your collarbone. that phrase was all you needed, your eyes squeezing shut, your tongue stuttering his name and chanting it like a prayer. your hips falter as you reach your climax.

after catching your breath, you push ekko's arm off of you and brace yourself on his shoulders. rise, fall, rise, fall; you find your pacing again to bring him to completion. your foreheads don't separate for a moment, except for when you kiss.

"i'm...fuck—" he can barely get his words out, his muscles a wobbly jello beneath his skin. "close, baby. i'm so close."

it's a warning, but you don't get off of him. you just ride him faster and his groans lace into whines, a trembling hand weakly tapping your thigh.

"fuck, baby i said—"

your walls tightly squeeze around him and you do nothing but stare at him. "i heard you."

he swears he felt his soul exit and reenter his body in those few moments.

his head tosses back against the headrest, struggling to keep his desperate moans contained as he releases inside you, warmth flooding your insides.

when he comes down from his (orgasmic) high, you still don't get off, feeling him slowly grow soft inside of you. your head weakly falls onto his shoulder.

"...i'm tired," he comments.

"i'm hungry," you emphasize, twisting a loc between your fingers. he chuckles; you just ate. you're not joking.

after a moment of silence, which you presume is from him thinking, you hear him speak up. "you ARE on birth control, right?"

"...no," you admit.

he sucks air through his teeth. "damn."

"bad damn or 'oh well' damn?"

"'oh well' damn.'"

a beat. "...random, but you know when i first met you, i thought you were a stud lesbian?"

"yeah get off me."

[lensdeer]

I wish vaping's* health effects were better understood :<

flow-of-consciousness rambling below the cut. (TL;DR I'm annoyed at the moral panic and have personally seen it be good* for people quitting nicotine, but non-smokers probably shouldn't pick it up, which annoyingly includes me)

So far signs point to it* being significantly less harmful than smoking in the areas where smoking does the most damage, and there's both anecdotal and proper evidence of it* being a highly effective tool to quit nicotine and eventually smoking/vaping at all. It's* likely a net positive/good alternative for smokers with an established nicotine habit who don't feel comfortable quitting cold turkey or have failed to quit using other tools.

Bbbbbbut I'm not a smoker! I don't even remotely enjoy nicotine! I'm just autistic and the specific act of blowing clouds of smoke/vapor is a fucking UNPARALLELED stim for me, and all the "use your mouth for something else" alternatives don't do it for me (I mean I do like hard candy but it's for different reasons y'know?)

I was forced to learn a lot about vaping in 2018 bc of my ex (and I've loosely kept track of developments since then bc I find the hobbyist/diy side interesting), so I know harm reduction and how all the ingredients and components work and how to properly store/handle this shit safely etc etc etc. I'm like 90% sure casual light usage of well maintained hobbyist hardware with unflavored actually nicotine-free liquids and proper harm reduction practices would be fine enough for my non-smoker ass*, so I should know enough to make an informed decision that won't bite me in the ass later, right?

Buuuuut obviously emotionally there's the whole tobacco-planted moral panic + rationally there's the "smoking itself used to be publicized as good for you and you're not immune to propaganda so you should err on the side of caution" part of the issue, right? Like, I've had 6 years to get into this stuff since I first tried it, and I haven't, and I won't, bc I know that even though it's* likely fine there aren't enough long-term studies to be fully sure! And I know that even when those studies do come out they'll say as a non-smoker I'm obviously better off not picking it up!

...And yet I yearn for the cloud stimmies :c the accursed sensorial white whale will forever keep eluding my grasp :c

*: (Using safely produced liquids** on clean and well maintained high-quality hardware with safely and carefully handled batteries. """Pods""" and the landfill-ready disposable shit that's become popular lately should not exist.)

**: I'm not as well informed on THC liquids so I can't speak for those, but last I heard they were still Kind Of Messy bc of temp requirements or something?

***: Yes, none of it should be advertised or sold to children; hell, nothing at all should be advertised for anyone anywhere ever anyways, but I digress.

[objectumconfessional]

i think clouds are so neat!! don't you ever see some big fluffy clouds like cumulus or cumulonimbus and just wish u could lay in them like big fluffy pillows. like yes i know it's just water vapor and would be so cold but what if i lived in fantasy land where clouds can hug me. what then. also: thunderstorms!! when i see massive clouds i wish i could fly (and be immune to the cold and lightning and other problems) and just Exist inside of those big clouds, i want to know what it would feel like to be surrounded by them and just float there

[sunflowernyx]

Chapter 1 I New Chapter

“I don’t know what’s crazier…”

Mulder leans in, chest to steering wheel, and squints through the window. There’s a crossing somewhere around here, he knows, but—

Lights appear out of the heavy fog and he slams the breaks hard enough both he and Scully bounce in their seats.

Stupid heatwave.

“Driving in this damn fog,” Scully continues, gasping and grabbing at her seatbelt. “Or going on a wild quest to really prove aliens exist. Mulder, that was a green light!”

She turns in her seat, her hair flying out wildly. She is furious.

“Says the woman with the telepathic child,” he counters cheekily to direct from his mishap.

“We are not talking about psychic abilities here,” she snaps. “Why are you stopping?”

All around them the world is draped in white. The snow hasn’t entirely evaporated from lawns and side-walks yet, but it’s a close thing. All the vapor hangs in the suddenly much warmer air, the contrast brought on by what he can only assume is an unnatural heatwave. Climate change.

Winters never used to be dangerous like this.

“You know, the interesting thing about you, Scully?” He asks, misdirecting from his colour-blindness once more as he starts up the motor again. “When you have definitive proof of something you no longer treat it as extraordinary or fantastical.”

She turns her face away and he wishes it was safe enough to follow the motion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffs. “I’d still like to catalogue it. But I’m not going to put her through an MRI at her age. And that still doesn’t prove the rest of your, frankly, outrageous claims.”

“Which is why,” he says, safely sliding into a parking lot two blocks from their actual destination and singing, “we’re here.”

He waves Scully around to the back of the car, and they each done one of two backpacks he intends to fill with evidence and paperwork.

The lid of the trunk falls, the lock clicks, and Mulder pats his pocket one last time to check that the stiletto is safely within his reach before waving her along across to the building on the other side of the street.

The fog weaves between trees and buildings, covering cars and eating at the edges of the world, leaving the sensation that no one else exists, that all that is left in the world is ghosts.

Mulder hates it.

He prefers the howling winds and confrontational frost of New England. Here the cold creeps in slowly, through cracks and openings, and the heat seeps out — like water he cannot hold in his hands.

It causes an oppressive silence that is difficult, if not impossible to break, so that even Scully remains a silent shadow amongst the clouds.

It’s the gunmen that saves him.

A screech like a broken fax runs through his ear, and Mulder almost jumps out of his skin.

“— you there, Mulder?”

“Jesus!” He exclaims, tugging the ear-piece momentarily away from himself.

Scully jumps and Mulder waves the tech at her.

“Are you trying to make me deaf, guys?” He demands, stuffing it back into his ear.

“It’s this fog, Mulder,” Byers explains. “It’s weakening the connection.”

“So much for modern technology,” Mulder mutters darkly.

Beside him, Scully smiles.

“Or,” Frohike jumps in. “Next time pick a better day to impress your chickadee.”

“Shut up, Frohike!”

“Ouch. She that pretty?”

“No—“ he stops himself, glances at Scully and amends. “Yes, but that’s not the point. I didn’t predict the fog and the blockers are already up. Do you want them to be found?”

“Of course not,” comes Langley’s drawl. “So get to it, Casanova.”

Mulder shakes his head and is glad for his own inability to remember two headsets so Scully can only hear his side of the conversation - and she doesn’t seem that interested.

She’s lifting her head to take in the fertility clinic once more as it comes into view across the parking lot.

Out front where it faces the rest of Germantown, Zeus Genetics is a shining golden block of concrete, lit up like a beacon of hope for the future. But at the back it is a hulking shadow that breaks apart the white mist and draws grey lines into the world. A pair of cars remain parked outside, but otherwise there is no sign of life.

“That’s the plan,” he sighs.

In his right ear Byers lists the cameras they have to be aware of to the background rhythm of Langley’s typing, breaking apart the buildings security from the inside.

“Looks like this mist is both a blessing and a curse.”

“Come on, guys,” Mulder says, while Scully taps her foot impatiently at the door.

The light by the key turns green.

“And voila,” Frohike crows.

Mulder’s hand finds her back and the door closes behind them.

Continue reading here

[m1ckeyb3rry]

OK ARYU’S SUPER SPEED SKIM I’m ngl this is longer than I expected because I again failed to continue actually summarizing instead of transcribing some parts so it’s like half summary half verbatim oops. Anyways I did this one a lot more quickly to lmk if anything is off and apologies in advance if it’s kinda messy LOL I went through many mixed emotions doing this one LMAO

-Karasu anon

Aryu summaries

1- Antique:

Aryu lives in an old fashioned styled house surrounded by nature. His parents are easy going. One nice day, his mother wears a pink dress while holding his hand. She sometimes looks over to him and smiles lightly. Upon entering their house, you’ll be greeted by all the tatami in their house. They return home to his father ripping a bong. Aryu thinks the vapor that exits his mouth looks like clouds. His father has long hair that reaches the middle of his back and also has an easy going smile. His father travels the world, collecting odd souvenirs and trinkets like a cursed panel he got from an old man running a souvenir shop. He likes telling stories about all the items he gets. Their house also serves as an antique shop. They section off a part of the room on weekends and sell odd bone wares. The things they sell are rather priceless, they aren’t high end or particularly valuable. They have things like an old backpack, a stained glass lamp, etc. But each item has its own story. Aryu sits on his mother’s lap listening to his father’s tales. He thinks his father is cool. His father likes finding beauty in life and narrates them via tales. He often told Aryu stories about these items while smoking. Aryu loved these moments and grew to be accustomed to being surrounded by beauty (based off the things his father had picked out and called beautiful). Everything that he could see or touch had beauty in it. But in the end, he didn’t like antiques. His clothes were all old, and his toys were all things from other countries that might’ve already been used by who knows what. It was all weird. One time, his father had brought him a vintage Hawaiian shirt. And a wooden horse used by France’s nobility. Being told that, Aryu hated it even more. It’s old, dirty, and lame. He’d heard adults say that their house had been renovated and was designed to look a bit odd and old, but it was cold in the winters and bugs easily flew in in the summer. His friends’ houses were new and clean. Winters were warm and summers were kept cool. They get lots of toy cars and colorful blocks to play with, watching fun anime on TV. He also wanted shiny new things, he came to strongly desire them. In the process, he had come to hate the oldest, so old you could almost smell it, thing he had: his name. His friends had names like Ren or Hart, but the name Jyubei made it sound like he had just walked out of an ancient folk tale. He wish he had a cooler name, but of course, he’d never say that to his parents. His father was always kind and his mother looked so happy by his side. They glittered in their own way of life, and Aryu existed between them. But as the four seasons passed and changed, he embraced the wind that blew into the house. He had loved those peaceful days. In his childhood, he lived in a beautiful old fashioned world, peacefully and happily.

2-The Birth of Osha:

Aryu was now in elementary school. His father had encouraged him to use the old backpack he brought back from that one museum, telling him how it was finally time to crack out that bad boy. His father had told him about the history. He couldn’t remember a single fact as of right now. But his father looked really happy so he decided to suck it up and use it. Wearing an old shirt and carrying the old backpack on his back he quickly became the center of attention in his class. His long black hair certainly didn’t help with him being labeled anything other than an eccentric either. His classmates had asked if he had come from abroad in a teasing tone. Wearing their new shirts and clothes, they made fun of him, asking him if he had been born in the wrong era. A both with a shiny blue backpack and snot dribbling out of his nose had firmly hit his backpack. Like his easy going parents, he hadn’t gotten mad before. As expected, though, he had gotten mad in the moment, but he didn’t know what to do. In the end, he could only remain silent. With worries troubling him, he had returned home from school. His father, who had been doing shop business, had noticed his long face and asked him what was wrong. Aryu started to respond but trailed off. He wanted to tell him how he didn’t actually like old items and wanted shiny new things. But he didn’t want to reject the things his father called beautiful, and instead responded with a “Nevermind, nothing happened.” He went to his room and placed his backpack on his desk, thinking. Next time he got teased, he would hit them back with a nasty glare to scare them off. He’d confidently tell them to cut it out.

The next day, he got teased again. It seems he had gained the nickname “Time Slipper”, as if he had slipped through the fine continuum and landed in the wrong era. The boys from yesterday continued to bully him relentless. And to that, he lifted his hair up, side eyeing them, remembering what he told to himself last night. “Do you have complaints against ME?” He had begun to refer to himself with a powerful ME. It evoked a sense of superiority, and he wondered if he laid it on too thick. Everyone stared at him and he wondered if his plain had failed. After a pregnant silence, people had finally spoken up, calling him cool and interesting. It hadn’t been exactly what he was expecting, why were they so happy? In the blink of an eye, he went from being bullied to being swarmed out of popularity. It seems that in reality, everyone was a bit curious about Aryu. He was cool like an adults, and his items seemed exotic as if there were from some sort of fantasy game. When asked about the origins of his backpack, he’d retell the stories his father told him (like how his backpack was originally used as a drum). His classmates were impressed by his father’s stories, and his old backpack seemingly sparkled and shone. The stories of his old items had made him shine in the eyes of his classmates. He began to address himself with that “royal” ME everywhere. He’d stage out obvious facts using the same tone, announcing when he was going to the bathroom or getting curry; it made people laugh and school became fun. He had grown up around beautiful things, and now the beautiful stories resonated in his classmates’ hearts. Aryu, however, had refrained from using the word beautiful. It was his father’s treasured word after all he wanted to find his own word to use. One beyond beautiful.

One day he was telling his classmates a story about his antiques as usual. This time it was a pouch that he used as a pencil case before he might’ve wanted his friends new pouches, but now, he had genuinely been interested in his own. “Yes, this item is truly…! Truly…” He couldn’t think of what word to use. But it was like a revelation suddenly hit him. As his classmates listened anticipation, stood up and spread out his arms. He struck a pose, lifting his knee up, and it was like he was standing amongst the stars in a galaxy, surrounded by all the planets, with big letters in the Roman alphabet spelling OSHA. He had found his own word to use: Osha, derived to the word stylish, but without the extra RE at the end. His classmates were awed. They weren’t really sure what just happened, but it was cool and interesting. Soon, his osha-pose had become a trend that went viral at school.

3-Osha Living Style

Thus began Aryu’s way of living, always aiming to achieve Osha. Everything could be divided into Osha and Not Osha. He had categorized everything in life according to this convention. When he was 10, he played soccer for the first time in class. He hadn’t expected it to be such an Osha sport. On top of that, he was already 170 cm and had incredible jumping power. He had good athletic genes and was fast too. He quickly became the best striker on class. To him, he was the most Osha on field. When he turned 12, he had a significant turning point. The class had been assigned to think about their future. His classmates gave various answers, like being a manga artist or pro-gamer. Aryu kept wondering about what kinda of life, what kind of osha he wanted to live out. He realized now that his father seemed rather Osha. He flew around the world collecting things he liked and meeting different people, living freely while sparkling in his own way. He thought that a job where he could attract the attention of many people, like that day he created Osha, would be good. He had concluded that he wanted to be a musician, a rockstar. Then, he’d be able to live freely, fly around the world, and make an impact. He soon bought himself a guitar. After all, he couldn’t talk the talk but not walk the walk. To let his dream live on, he earnestly practiced and even wrote his own songs. He’d sing his heart out practicing in the woods in the middle of the night where he wouldn’t disturb anyone. For the sake of his dream, he worked hard.

When he became a middle schooler, he was nicknamed “The Beautiful Giant.” He had a face like a schedule and a dynamic build. He was completely Osha. But one day, something that would send his hopes and dreams straight into hell occurred. It was the night he completed his first song. He had shed blood, sweat, and tears forming the lyrics and melody. It was titled “BEANUS” (a play on words, Venus is pronounced Bi-nus, and Bi happens to be the pronunciation for the word Beautiful too). His band would be called O.S.HA (an acronym for I’ll flap my wings to the fullest to fly to you), although he was both guitarist and vocalist. In his mind, he had established a large fan base who would thus be “Osha lovers” to whom he’d blow kisses to. But when he listened to the recording of his own song, he was disgusted. What the hell was this? Everyone could see that he had grown up surrounded by beauty and lived by Osha, so how had he created such an ugly song? It was so vile he had gagged and thrown up in the woods. His parents had noticed him and run to his side. At his own lack of talent, tears began to flow. At his own regret and “not-osha”, he had stayed home from school and slept for three days. He had continued crying in his bed, sometimes thinking of the song he wrote and getting so disgusted he’d throw up again, making his parents panic. He wouldn’t let anyone hear that song, deciding to bury it in the past.

4-To The Path of Buddha

Aryu was now 14. He couldn’t be an Osha musician. Giving into the heartache, he threw his frustration into the soccer club. He was always Osha on field, and strong too. He’d never lost any midair battle. He’s tall and has long limbs, his physique has allowed him to easily steal the ball. People who skipped practice were Not Osha, and Aryu earnestly practiced day by day. Because of that, his stamina and technique became top class, he had no doubts about it. He’d win by scoring Osha goals. He played a very active role, and his mentality had started to influence his teammates. They had even started incorporating Osha into their own vocabulary. They had respected his Osha plays. His team had grown stronger with him. But of course, things were not always so happy. Sometimes, when they had practice matches, the opposing team would take one look at him and lose all motivation to play. They’d thought that there was no way they’d win against a huge guy like him. Aryu paid them no mind, however, a sharp voice suddenly told them to cut it out. The captain of the opposing team, Ooki Taishi, had told them off, saying it was lame to find excuses and bad mouth the opposing team. They were to do their best using their own plays and to test out the things they had practiced against Aryu’s team. After that lecture, the opposing team started to feel more energized. With Aryu’s overwhelming height and strength, and Ooki’s nice saves, the practice match ended up being quite the heated game. In the end, the score was 0-3, Aryu had scored a hat trick. Ooki had stood taller than anyone else and loudly thanked Aryu’s team. Aryu had went to shake his hand, telling him that “It was an honor to fight against someone as Osha as you.” Ooki had returned his handshake, but had no idea what that meant. He was happy regardless. Aryu had become a person that both his enemies and allies grew to like. But even all that couldn’t heal the pain of having his dream of being a rockstar crushed. He wanted to travel the world and become famous. He wanted to be someone who could influence the lives of others. In order to fulfill that, what should he do? What options had even remained after his music dreams had been crushed? He had constantly worried about that.

His father was now traveling overseas so he ran the shop with his mom. He had gone to help her with tidying the place. It was a practice free Sunday. The shop had been filled with the beautiful, old, and intriguing things that his Dad had brought back. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a Buddha statue his father had collected. He had truly thought it was beautiful. He usually hated old things, so why had he liked the statue? He remembers when his dad had took him to a temple when he was five. His heart has been captured by its beauty. He did never forget that moment. Thinking about that moment, now still makes his heart squeeze. Maybe the answer to his problems was the path to Buddha. He quickly ran to that temple, dashing along the mountain road. He had bowed down on the floor, asking to be taught the way of Buddha. He was met with a surprise, head priest. One minute he was cleaning and the next beautiful boy was on the ground with his head on the floor. He had thought he was a little weird, but he was earnest with a beautiful heart. He had taken him in to teach him. Finding a kimono that fit him proved difficult, so he wore his mother’s old dresses. In his free time, he would read books of Buddha’s teachings. He had thought he had found his true calling. He had forgiven the dark history of his that was his aspiring musician phase. He now wanted to become a monk. To do so he would have to cut his hair off, though holding scissors in one hand he held his hair in the other, his hair had already grown longer than his father, reaching to his thigh. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he wasn’t able to cut his hair. His hands were shaking and his breathing ragged. Finally, the scissors fell from his hands. He couldn’t do it. When he imagines himself bald, his fingers freeze up. He once again blamed himself, wondering if he wasn’t able to live by the Osha philosophy. The path to Buddha had closed. This marked his second setback. The next day he channeled his frustration into a soccer match successfully scoring seven goals and getting his team into the national tournament.

5- I’LL Shine

He was now 15, a third year in middle school. He had to choose where he wanted to go to high school, but unlike the rest of his classmates, he didn’t have a dream for his future. The setbacks from his encounter with music and Buddha, both of which he had originally been so sure of, had left him, unsure of how to proceed. When the teacher asked what his dream was for the future, he still wasn’t able to answer. His future was completely dark, he couldn’t see anything in it. Maybe this was the end of Osha. Maybe living by Osha was just a fleeting dream. He had been questioning himself and his identity. After much worrying, he decided to consult his father who had just returned home. He asked him how he should proceed with his future. He hadn’t made any progress since he had received that assignment when he was 12. His father then suggested, “Why not do soccer?” While taking another smoke, his father had answered with ease. Aryu let out a confused noise. His father thought it was only natural, since he was so good. Heck, he might even get a recommendation. “If you do soccer, you can fill all of your Osha requirements, can’t you?” Aryu was left dumbfounded. His mother walked in and added on. If he had become a professional soccer player, he would have activities and countries all around the world, and be supported by lots of people. After all this time, he had been the most Osha on the soccer field. he had once dreamed of screaming fans as a rockstar, but he failed to realize that he already had boys looking up to his soccer skills and fan girls cheering for him. Soccer, which he had worked so hard in, could be his answer. Without any doubts, for the first time, he had an answer. With newfound resolution, he was determined to continue playing soccer. In the end, he joined the soccer club at a famous school in Tochigi called Gokou High School.

He was now a highschooler. In his new team, his post plays and mid-aie battles had been up to par. However, he was lacking everywhere else. With his teammates aiming for the nationals tournament, he wasn’t able to become a regular at first. Sitting on the bench, he still had a long way to go to become the most Osha on the field. He wasn’t perfect. There were parts of him that weren’t Osha. That’s why he wished to live by Osha. And that’s why he dedicates himself to soccer, giving his entire high school career to it. In hopes of someday achieving the sparkling and lively life his parents live, he puts his all into soccer. Just like he isn’t perfect, other people are perfect either. What you see on the surface of their lives isn’t everything. Even his Not Osha past constitutes the Osha self that he is now. Even now, he doesn’t like his old and traditional name, but it’s a part of him. You shouldn’t give up what’s important to you to someone else. He wants to live acknowledging other people’s cherished things. He sits crossed leg in front of a mirror, talking to his reflection. Striking a pose, he doesn’t hesitate to reassure himself. “I am shining”, he says. And to that Aryu, a letter from the Japanese Football Union had been sent. “To the Blue Lock”. Aryu Jyubei’s path to Osha continues.

HELP i’m so conflicted this is somehow so emotional in the dumbest possible way 😭 aryu is too silly

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Ive been hitting a block recently when it comes to the MDZS fic I've been writing. But I was outside and saw the clouds today and was inspired to jot some thoughts, so to speak.

So here's a little unedited piece of fancy

The Tragedy of The Raindrop

Does anyone ever consider the tragedy of the raindrop?

You are vaporous and ethereal, surrounded by a smattering of your kin,yet a migration of billions. The sun to warm you, the stars to light you, and the moon to dance with.

You start to love. The ones closest to you grow closer. You learn to dance with them. You rejoice in the twinkling stars and sacred light. Should you wish you could reach out, and be reached to in return. Stars whirling overhead and loved ones beside you.

Then all those ones around you become closer; it's suffocating. No longer do you dance with the moon or are lit by stars. The warmth of sol is foreign. You are crushed together with the ones you once loved, the ones you still love yet are damning you with their weight. You resent them yet hate yourself for it because you can see: All the others crowding in on those special ones of yours, they cannot help but burden you, their strength is failing as is.

But… they lean on you over and over and over and over… you are always so heavy. And you watch as they continue to weigh you down and your traitorous heart cries ‘why must you do this to us? Can't you be a little stronger? Can you not see the strain of our arms and the hunch of our back? Why do you hurt us? Please… I cannot carry your weight anymore…’ Yet you persevere.

You hold the weight of your own society on your shoulders, carrying it on your back, silent in your torment.

You live in that limbo for countless dusks. Merely drifting. You forget the feeling of the stars. The heat of the sun. Or how to dance with lune.

And you forget what it was like to be weightless, and what unrestrained joy felt like. You forget everything but what is.

Life is a white purgatory and you cannot remember the life you lived to be sent there.

And you fall.

For a moment your betrayer of a heart weeps in relief singing ‘finally, finally they cannot weigh me down anymore’.

The world is beautiful. You can see the sky once more. Brilliant celestial bodies greet you and you weep to see such precious gods again. For a moment you exist, a heathen finding God again, dear, lovely precious salvation.

Then you see the ground. You die to live, but when you live you die.

To die is pain, but to be forgotten agony. You find solace in the family still above you in the heavens, knowing they will remember you. Perhaps even regret what pain they caused you. Even not, they will still remember.

As you hit the earth, for a split moment you see the sky once more. You are destroyed, last thought one of detached horror.

Your family hurtles towards their death. All your pain in vain. Nothing of you will survive. They will not survive. You have already been forgotten.

Who would mourn for the rain?

[mamamittens]

Fun little AU Nikia ideas while I pretend like it's not 2 AM and I should be asleep 😃

Just for clarification, OG Nikia right now is a very introverted elite ranger who lives in a cabin on a mountain in perpetual winter with giant ass wings by nature and a devil fruit to alter her size (whole or in parts).

Summer Isle AU, Nikia is a life guard beach babe who talks to no one because the only change here is she prefers summer and is okay existing around other people lol (Thatch suffers because there's only so many times he can pretend to drown well enough to fool her before he gets slapped clear to Impel Down and he's not scoundrel enough to do it but really wants to be personally saved by an 'angel'). No devil fruit because how you gonna rescue people in the ocean if you're a drowning risk yourself???

Spa AU Nikia where she's got a different devil fruit and doesn't hate the thought of touching strangers so much. So she works in the spas with her 'dream sheep' devil fruit that puts people to sleep with weird (occasionally prophetic) dreams. Hair is a fluffy, curly cloud when active and she kicks like a mule. Still has her wings but they put off cloud vapor like crazy. Very easily blends with clouds when flying.

Mermaid AU Nikia where shes basically half mermaid. Unsure what her wings would be... Either more like fins or covered in feathery filaments. As much as I like moon jellyfish (not sure how I'd accomplish that one specifically), as well as tetras, there's simply no funnier option than flying fish. Though I'd be tempted to do an eel or octopus as well just for shenanigans like stealing things when someone looks away or excessive cuddling for fluff. Preferably something venomous for added danger lol (Thatch would face many fishy allegations and beat none of them in this au).

Star fruit AU where she's still antisocial on the mountain but with a devil fruit that enables her to make stars. Enjoys casting them into the night sky and making her own light, not fond of the dark in this AU. Her eyes have stars in them that glow and she doesn't tell anyone but she can make wishing stars. Sometimes little stars get stuck in her hair and wings cause they don't wash out, they have to be physically removed by hand. For fun, she'll give herself freckles. Thatch gets to suffer from how cute it all is but will not be complaining, most agree with him.

Marine AU where the job market of her island (not the sister Summer and Winter Isles) is so bad the only real paying jobs are civilian contractor for the marine base nearby. Too out of the way to get 'real' Marines but still too close to an important trade route to go unguarded. There's a volcano on the island that's getting closer to blowing every year as the inhabitants scramble to earn enough money to live elsewhere, the government no help at all. Due to the shitty economy and frequent earthquakes, most buildings are especially vulnerable to strong forces, making everyone very nervous when the only real marine on base manages to catch and imprison a pirate. A Whitebeard Commander specifically. Nikia ends up as his guard and openly admits she's just waiting for his crew to arrive before he 'escapes' so her home can remain standing a little longer. Of course, things go awry and she ends up getting pretty badly injured protecting Thatch from the worst of the building falling apart. He can't just let that go, so it looks like she gets to leave sooner than expected. Not sure if she still has wings in this one. I want her to though...

Obligatory O/B/A. She doesn't have a devil fruit in this one, and I run wild with some less porn-specific ideas for how dynamics work. She's an omega but effectively lives as a beta with what I call 'puppy heats' every few months. It's the urge to nest, hoard resources, and occasionally cuddle people she's close to without any real need for sex. So none of that 'slick' or mindless lusting (as fun as it is to read, I'll fully admit). Less severe than full blown heats, hence the odd term. Her cabin is effectively her nest, and she's a bit... Brutal defending it from outside threats, particularly around her heat. Tends to molt before her heat and knows how bad it's going to be by how the molting goes. Lots of sleepy cuddles in this one. And yes, I imagine Thatch has at least strong alpha tendencies if he's not an alpha. I have a type and I'm only a little ashamed about that.

[xaviorjoyce]

I attempt to believe that my vapors rest in the clouds, that they will crystallise and sprout the plains with vegetation. I wish for the weight to be out of my hands, but these keratin gloves venn with my own.

I recognise its weight, but not its texture – it is so native yet it is so alien. The sun hides his face behind the clouds, yet his teeth grit the ozone of my back. My canvassed figure kissed with the lashes of a lover.

It burns – but to be affected is to be beautiful. I wish to be affected, but all I am is Old Testament divinity. I fear to be affected. To be affected is to exist. My skin does not exist, yet it coddles my palm.

[krnjcbs]

"Becoming Oracle", 2023 Video of sitzbath performance, 10'20''

Becoming Oracle documents the performance of a sitzbath ritual (that i performed in the woods behind the academy of fine arts Nuremberg) and combines it with a text about the struggles I have with the neospiritual movement of modern witchcraft.

Below I translated the subtitles from German to English:

The high priestess talks to me. tall, wise and powerful

The high priestess looks beyond the veil for me.

Clouded in smoke my view becomes transfigured.

The fragrance of the herbs enters my lungs

and searches for its place inside of me.

Even if not now, soon i will be a witch Healing vapors make their way beneath my skirt

penetrate me,

moisturize my mucous membrane

and heal me from all evil.

The toad cozies up inside my uterus 

curls up and solidifies in pleasure. It is in peace and will not drive me to hysterics anymore.

How do I connect to a tradition that doesn’t really exist? The wish for spirituality is a grasping for straws.

Am removed from all witches.

Desire for supernatural power simply an expression of my female powerlessness.

I feel impotent.

On the lookout.

Want to become a witch,

but can’t find a crone to teach me.

Witchcraft as science, but the sources are unreliable.

Seized by right-wing ideology and pseudo-myths,

I don’t have a clear view.

The veil isn’t lifting,

I thought I could be oracle.

I am disgusted with hypocritical witches on the internet.

Feigned enlightenment as proof of their superiority.

Cultural practices are being hand-picked, stripped, alienated and violated.

Modern witches remain imperialistic in their choice of interests.

Breathe in. Close my eyes. I sense myself. I draw the cards and see the future that I want.

I stand on the shoulders of giantesses. and look with two faces towards the future and the past. I need the custom, the ritual. Maybe I can be a witch, like I am an artist. Always learning. Continuously evolving. Conscious of history but on my own path. Build my own oracle. Find a way to be an antifascist witch. 

Am an artist. Am a painter. Am an oracle. Am a witch. 

[chrisryanspeaks]

HEAR: Synth-Pop | Born Days - “How To Disappear”

Born Days has released “How To Disappear” a unique and inspiring track born from a dark period in the artist’s life. The passion and intensity in this track is present from the first note to the last. Born Days is the conceptual darkwave synth-pop project from Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist singer, songwriter, and producer Melissa Harris. Her debut full-length album My Little Dark is set to release on October 6, 2023, through AudioSport Records. Read More: Harris explains the background of "How To Disappear": "I wrote this song while going on very long walks every day during a dark period in my life, maybe even for 2 or 3 hours sometimes. I live about a 10-minute walk from Lake Michigan and I would go there and watch the waves and record them every day. The sound of the water always felt really soothing, especially when you want to disappear from the world and join the clouds and the trees in their unknowing state. It’s that feeling when you don’t want to live anymore, but you also don’t want to die, it’s just the in-between where you wish you could just disappear and join the vapor breezes. Life can be very unkind sometimes, and it’s hard to know what to do when you’re feeling really down.  My favorite thing when life is unkind is to write music about it and tell a story with sound. I love to create sound and use found sound, too. I tried to capture the little sounds of the world while walking around. Sounds like leaves crunching underfoot to make the rhythm, the sound of lake water breathing in and out and then run through a phaser, little sounds that no one really notices that make natural rhythms in nature. Then, I would go home and pitch and stretch and retime these sounds to the beat. I used a variety of synths and a really dark bass to create the disorienting feeling of being sad and neutral and dark about whether or not I want to stay on this planet. I added some cringey y2k chants for irony. I hope you enjoy it." Candidly vulnerable and emotionally complex, My LittleDark is an album that draws inspiration from the realm of confessional poetry and the world of childlike innocence to sonically explore and narrate the anagogic, deeply personal, and complex labyrinthine pathways that exist within the heart and mind. Mystical and melancholic, Harris’s ethereal voice escapes into dark symphonic soundscapes driven by dreamy, synth-heavy polyrhythms that paint a cinematic electronic pop soundtrack soaked in moody, hazy textures. The album was partially written while Harris spent time in an outpatient program dealing with a severe mental health crisis and as a means to heal. Writing this music was one of the ways that Harris was able to continue living on this planet. Harris admits that it is hard to put that previous sentence into words, but this music is about truth and beauty, and so that is what inspired the songs on My Little Dark. Drawing influences from alternative, darkwave, dreampop, and goth culture, Harris plays with a sonic palette of soft, dark, and dusty tones that mix elements of grunge, post-punk, neo-psychedelia, shoegaze, and modern pop. Deeply nostalgic and profoundly personal, My Little Dark explores Harris’s struggles with mental illness, trauma, destructive cycling, love, innocence, and beyond. Her distinctively soft and sweet voice is saturated with otherworldly essence that explodes into apocalyptic crescendos and escapes into ghostly innocence. Harris’s songs are brilliantly enchanting and sonically dripping with haunted textures, little spirits from the ether, and dystopian landscapes that leave you longing for a more innocent and beautiful time. TOUR DATES + LIVE SETS  10/5 Chicago, IL - Loud Pizza Records // My Little Dark pre-release listening party 8 PM CST 10/5 Bandcamp // My Little Dark Album Release // Live Virtual Listening Party 4pm CST 10/13 Chicago, IL - Empty Bottle // Album Release Show w/ Lipsticism + Sunglow  Read the full article

[audiofuzz]

HEAR: Synth-Pop | Born Days - “How To Disappear”

Born Days has released “How To Disappear” a unique and inspiring track born from a dark period in the artist’s life. The passion and intensity in this track is present from the first note to the last. Born Days is the conceptual darkwave synth-pop project from Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist singer, songwriter, and producer Melissa Harris. Her debut full-length album My Little Dark is set to release on October 6, 2023, through AudioSport Records. Read More: Harris explains the background of "How To Disappear": "I wrote this song while going on very long walks every day during a dark period in my life, maybe even for 2 or 3 hours sometimes. I live about a 10-minute walk from Lake Michigan and I would go there and watch the waves and record them every day. The sound of the water always felt really soothing, especially when you want to disappear from the world and join the clouds and the trees in their unknowing state. It’s that feeling when you don’t want to live anymore, but you also don’t want to die, it’s just the in-between where you wish you could just disappear and join the vapor breezes. Life can be very unkind sometimes, and it’s hard to know what to do when you’re feeling really down.  My favorite thing when life is unkind is to write music about it and tell a story with sound. I love to create sound and use found sound, too. I tried to capture the little sounds of the world while walking around. Sounds like leaves crunching underfoot to make the rhythm, the sound of lake water breathing in and out and then run through a phaser, little sounds that no one really notices that make natural rhythms in nature. Then, I would go home and pitch and stretch and retime these sounds to the beat. I used a variety of synths and a really dark bass to create the disorienting feeling of being sad and neutral and dark about whether or not I want to stay on this planet. I added some cringey y2k chants for irony. I hope you enjoy it." Candidly vulnerable and emotionally complex, My LittleDark is an album that draws inspiration from the realm of confessional poetry and the world of childlike innocence to sonically explore and narrate the anagogic, deeply personal, and complex labyrinthine pathways that exist within the heart and mind. Mystical and melancholic, Harris’s ethereal voice escapes into dark symphonic soundscapes driven by dreamy, synth-heavy polyrhythms that paint a cinematic electronic pop soundtrack soaked in moody, hazy textures. The album was partially written while Harris spent time in an outpatient program dealing with a severe mental health crisis and as a means to heal. Writing this music was one of the ways that Harris was able to continue living on this planet. Harris admits that it is hard to put that previous sentence into words, but this music is about truth and beauty, and so that is what inspired the songs on My Little Dark. Drawing influences from alternative, darkwave, dreampop, and goth culture, Harris plays with a sonic palette of soft, dark, and dusty tones that mix elements of grunge, post-punk, neo-psychedelia, shoegaze, and modern pop. Deeply nostalgic and profoundly personal, My Little Dark explores Harris’s struggles with mental illness, trauma, destructive cycling, love, innocence, and beyond. Her distinctively soft and sweet voice is saturated with otherworldly essence that explodes into apocalyptic crescendos and escapes into ghostly innocence. Harris’s songs are brilliantly enchanting and sonically dripping with haunted textures, little spirits from the ether, and dystopian landscapes that leave you longing for a more innocent and beautiful time. TOUR DATES + LIVE SETS  10/5 Chicago, IL - Loud Pizza Records // My Little Dark pre-release listening party 8 PM CST 10/5 Bandcamp // My Little Dark Album Release // Live Virtual Listening Party 4pm CST 10/13 Chicago, IL - Empty Bottle // Album Release Show w/ Lipsticism + Sunglow  Read the full article

[dailycharacteroption]

Conversion Corner: XCOM playable races part 3

Viper

 By far one of my favorite alien species that show up in XCOM, the so-called “vipers” were an homage to the “snakemen” aliens from the original XCOM series. Admittedly, the snakemen from the original were even more superficial in their comparison to earth reptiles than the vipers of the modern series, but that’s neither here nor there.

According to the Uber Ethereal at the end of Enemy Unknown, the aliens known as Thin Men (which would be revealed in the next game to be highly modified vipers meant for infiltration among humans) were a species that they found to be intelligent and exceptionally loyal and adaptable (presumably both in terms of genome and in terms of mental flexibility), but were ultimately rejected as they seemed incapable of properly implementing the genetics that unlocked psionic power. (Thankfully, in Starfinder, psychic spellcasting has been melded with the other two disciplines, and even where it’s trappings exist, it is more a matter of discipline than genetic predisposition, with perhaps the exception of the psychic bloodline for sorcerers in Pathfinder).

Still, they remained useful to the Elders as infiltrators and fast attacking troops, particularly once they were allowed to be seen on the planet in their true forms, rather than the human-like facades they once bore, taking advantage not only of their training but also the many physical benefits of their serpentine forms and alien biology.

However, with the fall of ADVENT and the occupying forces on Earth, the vipers, much like every other species of alien, were forced to adapt and integrate with human society, and proved just as capable of living alongside humanity as others even with their various deadly adaptations. In fact, amusingly, the fandom jokes and memes about viper… “assets” and attractiveness have transcended back into the game by there being a viper-themed strip club in Chimera Squad. There’s a market for everything, after all.

In any case, vipers appear to be serpentine humanoids with a “lamia” or “naga” body plan, humanoid upper body over a serpentine, legless tail. Their heads are fully serpentine, and sport folding fangs like the vipers they are name for, as well as most, but not all, sporting a cobra hood. Inside their mouths and throats are both a long, prehensile tongue that can be projected at great lengths to drag foes closer, as well as poison glands that allow them to spit wads of poisonous saliva that typically vaporizes into a toxic mist on impact, though some possess a thicker saliva that can adhere to targets, while others focus their venom through their fangs. (some can even do all three). From there, their arms are of typical strength for a humanoid of their size, but their real power lies in their tails, which can propel them quite quickly, and boast the muscular power to crush foes like a constrictor. Most vipers have golden patterned scales, but a rare few from arctic facilities are white, while dark blue-green and gray are also possible.

Interestingly, only one male viper has ever been canonically seen, the genetically-altered “viper king” from XCOM 2’s “Alien Hunters” DLC. The reason for this was because the Elders wished to control the viper population, forcing the intelligent and independent vipers to be wholly reliant on them for the continuation of the species, though I imagine that by the time of Chimera Squad, at least someone must have been working on gene-engineering to help new males be born, or transitioned into by interested vipers.

While not much is seen of Viper mentality and behavior outside of Agent Torque and the brief appearance of the arms and intel dealer Xug, it can be inferred that vipers are an intelligent and practical people that see the value and wisdom of operating with other sapient species and organizations for the betterment of all, though the fact they are also obligate carnivores can make them seem unnerving, aloof, or even standoffish to other species, though of course there is plenty of room for variance there, as Torque, with her antisocial snark and hostility is merely a mask to hide her awkwardness.

 +2 Dex, +2 Int, -2 Cha

Hp: 4

Size and Type: Vipers are medium monstrous humanoids of the viper subtype

Racial Traits

Crushing Coils: A viper can use their serpentine lower body to grapple foes, allowing them to grapple without needing a free hand. Additionally, they gain a constrict special attack, dealing 1d8 bludgeoning damage to the grappled foe every time they succeed their roll to maintain a grapple.

Poison Resistance: Vipers gain a +2 resistance to poison, and are completely immune to Viper Venom.

Poison Spittle: Vipers can be born with one of three adaptations for their venom, though they can develop more with training. Regardless of which version or versions they have access to, they can utilize their poison a number of times per day equal to 1 + Con modifier (minimum 1)

Poison Mist: The viper spits a ball of concentrated venom bile up to 30 ft away, which explodes in a 10 ft. radius cloud, exposing all within to viper venom as an inhaled poison (therefore, creatures that don’t breath or have environmental protections are immune).

Rooting Venom: The viper spits a less toxic and thicker wad of bile that sticks to a single target, possibly rooting them to the ground. This is a ranged attack targeting EAC, and on a successful hit, the target is entangled for 1d4 rounds, rooting them to a surface if they are in contact with one.

Poison Bite: The viper lashes out with their fangs, which count as a natural weapon as the racial trait of the same name, but a successful hit that deals damage also exposes the target to viper venom. A viper that is out of daily uses of Poison Spittle may still make natural weapon attacks, though they lack the venom effect.

Viper Venom tracks along the Dexterity poison track at a rate of 1/round for 4 rounds, and the poison save is equal to the 10 + the viper’s level + their Constitution bonus.

Tongue Pull: A viper’s tongue counts as a grappler with 30 ft of cable for the purposes of firing at other creatures to grapple them. As a move action while grappling a target in this way, the viper may pull medium or smaller targets adjacent to themselves, transferring them to their Crushing Coils as a free action. Sundering the tongue causes the viper to take 1d6 damage and lose the ability to use their tongue until they receive magical healing.

Viper Movement: Vipers have a move speed of 30 ft. and a climb speed of 20 ft.

Viper Senses: Vipers have Darkvision 60 ft and Blindsense (scent) 30 ft.

[wordsbynathan]

WIP: Black Squirrel

genre; queer, literary

POV; 3rd past

length; short story (~7k words)

status; revising

synopsis;

Ezra is in love with his boyfriend Teddy, but he’s so afraid to say these words that he constructs a game that will allow him to discover if the love is mutual. All they have to do is share their deepest secret with each other; Ezra figures that if Teddy knows the worst thing he’s ever done and sticks around, that’s enough.

What Teddy tells Ezra sends ripples of uncertainty through their relationship and Ezra finds himself drifting away, though he can’t quite put his finger on why until he sees a familiar poster on the wall in a professor’s office. The truth clicks into place, but Ezra’s always been good at denial.

characters;

Ezra is an obsessive person, focused on controlling every aspect of his life that he can. And though he can’t control Teddy, wouldn’t dream of it, he can control the idea of Teddy in his own mind. Ezra has a dark past that exists as an undercurrent over the frozen surface of a lake, and his fixation on the cold causes him to over-prepare for the weather and approach winter like a cautious but entranced child.

Teddy is perfect, he’s Ezra’s perfect thing, a beacon of goodness and purity in a world that so often feels sullied. But he’s hiding a strange desire, a compulsion that Ezra isn’t sure he can wrap his mind around. Ezra’s internal construction of Teddy hits a wall and hits it hard, and though the last thing he wants to do is abandon someone the way he’s been abandoned, Teddy’s secret has Ezra in over his head.

excerpts;

extended excerpt IDs and taglist under the read more (feel free to ask to be +/- from general taglist! <3)

excerpt 1;

“The dark fur is actually a result of an abnormality in their genetics,” Teddy explained. He was full of hyper-specific animal facts. “The extra pigmentation probably helps them keep warmer in the cold months.”

“So you’re saying I’m a mutant?”

Teddy laughed, a cloud of vapor puffing up in front of him. “No, I just mean they’re always ready for the cold, just like you.”

But Ezra always thought they were more like Teddy. Soft, resilient. Perfect. Part of him wishes he’d heeded his father’s words with more care. When he’s with his boyfriend, Ezra so often feels like he’s finally made the catch. But he doesn’t know what to do next. He’s just holding on for dear life, hoping Teddy doesn’t decide to squirm away. Hoping that Teddy doesn’t bite him.

excerpt 2;

Once, towards the end of that first summer they spent together, they were sitting on a dock at Ezra’s family’s summer home and after a playful shoving match, both ended up in the water. Though Teddy took it in stride, Ezra could tell later he was upset by the occurrence. When he asked his boyfriend what the problem was, Teddy said, “Wet clothes make me feel naked.”

Ezra thought about this a lot after the fact. He thought about the way some experiences were like being shoved into a lake and emerging sopping, the way wet clothes cling tight to the body, revealing everything even though one is still completely covered up.

excerpt 3;

Ezra crouched down slowly. He wondered what was the good of camouflage if it only protected you in the dark. If it only kept you warm at the cost of revealing you in the light.

The squirrel seemed frozen, its eyes wide and darting about madly, though the rest of its body didn’t move. Ezra pressed his forehead against the window, cold glass a shock and a relief against his skin. The squirrel stared at him. Its tail twitched.

Ezra closed his eyes. He could hear the snow coming down, little pitter patter of soft wet on soft wet. This was interrupted by a small thump, and when he cracked his lids open, the animal was gone.

Taglist (tagging gen and some others!): @my-liminal-spaces @ahowlinwolf @sugarcoatedglass @chloeswords @rainbowcoloreddays @alicewestwater @ryns-ramblings @vitrichor @lasbrumas @sprigofbasil @reverieternal @incipientdream

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter X

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I’m sorry for the delay! Thank you so much for your patience and support! I’m here with the new chapter! I jope you will enjoy.

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VII)(Chapter VIII)(Chapter IX) (Chapter XI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 652

TW: Mentions of Hospital ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The swings.

(Y/n) loved swings. So charming and amusing.

Even if they couldn't play like the other children, they could always go to the swings. Waving forward and then backward. Heights frightened them and even now terrified them. But with the swings, it was not like that. They felt brave and free. They had visited many. However, they remembered one in particular: the one that his grandfather gave them. The one in the garden of the house where they grew. When they swung, they could see the clouds and the sky. Knowing that their family saw the same azure as they did. They remembered the wildflowers that flourished at the end of the tubes that held it. They had quite a few memories of that swing. That also took place in that location. Their mami's face of horror at seeing them on the ground coughing blood tormented them for a while.

They were back in the hospital. They knew that they would return.  The lonely hours where no visits were allowed seemed long, even reading.

The moments when they were able to be with their grandparents were joyous. Perpetually trying to smile so they wouldn't worry about them.

"(Y/n)!"- a voice cried their name.

They lifted as fast as they could, responding as well as the tubes in their throats allowed.

"Julian!"- They felt so relieved to see him. Each night they spent awake, believing that they would never see him again. The boy, despite being simply 2 years older, was much taller than them. He ran to them sobbing and held them as if they were going to vaporize.

Because that's what they believed.

"(Y/n)!"-he sobbed their name again-"I'm so sorry; I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone that day. Not because you can't play ball with me, I want you to leave me."-his grip tightened.

They were weak, and their arms were shaking. Yet, that did not prevent them from returning the hug with all the strength that their small body had.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not upset right now."- they consoled. 

If they were in his village, the two of them would look more like animals. Julian's tail would surely shake restlessly, and (Y/n) would rub their cheeks into him. They would be cat and dog, but they loved each other so much. Regularly playing clapping games, going for walks, reading together, or playing video games together. It's not like (Y/n) had someone else. From an early age, they had had difficulties relating to other cubs, including adults. 

"Julian, watch out for running! They are going to scold us!"- a sweet voice called. Immediately two elders entered, their hands full of bags and gifts.

"Mami, Papi! Hi!"-they greeted, already smiling.

It was an afternoon full of laughter, cake, sweets, and gifts. They played cards and chess - matches (Y/n) won- watched movies, read new books, and hugged stuffed animals. Except it was not (Y/n)'s birthday. 

Only visiting hours end sooner or later. And their company had to withdraw. The only difference was that the man stayed a while longer. Opposing hospital rules, which, as a doctor, he had never done previously. (Y/n) stared at him for a moment, not delivering eye contact, until they looked up.

"Papi, I'm going to die?"-they were looking directly in his eyes, searching for a response. 

They had a particular method of expressing their feelings, but that didn't mean they did not feel-they possibly felt with more intensity than the majority. Most would expect a kid their age to cry in that situation, but they did not cry. They were smiling.

"(Y/n)..."-the old man whispered and sat near them. He hadn't the courage to say it.

"I can't tell you that. However, if I can tell you one thing."-he took out a small case from the pocket of his trousers. He held their hand and placed the present in their palm-"Whatever happens, I'll be with you. Wherever you go, you will not be alone. And if so, you have nothing to fear."

When they parted the lid of the box, in its inside covered in red velvet, laid a pair of earrings. They were drop-shaped pearl pendants. A peculiar gift for a kid their age. Most would give jewelry like this to someone older.

"My grandfather gave them to my mother, she gave them to me, and today I give them to you."-he continued-"When you have them on, I will accompany you wherever you go. Since our auras live in flowers, a part of mine lives in those earrings. I'll be reminding you who you are and where you come from. So don't forget that you have a home to go to. Don't be afraid (Y/n)..."

The room's door was locked, and the curtains were down. The old man did not own the same appearance as moments ago; he resembled a massive wolf. Intense but soft fur and a spot on the right ear. He knelt to be at the child's height. They looked into each other's eyes, which some say are the door to the soul, for a long time. Without vociferating a word.

"I love you (Y/n)."-he wept, holding his tears.

The mentioned one offered him a smile.

"I love you, Papi."-they mumbled. They leaned forward to hug him, taking the opportunity to snuggle in the older's neck fluff.-"But I am not afraid. Not at all."

The man hugged them back. His paws were so big that they would definitely fit them into just one of them.

After that, he left, promising that they would return the next day.

What they told was a lie, they were afraid. They sobbed enormously that night, except they didn't want their family to see them that way. 

~

Kurapika opened one of his drowsy eyes, not feeling the embrace anymore. For a moment he was scared of being alone, that it was all a dream. Though (Y/n) was right next to him. Sitting on the mattress, their backs on the bed frame. They were not sleeping, just staring at the emptiness.

"(Y/n)?"-he groaned, the voice hoarse from sleep.

The appointed blink, as if dispersing the spirits that had them trapped.

They turned their heads to detect where the voice was originating from.

"Kurapika?"-they whispered, the speech clear.-"My apologies, did I wake you?"

"No. Rather, what are you doing awake?"-he was already awaiting the worst.

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Don't trouble yourself,  please."-they quietly answers with a smile. 

How could they request him not worry for them? You can't stop caring about what you love. 

"What hour is it?"- he inquired, a bit bothered about the fatigue they might receive in the morning. At least it was Sunday, meaning neither of them had to labor. They would have the possibility of recovering hours of rest if they required it.

After a few seconds of silence, they answered-"4:37."

Kurapika knew the hard nights when attaining rest in a lonely bed seemed tedious. The difference is that they were not abandoned.  He was there for them and wasn't intending on leaving anywhere anytime shortly.

At least they hadn't had a nightmare, if so they would have told him so, right?

He lifted the blankets as a symbol for them to lie down next to him over. He didn't know if they would. Simply with them reclined anew, he would be satisfied. They paid obeisance to him, approaching and lying down nearby him. They came face to face. Kurapika enveloped his arm over their body, they did not hug him back. Yet, they pressed their forehead on his chest.

~

The morning was peaceful and pleasant. Kurapika and (Y/n) were sipping coffee and eating leftover cake from the night earlier in the salon. A disk was playing on the record player. The melody was smooth, the saxophone and the lyrics combined quite well. The silence among the two was charming. From time to time, they were silent, in the same room, just savoring the existence of the separate person. Not because they had nothing to tell. Rather, it was a matter of having their own spaces without isolating themselves.

Except, the silence always finished up breaking.

"I suggest we watch a film tonight. Today you can choose it if you'd like."- Kurapika enunciated, happy to spend quiet time with his lover. Having relaxing nights was rare.

"I...I deem the most convenient thing is for you to come home."-they hesitated, to resume right away-"Not that I don't want to be with you. I'm pretty occupied tonight, and I don't wish for you to miss a night of rest."

The answer surprised him at first.

"Are you going to cover someone in the unit anew?"-he questioned fully of irritant. They were profiteers with (Y/n). His companions rested on their professional integrity and goodness. Kurapika got tired of seeing his lover could stay awake nights in a row to cover night shifts or take care of delegated documents. He knew they would not leave a patient to their own fate; although he foresaw to have a discussion concerning it with them.

"No, not this time."-(Y/n) disclosed. If it was simple paperwork, they did it often with him, as long as he did not interrupt them.

"What will you do?"-he scoffed this time, no commitment had been mentioned to him. Although they had a poor mania to omit some points, not maliciously; globally they were details. That was not a detail.

They resembled uncomfortable. Kurapika already recognized their body language, and despite their perpetual smile, he could read them.

Their gaze was downcast, shoulders hunched, and they played with the edges of their sweater sleeves.

"I'm going to reclaim someone from my clan..."-they wept after a moment of the uncertain reserve.

From the beginning, (Y/n) had helped him regain scarlet eyes. Getting information and accompanying him. Nonetheless, they hadn't mentioned anything about getting their clan back. No contact, no remains, no meeting. Until today. Why? They were trying to preserve him? Did they want to avoid him at a distressing moment? Kurapika believed that retaining such secrets had ended since their discussion. That stubborn part of them that dedicated obstinately to secrecy frustrated him.

"(Y/n)."-he scolded once more.

They narrowed more as if craving to hide from his gaze. He wasn't mad at them. But it frustrated him that he was powerless to help them.

"(Y/n), I'm not angry."-his tone softened-"I desire to accompany you."

Their posture decompressed, though they started to fidget more.

"It will be a rather longspun night. It will be tiresome."-they maintained.

"I do not tend."- He would stand firm with this.-"I am here to assist you."

They suspired-"Thank you, Kurapika."-They had communication difficulties to solve, and weren't oblivious. 

"What time will it occur, where and with whom?"-he hinted, making sure to know the circumstances.

"The event will be held with a private collector. At his residence at 8:40 pm."-they specified-"Only that there is a relevant detail."-they added with a cautioned voice.-"The collector is another hunter."

The collector is another hunter. Not for lack of ability, but for the votes that restrained their children. It would be necessary to rely upon the strategy to evade some violent confrontation. On top of that, their identities could be in check.

"As it is clearly practically impossible to hide the fact that I am a hunter, I presented myself as a mere fellow hunter fond of oddities."-as suspected they already had a method.

"Regarding your company, we can pivot on my weak appearance."-they continued with the strategy-" He will never believe that a hunter would require a bodyguard, but an assistant is plausible. He told me that the "merchandise"- saying that last word with disgust-"will be weighty."

"I perceive that you had the strategy ready. That's why I don't worry. I'll stick with it."-regarding the tactical abilities of (Y/n), Kurapika did not waver. Their experience was remarkable.-"Still, you must tell me these genera of things."

"Reasonable, my apologies."-they bawled. 

Kurapika wasn't going to reprimand them. He was aware that they were not doing it maliciously, the communication obstacles were rather difficulties. He could never get mad at them for having some kind of challenge. 

~

The place concluded up being in an upper-class suburb of YorkNew. For the other hunter to live there, it had to be wealthy. And to be wealthy he had to be skillful. For this occasion, (Y/n) did not use its own vehicle. They rented a truck with a roomy hood. Once the house was spotted, they parked the truck far enough away for the details not to be well distinguished -being black it was conveniently camouflaged with the darkness of the night-but close sufficient to get there quick running. 

Before going down, (Y/n) was silent for a short moment. Without moving from the driver's seat. Their pupils would look very dilated if it weren't for the contacts they were wearing. They both wore, so as not to give any kind of clue about their origins. Followed by that silence, they closed their eyes and pronounced a rhyme while poking their chests with two fingers, in a language that Kurapika did not understand. A mantra for good luck, perhaps.

There was no security of any kind seen from the facade. They walked to the front door, which was quite high and made of black wood. Shortly after the bell rang, the door opened. Revealing a man, about 31 years old, but he looked younger. It couldn't be said that he had good taste in dressing, but the clothes they wore were of great quality. His hair was somewhat lengthy yet shorter than Kurapika's and ash-black in color. His aura felt dense and heavy. It was easily deduced that he had no intention of hiding it.

The man, like his aura, was imposing. He made them notice it as if testing their courage and challenging them to enter. Almost as if they were unworthy. 

"I presume you are (Y/n)."-he said, waiting. His voice was considerably gruff. The kind of speech that tilts in your eardrums.

"Precisely, a pleasure."-(Y/n) greeted, pulling their hunter license out of their wallet and showing it.

"Good, and he?"-the man pointed at Kurapika.

"Kurapika is here to assist me. I remember listening to you specify that the object was going to be substantial."-they reported hurriedly. Their tone of speech did not denote fear or insecurity. They weren't happy with the rudeness of pointing their lover

"I see. To be a hunter you look frail."-he expressed-"Come in, come in." The walls of the house were wide and the ceiling high. The interior was mostly light gray. The decor had a pretentious modernist tendency. A large number of objects stood out. Of all kinds, but all rare and peculiar. Shelves placed well in sight, figures, frames, vanities. They followed the man through corridors to a small bar, its wall full of bizarre exoticisms.

 If it weren't for the assiduousness they were displayed in, one would say that the person was an accumulator. The idea that the person had become a hunter just to gain privileges and the ability to purchase ostentatious exclusive treasures was more and more evident.

"Let's sit down and have a drink."-the man bossed. 

"Oh, don't bother. We-"-they got interrupted by the man. It was clear he was vulgar despite his money. 

"I don't bother. I want to make sure that I'm not selling one of my prized items to anyone."

[lordbloodysoul]

Name:

Rift Doorman

Title:

“The Layer Breaker” – “Usurper” – “Ever Hunger”

Nicknames:

Rifty / Riff Raff / Tele-Broski (Fresh)

Freak of Nature / Parasite / Anomaly Animus (Error Sans)

Paperworm / Layer Breaker / Clown Vomit (Ink)

Age:

[REDACTED]

Height / Weight:

Varies

Soul Type

“Collective Soul”

// - A Collective Soul shows trades of all known Soul Types and is shielded by a thin membrane of Void. It looks like a blank Soul with a black outline, that has a small pitch dot in its center from which a vibration rolls across the surface of the Soul. Those waves appear in different colors and strokes. To those who are very sensible to Soul Energy, the vibration will sound like an endless army of different voices breathing simultaneously in sync. The rhythm changes with Rift’s state of emotion. It has an aroma/flavour that could be described as “Retro and vibrant”. The feeling it would induces is more reminiscent of Allure and vivid Chaos. Like a puzzle started, but left unsolved. With every piece just raining passed fields of endless colors, trapped within a pool of blackness. - //

STATS:

LV

[REDACTED]        // It will show the “ : P “ Emoji //

HP

[REDACTED]        // It will show the “ >:] “ Emoji //

ATTACK

[REDACTED]        // Just spells out “YOLO” in painfully bright colors //

DEFENSE

[REDACTED]        // Just spells out “LMAO” in painfully bright colors//

Doorman-Tier:

Tier A—Strength Level is not readable, due to its current activity behavior.

History:

Rift Doorman was born outside a Universe of the Undertale Multiverse. Its behavior is unusual compared to other Doorman. Rift traverses the Layers of the Timelines in search of something, but without a Universe to akin to, both its Power and Ambition were altered in a dangerous manner. Throughout its travels, this Doorman has eaten itself through various Timelines and Multiverses. However, these places didn’t just disappear, like usually when things are being destroyed through Outcodes or beings from the Anti-Void. They stay mostly intact. Broken like shattered glass, but still existing. Each piece would then connect with another part. A puzzle, that was willingly done wrong, with Timelines and places in Space just overlapping in chaotic patterns. Strings missing, but not forgotten, rules shifted, players removed and entire areas shifted incoherently.

When Rift gained conscious it felt nothing. Devoid of anything, it just drifted. This state changed when it fell into a Genocide Timeline by accident. Within it, Rift faced the Fallen Human in the Judgment Hall together with Sans. As it wasn’t able to feel pain, watching Sans Dust became its first experience with Death. It amused it. Thus it smashed the human child. Seeing as the child’s death was different from Sans’s, curiosity began building up. More so as Sans returned from the dead when the Timeline reset. The battle broke apart, literally, when Rift tried mimicking voices and speech patterns, causing a ear ripping shriek that splintered the very fabric and Layers of the Universe it was visiting. Sans, slain once more begged the creature to stop the child’s madness. Still incapable of understanding why, it understood that this Fallen Human had caused the Skeleton grievance. He understood the visualization of agony and hopelessness, but couldn’t comprehend the feeling itself. Amused by the concept of FIGHT and MERCY, they decided to experiment with it in this broken place. Trapping the Human Child in a never-ending loop of Resets they had no control over. Dying as plaything to the anomalous creature. Rift bored itself over the course of 17.589 Resets, ending the Human Child by eating first their upper body and disintegrating their Soul for absorption. This act loaded the Fallen Human’s Timeline Data Layers into its own being, giving it a broader view on what’s been happening. Still not able to comprehend things, however, Rift left the splintered Timeline and returned to the Layers between.

More travels were its answer. Further down its path, this Doorman entered a Rampage, experiencing many Emotions from interacting with various worlds in different ways. However, it couldn’t feel them at all. It understood. It could see them. Could comprehend what actions would lead to what reaction, but not why it was necessary. Hollow. It was hollow. Like a Black Hole. Just ripping everything apart and consuming it, but nothing could look back or return it. Within it grew a terrible Hunger, which it satisfied by devouring various portions of the visited Timelines and Multiverses. Places, Sections, Memories, People. All fell to its strife to understand. To engage. To be part of something. It began building a sort of pocket dimension in the Layers between the Multiverse, where it gathered things from various Timelines that kept intriguing it. In one already destroyed Universe, Rift recovered a monitor of round shape, still functional. It had the shape of a face, much like all the other creatures it met had. Thus it connected with the screen and used it as a makeshift face-mask, ensuring its actual form wouldn’t freak out too many people.

While striding through the Timelines, absorbing information, energy, magic and various other stimuli into its form, Rift discovered that it was possible to READ these Data and use it. Shaping its attacks in combat into Patterns and Styles unlike anything this Multiverse had ever witnessed. But not only that, it began to hunt and kill other Doorman instinctively, absorbing them into its form as well, leaving their Timelines defenseless. Rift became a true threat to many, just through its curiosity and yearning for understanding. It also began leaving pieces of itself behind in various distorted Worlds, hidden from view. Small Homunculi, holding enough Data and energy to reincarnate it. Rift slowly devolved into a Parasite that endangered the delicate balance of the Multiverse. A thorn in the side of both the protectors of the Multiverse as well as the Vanguards of the Anti-Void. As its shattering of Timelines caused multiple Universes to intertwine with one another. Rift became a target for eradication, even though no one knew about its existence yet.

It was during another stride into another Timeline that it encountered the parasitic entity known as “Fresh”. Their interaction was quite different than what it was used to. And something began to stir within it. Rift felt something. Something that was unfamiliar and strong. It played with Fresh, before that one disappeared to safety, as the creature seemingly grew too attached to them. That escape started it all. A chase that both were not prepared for nor understood. Rift’s conscious was completely fixated on Fresh. It didn’t understand why, but knew it was important. For days, weeks and months it kept chasing them. However, the Parasite didn’t need or wants anyone following them, so they kept fleeing and hiding. Despite their best efforts, though, Rift finds them every single time.

[!!!SPOILERS WARNING!!! - for those who wish to Read the FanFiction or wait till I get around to making the Comic, since the LITERATURE SUBMIT on DA doesn’t allow much creative Freedom, so I have to do a lot of Re-Spacing and Editing on those Parts. This Section will spoil some of the Plot in exchange for Character Build - If you don't want that spoiled, please proceed to the APPEARANCE Section - !!!SPOILER WARNING!!!]

Fresh found himself in a skirmish with Error and Ink, as they both tried tracking him down. They misjudged and thought they were responsible for several Holes within the Multiverse. With no secure escape Route, they were forced into battle, holding their own well. Up until the Anti-Void’s Enforcer, C0D35 Doorman, stepped onto the field. His entire presence alone began to erase the Universe he’s chosen as a battleground. Manipulating Space was practically useless against this foe, as one of C0D35 special abilities was to block all types of magics. Before the fight could harm Fresh, however, Rift shattered the Universe into several pieces. It took Fresh with it and delved through several Layers of broken Code, Timelines and hid them in a small Space it had created from the leftover scraps of Multiverses long forgotten. A Null Space of sorts. Due to the strenuous battle with Error and Ink, the body Fresh had chosen was slowly failing. They had to let go of the host body and seek out another. Rift, even though unable to talk and acting more like an excited puppy, willingly helped the Parasite. It took them to another Timeline to gain a new host body. Fresh, unable to understand or comprehend the motivation of this anomalous creature, decided to experiment how far its warped sense of loyalty would go. Curiosity getting the better of them. Since they couldn’t escape from it for long anyway. Thus the duo began their journey to try and understand what this drive was, where it was coming from and what it all meant. But Fresh already has the slight suspicion that something was off with Rift. Something huge was brewing.

Appearance:

Rift Doorman has no corporeal form. It’s a mass of black noise, free floating energy and magic. The almost cloud-like, dense column attached itself to an egg-shaped monitor. A remnant of a long forgotten Timeline. Due to the vapor form of its body, Rift can change its density and size at will, ranging from grasp-less like fog and air to solid and unmovable like a wall of steel and stone. This Doorman is holding its form together through sound wave. The magic and energy flooding its form gives these waves color and form, embracing its shape and fueling every movement of the mass. This special way of mass control makes it possible for Rift to even split itself into multiple smaller versions of itself. The Energy and Magic coursing through its vapor shape glows in various colors, like a swarm of bugs and fireflies. The ones that are mostly present range from neon-pinkish to eye-stinging green lights. The color of the Emoji faces on its screen are similarly bright and colorful, while the biggest mass of the body is a pitch-black buzzing fog.

Rift uses the screen it found as a makeshift face. By sending energy and magic through it, it channels different words and expressive Emojis, which it uses for communication, since it cannot speak. It developed this form of talking, which is accented with Retro musical tunes and sound effects, due to its own lack of actual vocal cords. Rift can only mimic various words through pitching and dipping sounds and tunes.

Underneath the screen is a distorted black orb-shaped head, with a bright, monstrous white jaw and eyes. The magic, energy and sound waves, which course through the body are accentuated here, pulsing through the big eyes that stare empty into the world. As the delight of murder and fighting was presented with a smile by both his first encountered Sans and Fallen Child, Rift has adopted that same expression into its own. Empty of empathy, reason or guilt. Hollow.

Personality:

Rift is a peculiar Doorman. Even though highly intelligent and fast learning, it prefers to act like an excited puppy or curious child. Devoid of any real emotion to drive its actions, it only acts upon what other people think is the “good thing” to do in a situation. Leaving trails of Chaos and destruction in its wake. Rift’s first real emotion was “a sense of joy” which emerged from killing the Fallen Human in their first ever visited Timeline. After loosing that, it was filled with a Hunger to learn more, experience more and discover why it was unable to understand or hold emotions like other beings do. It likes being lout and giddy, causing confusion and messes all around.

Rift learned from its travels that violence is considered bad, thus it only acts upon it when given a cause or being asked of. Through Fresh’s company, it grew found of their way of speaking, censoring and general demeanor, which they try to imitate. Not always successful. Rift lacks empathy and basic moralities. Doing the right things as much as they can, but never getting appreciation, feelings of guilt or delight out of any of its actions.

It is a slight hoarder, liking to collect various things from visited Timelines and just storing them in their own little Null Space.

Likes:

Fresh

Eating

making music through its distorted Retro Voice (which would probably sound much like the music you can hear in the “Just Shapes & Beats” Video Game – example here )

helping people

playing with Fresh

exploring and learning / education

collecting stuff for its Null Space

cuddling and hugs

dancing

Fighting, when allowed to do so

people laughing and smiling

inducing Fear into ‘evil’ people (it doesn’t understand it, but their expressions give it a sense of ‘delight’, which it can’t comprehend)

Dislikes:

pointless violence

swearing

anyone who tries to harm Fresh

disrespectful and rude behavior

the other Parasites spawned from Fresh

seeing other people go through loss, sadness and hopelessness (it doesn’t understand, but it dislikes their expressions during these moments)

Capabilities:

Rift is a special Doorman. Unlike any other it can and can’t do various things that are unlike its species. Since Doorman are shaped by what their Timeline / Universe needs, their abilities will be manifested into something they can use as an exploit to reach their goal. Rift, however, has neither a goal nor a world for that to work. Being born outside the Multiverse, Void and such, beneath the Layers of the In between, corrupted its whole existence. Thus it learned an ability so variable, loose and dangerous, that Rift managed to break its own power limitations. That ability is ADAPTATION. Through it, the anomalous entity can learn anything that it finds. This ability is limited only by its corrupted special skill, ARCHIVE, which extents its own Data Volume by absorbing that of other objects, Worlds and people. Through these two abilities, Rift extended its repertoire of skills by taking those of others into its own. By devouring other Timeline versions of Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, Napstablook and various other monsters, it learned their magics, attack patterns, strengths and weaknesses, accumulating them into its own form and using them against various aggressors along the way. Taking the Souls of the Fallen Children, it enhanced its own Soul Power, HP and influence over various aspects within the Timeline Layers. Even though unable to cause REWRITE or OVERWRITE, its Determination rivals the power output of such abilities, nullifying their affects on its own self. By devouring various Doormen, Rift added their special abilities into its own arsenal. But not only these are something to worry about, since they also absorbed the (apparently) infamous “COLOR PUZZLE”, which appeared in various Timelines. Through absorption of its information, Rift learned to utilize the principle in its own combat patterns, making for, probably, the worst experience of a FIGHT for any genocidal maniac. During a FIGHT Rift delights itself by causing its opponent as much headache and frustration as possible. All its patterns are a mix of things it accumulated from various Timelines, objects and people. The difference to its style is that every pattern follows a rhythm it deliberately switches to cause as much distress as it can. Their own original patterns appears as orbs, bars and string lines, which move in a sort of symphonic flow. It likes to abuse the rules of the infamous “COLOR PUZZLE” into each of their attacks. Goal during these fights are to keep itself busy till its bored. It will reset its opponent back into battle till it can’t get enjoyment out of it anymore. Than the most common outcome is for Rift to grab its foe and devour it (or part of it), just to satisfy its hunger for a bit.

// Attack Patterns for this Character would look like a mix between Undertale and “Just Shapes & Beats Style //

Rift’s voice is a powerful instrument of destruction, as its wavelength and pitch can shatter and fragment entire worlds, when threatened. Most of the time, though its a tool for amusement and distraction as they can’t use it to speak, but make totes rad Retro music and sounds with it.

Due to their body being so fluid, Rift tends to shape-shift a lot. Switching sizes being one of the more common transformations, however, it is capable of turning into practically anything it has a rough understanding off. From people to buildings and even entire landscapes. The greater the scope, thought, the higher the risk of its Soul overloading and damaging it. This skill it uses often to entertain Fresh’s curiosity and help them fight their boredom.

The Doorman is capable of using the Data collected to create completely new Multiverses out of them, which it does by filtering the most intriguing information into its “Null Space”. A collective widespread anomalous space in the Layers in between. Much like the Core Universe, it is a hidden pocket dimension that is unreachable unless you’ve been there once or are aware of its existence. As the Null Space grows, so does Rift’s power, which is connected to it. Would this secluded fragment in the Layers in between be destroyed, the damage to Rift itself would be tremendous. Rift is capable of creating “BACK UP FILES” for itself. So called Homunculi, which it scatters across the various splintered Timelines, hiding them in various objects. Through those Back up Data pieces, killing the Doorman has become nearly impossible. For its adversaries it is even unclear if this anomaly can ever truly be completely killed, since normal, widespread magic and fighting abilities are completely wasted on it. However, Rift is not completely invulnerable. All of its outstanding skills require huge amounts of magic, which it needs to store by devouring and absorbing Energy, Magic and Entities from other Timelines. Starvation is a realistic issue to it, since their moral compass started to change with the appearance of Fresh. Survival becoming an “optional goal” to its primary instinct fixating on the Parasite and its well-being. Rift can be harmed by beings from the Anti-Void as well as Ink, which is why it tries to stay hundreds of paces away from them. Especially C0D35, as his ability, ANNIHILATION, exceeds its coded protection by a margin. When Rift’s Soul reaches critical its body becomes fully corporeal and eats at its own mass till burn-out. The energy and magic from its body will slowly dissolve the very fabric of Reality, Time and Space as it goes on, till everything just becomes absolute Chaos. This meltdown can cause any nearby organism to be entrapped in a cascade of pain and maddening delirium, slowly eating at their very existence. It would cause an unseen apocalypse of shier Madness, but also cause the very Death of Rift, if the burn-out isn’t stopped.

Relations:

Rift has no great attachment to anyone besides Fresh. And even that “affection” is a level of understanding it can’t comprehend. For it, its something that it was born for, but doesn’t know why or what it is supposed to do with it. Finding the answer to this riddle is the only ‘purpose’ it got and after wandering aimless for so long, it decided not to let go of it till it knows.

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Trivia:

The first word Rift ever spoke was “YOLO”, when it read the glasses of Fresh at their first meeting.

There is a Momma CQ version of Rift.

Kid!Rift entire backstory is goign to make people wanna stab me to death. I am sure of that.

Rift’s musical Battle Patterns are inspired by the game “Just Shapes and Beats”

Yes, I am aware that I messed up the Color Patterns of both of my Fresh Designs there. They were both drawn separately before placed in the same picture together. It has bugged me to no end!

Yes, there will be a Momma CQ version of this one coming (probably soon, since I don’t want to loose my shin. It’s not worth making Rifty mad)

Fresh Sans belongs to @loverofpiggies

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