#if it isn't obvious

[puppy-phum]

Pit Babe Characters x Cartomancy ➣ Part 2: Alan & Jeff

King of Hearts: A caregiver and a protector. Others look for them for guidance and reassurance. Eight of Diamonds: Focusing on the bigger picture. Keeping an eye out for any problems or errors.

for @pitbabeanniversary week 2 prompts: alan & jeff

(more thoughts under the cut!)

disclaimer: i am not an expert in either cartomancy or tarot reading. i did a lot of research on these two sites to come up with these cards for the characters. some of the meanings associated with the cards are still only my own interpretation, so they might not be completely accurate.

continuing to analyze the characters of pit babe through playing cards by saying a few words of my fave couple in the series ^^

alan: king of hearts was a very obvious choice for alan. the descriptions say that this card represents a "family man" and i instantly knew it was going to be alan's card. he is the dad of the group after all, the caregiver, the guardian to his own bunch of lost boys. he would give everything to those he loves and the others know this. they look up to him and think of him as the rock, as someone to lean on and someone to keep them safe. he is their financial and emotional support and often makes the final decisions.

but his position is also hard to keep, and the duty he's taken upon carrying sets alan up to failure throughout the story. he asks a lot from himself, and so he fails over and over again: he fails to protect his boys, fails to offer them proper guidance and support, fails with money and their plans and with understanding them all. i think he convinces himself of his complete failure as a guardian when dean first betrays them and then when way eventually dies. he thinks those events were somehow his fault. if he had been better and had noticed something off sooner, would way still be alive? and if he had been able to give more, would dean be happier now? he carries all of this alone, and so i thought "family" was both his gift and a burden.

jeff: just like with charlie, it was a bit harder to interpret jeff through these cards. i initially placed him somewhere amongst spades – problems and bad omens seem to be his specialty. but then i saw the description for this one and got caught on the mention of "eyes". that seemed to click bc what else is jeff but the eyes of the group, the seer of everything? he's that both willingly and unwillingly, always around when things are looking down, always witnessing all these events yet unable to do anything but watch.

that's why the edit itself turns into a collection of moments when jeff is reduced to an observer, someone who is unable to do anything but watch. as someone who sees the future but cannot affect it, he must be sick of this position. he needs to watch others suffer, knowing the pain was coming but incapable of stopping it. his apology to alan echoes in my ears – him blaming himself for way's death. it's hard to let go and not fight the future when you know it will hurt those you care about. i get why jeff has tried to remain alone and i admire his bravery for opening his heart and stepping out of his cave. he's an essential part of the group and does his very best to offer comfort when he cannot do anything else to help.

as a pair, alan and jeff are a bit special as they're the only fully red pair amongst these card duos. they're a mix of hearts and diamonds, a perfect balance of emotion and intelligence, heart and mind. no wonder alan so easily opens up to jeff and allows himself to rely on the youngster's guidance, while jeff cannot help but go soft in front of alan's genuine love and care for others. they're a match made in heaven, even in this :'D

[weirdfreakshow]

reminder of his place

[kokobopam]

Happy 20th anniversary to my favorite duo in the world, TVXQ! I hope we can spend many more years together!

[wormheamer]

Tbh i have no fucking clue who pansear is or why you are getting pdffile allegations can you please explain the lore thats going on here.(im genuinely confused)

rain world fan artist who got involved in some pretty heavy drama a while back.

to the best of my knowledge and energy:

a minor (azrielfiend) alleged they were groomed by one of pansear's friends (0303emily). pansear at the time believed it was more just serious irresponsibility regarding nsfw subjects than actual grooming, based on their own experiences with the latter. and they said some things that were interpreted as pushing to keep it quiet.

the moderation team of the server this happened in wound up (against pansear's wishes iirc) kicking azriel without doing much about emily. azrielfiend was angered enough by that to make a ... fairly unsubstantiated callout post about the whole thing.

a lot of bad shit happened. azriel and his friends, all underage, went trawling through nsfw sites and servers in order to find dirt on people. pan came around on it being grooming, but a lot of people (including azriel) never forgave them for that initial response. a lot of harassment occurred, and a lot of accusations were thrown around — some of them outright false.

pansear ... kinda fell apart, for a while.

watching it happen instilled anxieties in me that have never really died down.

but eventually they started posting art again. things seemed to calm down, to heal. until like two weeks ago, when azriel saw pansear complain about getting banned from the roblox phighting server, got mad, and posted a series of four screenshots he'd kept waiting for a good opportunity.

these screenshots appeared to show pansear encouraging self-harm in return for drawing nsfw art, and continuing contact with 0303emily, despite their very public falling-out.

pansear had already been kind of drifting away from rain world over the continued harassment, and this was enough for them to delete all of their social media accounts. people took that as an admission of guilt, and so didn't scrutinize the pictures very closely.

all the old accusations against pan that hadn't caught on got dug up and re-examined. some time ago she drew what, frankly, from the descriptions i've heard and the censored images i've been exposed to, seems like fairly tame furry nsfw art, shared in private, leaked maliciously, and used to claim she was a zoophile.

but the screenshots are ... i'm pretty much 100% convinced that they're fake, at this point. there are too many weird coincidences, and i've been told by a trusted source that it couldn't be 0303emily in there anyway. that's not her account.

old wounds have been torn open over nothing.

it may sound stupid for me to be so deeply invested in this but i was an emotional wreck after the screenshots released. i thought they were real too. i'm still kinda fucked up over it now. this shit has and continues to hurt so many more people than just pansear, and it's not even real.

the accusations against me are because i pointed that out.

[brosif40]

Art block (sortof) cured by Wish Bear :3 YAY

[suratan-zir]

Skritch turned one year old and celebrated with a cheesecake.

(I only know his approximate age, so let's just pretend it is his b-day)

After the birthday boy, everyone else got to enjoy the cheesecake. Maybe when he turns two he will learn how to eat from a plate and not get food all over his snout.

[seleneprince]

But she couldn't have ever imagined this.

Part 1

Nesta already expected the worst when she set off for the Wall.

She's laying in a pristine, king-sized bed with sheets made of the most exquisite silk her skin has ever touched, in the middle of a massive room with some lit candles floating around, giving off an mysterious allure to the place. In theory, this should be a dream come true.

Except it's not.

Nesta grits her teeth, tugging futilely against the chain that keeps her bound to the bed by the ankle. The metal bites into her skin, and she feels the sting of each small movement, a constant reminder of her captivity. The luxury of the room, which once would've made her swoon, only added fuel to her anger now.

The elegance, the refined decoration around her felt like a mockery of her situation.

She scans the room, searching for anything that might help her break the cursed chain. The candles that hover mid-air cast a soft, golden glow, and the shadows they create dance across the stone ceiling. There are no windows, so the only exit is the door. Not that it matters; even if she managed to break free from the chain, there's no telling what—or who—would await her out there.

Her thoughts drift back to that damned Fae male, the one who’d dragged her here. His sharp, predatory smile, the cold amusement in his voice as he taunted her. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her chin, the way his magic had restrained her so effortlessly. A shiver runs through her at the memory, but she quickly suppresses it, forcing herself to think clearly. She can’t panic. Panic is useless.

She pulls at the chain again, testing its strength, but it doesn't give, and her skin is already red from the many previous attempts. Frustration bubbles inside her, and she digs her nails into her palms, trying to keep her mind from spiraling. There has to be a way out of this. There always is.

She tries to think what would Feyre do. Knowing that little beast, she probably would've found a way out of this already, and the thought makes her heart ache.

Feyre. Wild, unruly, stupidly brave Feyre. Her little sister who took the burden that belonged to their father and carried the family on her shoulders since they arrived to that filthy cottage. Her sister, who in her task to bring them food, provoked a powerful Fae beast and was taken away from her house in front of them. In front of Nesta.

It had been worse when she realized neither Elain or their useless father knew the truth . The next day, Nesta was subjected to excited talks about how lucky Feyre have been to be taken by some rich aunt Nesta knew nothing of, how some winter breeze had shattered their door. It got to the point Nesta really thought she was going mad, that what she vividly remembered from that night never happened. But whenever these thoughts pestered her, she looked at claws marked on the table, and knew she was right.

Then that weird stranger appeared at their door and asked their father to invest his money for him with a too good of an offer. And when money started pouring in like old times, allowing them to move to a beautiful mansion, Nesta snapped. She couldn't handle living in that bubble of deceit her family seemed blissfully trapped in.

Her sister had been stolen away that night, yet everything went on as if it had never happened. It wasn’t right. It was utterly, completely wrong. And she was the only one aware of it.

Nesta decided it right there and then. She went up to that mercenary from town and hired her to act as guide through the unfamiliar winter woods. Towards the Wall. The woman insisted there was no way through, but Nesta was determined. That Fae had to go through that way to take Feyre with him. There had to be some kind of entrance. A hidden path, or a secret door. Something.

Then she heard a voice, calling her from afar—a soft, indecipherable echo that sounded a bit too much like Feyre, making her walk towards it without hesitation. Had she stopped to think for a second, Nesta would've have realized that the air was filled with the same energy as that Fae's spell at the cottage, which, for some reason, didn’t affect her in the slightest.

But she was tired and eager to see Feyre again, to bring her back home once and for all. Whatever shields had protected her before against the influence of a Fae had weakened. And before she realized it, a blinding light struck her face with force, making her trip and stumble backward. She opened her eyes to a dark forest that looked straight out of a nightmare, with no sight of Feyre or the mercenary.

She fell into a trap. Probably set up by the same horrible Fae that cornered her. Or maybe it had been her imagination, a product of her stressed mind leading her to disaster.

It doesn't matter anymore.

With a deep breath, she refocuses, taking in her surroundings once more. If she can figure out where she is—or at least what he wants from her—she might be able to turn the situation in her favor. She’s survived worse odds on her way to the Wall. And she refuses to be a helpless, weak girl to be saved by someone else. Not anymore.

Suddenly, the candles go off and the whole room is coveted in darkness. Nesta grasps the bedsheets instinctively, as her eyes can no longer see what's around her. She needs to ground herself, ignore the strong drumming of her heart that resonates in the room through the heavy silence that reigns now.

She goes still, blood freezing in her body. There's no way to know what's happening and it drives her mad. ¿Has her time finally come? Has that twisted man grown sick of keeping her alive? She still remembers the stories told of what happens to the humans in Prythian. Ripped apart and their remains wasting in some Fae's stomach. Is this how it ends for her, really?

Her body shivers. Something has moved right besides her. She holds her breath, waiting for her painful demise.

"Did you miss me, dear?"

It takes her some seconds to recognize the voice. Her fear is guttered with a wave of rage when that bastard chuckles.

The fireplace crackles with a burst of flames, bringing some light back to the room. Nesta makes a show of slowly turning her heard towards him, as if he's the most uninteresting thing here.

He stands there, leaning casually against the bed post, his silhouette outlined by the flickering flames. That damnable smirk is plastered on his face, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watches her reaction. He looks far too pleased with himself, like a cat that’s cornered a mouse, and she feels the urge to strangle him with the chain.

“Sorry, did I scare you? Forgive me.” he asks, voice low and mocking. “You looked so... tense. I wanted to surprise you.” He takes a step closer, his boots silent against the polished floor, the shadows curling around his feet like living things.

Nesta’s hands grip the sheets tighter, her nails digging into the fabric as she forces herself to maintain her composure. She can't let him see how shaken she is, how his little game rattled her. Instead, she cocks her head, falling back into the cold indifference that's part of her.

“What do you want now?” she snaps, her voice harsher than she intends, but it’s better than letting him hear her true emotions. “If you plan to kill me, just do it already. You're wasting both of our times.”

He laughs, the sound rich and infuriating, filling the space between them. “Now, where would be the fun in that, dear? Specially after the trouble it took to bring you here.” He takes another step forward , the firelight casting sharp angles across his face, highlighting the dangerous amusement in his expression. “You’re far too interesting to rot so soon. You see, it gets rather boring around here, day after day, and you'll help me with that."

She feels the chain tug against her ankle as she instinctively tries to shift back, the bite of metal sending a jolt of pain up her leg. She grits her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her wince. Instead, she meets his gaze head-on, letting her fury show. “You should look for better hobbies."

He shrugs, the motion casual, but she catches the glint of menace beneath the veneer of nonchalance. “Maybe, but you're the first thing to truly entertain me in fifty years. You ought to be worried that it remains that way, little thing. If you can't, well..."

He doesn't continue, but Nesta knows what he means. If she can't be of use to him, there's no point in letting her live then. She's stuck being his personal plaything, and expected to act accordingly, or else she'll die. She doesn't know how it is dying by a Fae's hands but she knows it won't be merciful in her case. He'll take his time with her, surely to amuse himself until the end.

He squints his eyes at her, burrows furrowing. His expression turns more serious, focused even. As if he's trying to find something in her.

Nesta doesn't look away, shoving her fear back down from the millionth time and pulling of every fiber of stubborness within her to stand her ground.

He huffs. Then leans his knee on the bed, slowly moving closer to her until his face hovers inches above hers, the heat of his breath mingling with her own. She lays back on her hands, her breath falling short when she realizes she's caged between him and the damn bed. His violet eyes are piercing her, staring at her unblinking.

Nesta's heart stutters in her chest, but keeps her expression locked in a mask of indifference.

The bed dips slightly under his weight as he inches closer, the shadows casting dark, flickering shapes across his already inhuman features. Her pulse pounds in her ears, each beat echoing in the silence that hangs between them. But she refuses to flinch, refuses to give him any satisfaction of seeing how vulnerable she feels.

"Interesting," he mutters, cocking his head slightly. "I can't hear you at all."

Nesta frowns, reading his comment as another mockering, but pauses when a flash of confusion blinks in his eyes for a second.

"What do you-?"

"I felt something was off earlier, but I didn't think-" he shakes his head, somehow without interrupting his intense stare. "Sweet Mother, you're full of surprises."

Nesta blinks, unable to hide her confusion at the moment. He seems to notice and lets out a light chuckle. A sound almost human.

"Let me guess, do you see through glamours too by chance?" A hint of genuine curiosity in his voice, as if he's just asking about the color of her dress.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She doesn't like this. It feels like he's figuring out something about herself that she doesn't know. It unsettles her.

He lifts a groomed, dark brow. "Have you ever witnessed something really strange that you had no explanation for, but no one else noticed? Things that just didn't make sense in your mind?"

A shattered door. Claw marks on the table. A rich aunt Nesta never heard of before but suddenly everyone knows.

A roaring beast that steals little sisters away in front of their families and no one else remembers.

Her mouth dries up.

"What do you mean?" She manages to get out.

He clicks his tongue. "Stop it. You know exactly what I mean, don't you?"

"Frankly, I don't understand a single thing you say or do. Nor I want to."

He purses his lip. "I could peel your skin off from talking to me like that, little thing."

She gulps, lifting her chin up. "And what's stopping you?"

He sits up, creating some distance between them. Nesta feels like she can breathe again.

"There are better ways to discipline pets. Besides," he drawls. "I'll hate to spill blood in my bed."

She grits her teeth, terror and rage tangled within her. Of course, that would be the main concern for an egotistical, twisted monster like him.

Wait.

He said his bed.

Suddenly, the chain feels like it’s burning, and not because she’s pulling it. A wave of shame, disgust, and fury creeps over her skin.

"You son of a bitch." She doesn't even think how improper it is to curse like that, how dissapointed her mother would be. She lunges at him, catching him by surprise enough to wrap her hands around his throat.

Blood is rushing to her ears. His bed. He chained her up to his bed. It all dawns to her. Calling her pet. All those suggestive taunts. Getting all over her personal space.

It seems like men are all the same, regardless of the race.

She won't let it happen. Absolutely not. He's writhing under her, grabbing her wrists painfully hard, but she ignores it. He didn't see it coming, which gives Nesta the advantage she needs.

She'll kill him before he gets to lay a singer finger on her. Fae, deadly as they are, are still made of skin that can bleed. And bones that can be broken.

Nesta's fingers dig into his throat, her nails pressing against his skin as she leans all her weight into her grip. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out everything but the single-minded determination to stop him—forever. The fury coursing through her is a potent fire, pushing aside all rational thought.

He snarls beneath her, his fingers biting into her wrists in an attempt to pry her hands away, but she holds on with a ferocity that surprises them both. His skin is warm beneath her touch, too human for someone like him. The thought only fuels her, and she presses harder, her knuckles whitening with the strain.

"Enough," he growls, his voice tight, his eyes darkening with anger. But she doesn’t stop; she won’t stop. She’ll make him pay for every single one of his twisted words, his taunts, his degradation. She’s done letting men think they have any right over her.

A flicker of something flashes in his eyes—understanding? Perhaps even a touch of respect? But he grins up at her, a cruel, sharp smile that twists his handsome face into something chilling. With a swift, forceful move, he shifts beneath her, breaking her hold and pinning her wrists above her head with ease, trapping her in place beneath him.

Nesta resists with all her desesperation, kicking and scratching, her efforts becoming obviously futile. He has an inhuman strenght, not to mention his powers, but it'll be a cold day in hell before she gives up.

"Well, well," he murmurs, a wicked grin in his mouth, "and here I thought you couldn't surprise me more."

She glares up at him, her fury still burning, her breathing ragged, unyielding. She feels no regret. Whatever happens now, she'll face it with dignity.

His grip tightens, but she doesn't waver.

"You think you’re so brave, right?" he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. It’s almost gentle, deceptively soft, but she can hear the threat coiling beneath it. She pissed him off.

He leans in close, the shadow of his breath against her cheek. His lips brush her ear as he speaks, the touch so light it’s barely there. "But I wonder… how much of that is real? And how much is just an act to protect your pride?"

Nesta swallows, her throat suddenly dry, but she manages to keep her voice steady. "Why don’t you try me and find out?" she bites out, her tone cold and daring, even as she feels the tremor building in her hands.

It's foolish, really. She has no way of defending herself, even if she wasn't chained. There's nothing for him to find out.

His smile widens, and she hates how he seems to find this all so amusing—how he treats her defiance as a game rather than a challenge. But there's a shift in his gaze then, something darker and more dangerous than the playful facade he’s kept up until now. His hand comes up to her face, but instead of grabbing her harshly, he traces a finger along her jawline, a feather-light touch that makes her skin prickle. Not entirely by fear.

She hates it.

"I just might, dear," he says, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a low, velvety purr. "But don’t worry… I’ve got all the time in the world."

She can feel the chain around her ankle pulling taut as she instinctively tries to edge away, but she forces herself to stop. Refuses to give him any hint of how much his words have shaken her.

Nesta matches his gaze with all the fire she can muster, letting her fury rise to the surface.

"All the time in the world to be disappointed, then," she hisses, eyes blazing as she looks into his, lifting her chin up. "Because you’ll get nothing from me. I'll never give you anything."

A beat of silence passes, and for the first time, she sees his expression falter, just slightly—a flash of something inscrutable crossing his features. His fingers pause against her skin, the warmth of his touch lingering as he studies her with an intensity that makes her feel as though he’s peeling away every layer of her resolve. Seeing through her.

But then, just as quickly, the mask of amusement returns, and he leans back, releasing the tension between them.

"Of course," he says simply, rising back to his knees. His voice carries a note of satisfaction, a promise of further games to come. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He steps back from the bed, leaving her with the firelight casting long shadows across his retreating form. She can only stare at him, words dead in her throat.

"You can have the bed. Don't worry, we won't share it. I barely use it anyway."

He shoves his hands down his pockets, walking away in a nonchalant way. He turns his head at her one last time, his eyes connecting with hers. Something shifts in the air.

Nesta tenses.

"By the way," he snapped his fingers. "There. A little gift—for having the balls to try that."

It's only when he shuts the door behind him when she looks at the gift.

A trail of warm food placed in the table right besides the bed. Just by the smell alone, Nesta can tell last time she ate something like that was when her mother was still alive.

Hesitantly, she reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush against the edge of the tray. Her gaze remains fixed on the door, as if he might return any moment to snatch it all away, or mock her for daring to accept his so-called gift.

She picks up a piece of bread, bringing it to her lips, and nearly flinches at the warmth, at how it softens the edge of her hunger. She forgot how it was. The water is cool, soothing her parched throat, and each bite steadies her just a little more.

As she munches eagerly, a realization hits her:

She doesn't even know his name.

[as8bakwthesage]

BTAS! Jonathan getting flustered thinking about his partner, him calling them all kinds of cute nicknames ("pumpkin", "darling", "babydoll" in his southern accent, "beloved", etc.), telling anybody who'd listen about his partner and being the sappiest sap to ever sap, making food for them as a gesture of love, as Scarecrow professing his love to his partner while dousing people with gas, worshipping them as his partner in crime, "the emotions I feel when I have gassed the entire city of Gotham doesn't compare in any meaning of the word to the love I feel for you", him being kinda awkward in bed before slowly getting really good at it...

Just... GAAHHHH-

[morganski-19]

WIP Wednesday

“Farm boy,” Nancy calls out, stepping through the stable. Coming toe to toe with Robin. “Tell me why you call me ‘Buttercup.’”

Robin smirks, leaning her pitchfork against the stable walls. “Only if you tell me why you insist on calling me ‘Farm Boy’. Which I am not.”

Nancy huffs, crossing her arms. Frustrated that Robin has finally refused to do what she said. “It is because you wear men’s clothes. And your hair back in that ponytail. If one were not paying attention, they would mistake you for a common farm boy.”

Robin never once breaks Nancy’s gaze. “But I am not, am I? A common farm boy.”

“No,” Nancy responds, voice hushed to a whisper. “You are not.”

Silence between them grows stiff with tension. Their faces so close they can feel the other’s breath.

Nancy breaks it, turning her head away from Robin’s stare. The hairs on her neck still feeling it’s presence. She fights the blood rushing to her cheeks. “You never answered my question. Why do you call me that name?”

Robin steps away from Nancy, heading to the stable doors. Nancy stands, confused with the negligence to answer her question. Until Robin turns back to look at her, hair falling out of it’s tie and blue eyes meeting hers. The setting sun illuminating her outstretched hand.

“Well, aren’t you coming?”

[boyfleshripper]

Might as well post these ackshually . Messy doodles with my mask oc remy and @lethalcontracts 's oc clay :)

I'm not proud enough of these to tag them but erm . ERM! GET THAT GUY RIGHT NOW!

[streamdotpng]

Enid can act like she hates Wednesday for what she did, but she will pause and she will stare during Wednesday's introduction

Because honestly?

The nightshade leader had no right to look so breathtaking. Maybe it's been so long or maybe it's the fact that she's literally just a stage away, but the moment Wednesday's hood dropped? So did Enid's mouth.

She's so pretty...

Enid's jaw tightens, absolutely thankful for the muzzle lining her mouth. The bars were thick enough that anyone far away wouldn't be aware of the way her teeth peaked and ached inbetween her lips.

Absolutely gorgeous.

"boss?" skoll asks, his brows pinching in worry and he follows where his alpha is staring. The beta scoffs at what he sees and like her, he bares his teeth."we'll beat their ass Big E, that I promise."

Enid doesn't say a thing, instead pressing her tongue along her teeth in anticipation.

"you actually say something right for once," Enid says, finally dragging her eyes away when the rest of the nightshades reveal themself. "I wonder what they have in store."

Skoll nods, puffing his chest out. "I always do!" and his smile is wild as he continues. "and no matter what they'll bring, we'll beat their ass! Absolutely pummel them to the ground and leave them gasping for mercy!"

Enid humms and she watches Wednesday leave her sight.

"can't wait to see that."

[licollisa]

Fuck lineart all my homies hate lineart

[questioningpunctuation]

i love how no matter what ed does, it has to be showy and dramatic. his desperate need to be seen and acknowledged as a person being part of the reason he makes all these elaborate schemes is just.. aswtgkfh!!! (/pos)

[34saveme34]

smg4 and smg3 when they see my username they be like

we can't fucking save you bitch, die lol

[toshidou]

Now that my posts are in the tags again, I can finally reveal what I've been working on for the past few days! Introducing what is going to be my first multi-chaptered Simon x Reader fic! It will be a slow burn, ex's to lovers <3

Every chapter has been fully outlined, and I'm going to start writing them up very soon! I will post each chapter as it's completed, so please be patient with me <3

[gethoce]

Quick ref of Chiro because why not. Changed some colors around to be generally brighter and make some connections more obvious.

Most of Chiro's lore got already touched upon in Melem's post, so why not discuss their life before they met her and what that means for the future ~

Same as Gooey used to be part of Zero's Dark Matter Tribe, Chiro originated from a tribe of their own! Their leader is known as Gatteka, an ancient Dark Matter that inhabits their own pocket of the universe. Melem managed to separate weak members of the tribe, which lived near the border of the territory, one of which became Chiro.

At the time Gatteka couldn't care less. Weak tribemates vanish all the time and are of no concern to them. However, if a lost child was to become powerful enough to claim territory, then Gatteka would be more than happy to bring the rest of the tribe over to hold the position.

Gatteka's body is massive, large enough to eclipse the suns of most planets with ease. The darkness this creates makes it more difficult for their victims to escape their grasp. If they were to be destroyed near a planet it is almost guaranteed that their demise would also obliterate any nearby celestial bodies.

Luckily they've been passive for aeons, almost forgotten by most, so there was no active need to get rid of them. At least so it was believed. Perhaps they could have been prevented from becoming as powerful.

Chiro doesn't remember their life within the tribe, at least not actively. Upon meeting Gatteka they may be able to recall a few memories. Memories that are probably better off unremembered.