#it'll be in its own realm of creation

[oreana-galena]

Writing twisted villains is a fun past time; especially for this story commission. lol

First time writing Dimentio, but it's proving fun because--fuck it. My gijinka King Boo makes and protects worlds that he creates with his magic paintbrushes and Dimentio loves to come in and mess it up.

Now bed. Z_Z

[radiance1]

Mechanical eastern dragon.

Danny, ever since he was a wee little lad, about 5 or so. Really liked eastern dragons since he found out about them, so much so that he even tried to make his own little eastern dragons!

When Jack saw that, it seemed to strike something in him and suddenly Danny found himself having a more experienced hand aiding him in his crafts.

Jack started directing him towards something simpler than a dragon when he was first starting out, then over time gradually let him make certain parts of a dragon instead of all at once, then when they were all complete, they stuck them together and Danny? Well, he found out why his dad liked to build so much.

So, he started to build more and more little things, small yet complex that'll eventually come together to form his eastern dragon.

As he got older, and his parents became more and more focused on their portal project, he eventually decided that, hey, why doesn't he just make a giant version of his little crafts?

An actual dragon.

Of course, such a thing was no easy feat, so he started it just like his dad taught him too, little pieces over time that'll eventually come together to make what will essentially be his masterpiece.

However, he lacks the parts to do so.

Well, not exactly considering there's a lot of household things he could take apart for scrap, but his parents are already doing that, plus he wants way better materials that'll really shape this up to be his mastepiece.

So he took to instead drawing out how it'll look, and creating various minor pieces that'll go into powering it and stuff. He took some of the ectoplasmic batteries his parents' didn't have a use for anymore, and kinda just, fused them together?

Either way, he made a core that'll be the basis of power for his dragon when he completes! Of course, it'll have to go over multiple modifications over the years while he refines the design for his dragon, to make it able to hold more energy, more durable and far more powerful.

He won't lie, he was both extremely suspicious and immensely grateful when Sam gave him a diamond of all things to make a battery out of, because she obviously wanted something outta it. What did she want? Dibs on being one of the first too see his creation when its finished.

Very simple, plus she said her parents could buy another one anyways. Ah, the joys of being rich.

Then he heard from his parents about how their portal works, though he wasn't too interested since he was too busy building the skeleton of his dragon from the parts Sam gave him.

Tucker, who was dabbling in coding, decided that he was going to attempt to create a high level AI for Danny's project, which Danny was all for! Great materials provided by his friend, and then his other one wanted to make an AI specifically for his masterpiece?

Why would he ever say no?

Jazz has been acting pretty weird thought lately, he noticed a bit after the day he was made aware of how his parents' portal managed to work, how he still isn't sure, nor did he actually believe there was a realm of the dead but eh. He would admit, he wasn't terribly close with his sister, ever since he started up his master work, and became a fink, but he could tell something was different.

Really only because she seemed to be finally getting off his case about how much work he's putting into his dragon and less into taking care of himself properly, which she usually does by bossing him around. But he thinks she's just busy, and is too busy to even care at this point so it didn't really matter.

He was a bit blindsided by ghosts actually being real but easily accepted it to be honest. Like, he's been using stuff powered by ectoplasm that ghosts are supposedly made of, so it wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, a ghost fighting against another ghost was new, different from what his parents had told him, but it was nice to have someone protecting the town other than his parents at the very least.

As he got closer and closer to finishing his masterpiece, and as Tucker himself almost finishing with the AI, his grades weren't receiving that much attention, he would admit. He would look back at them when he completed it, alright? But not now.

Then came a day where he was saved from a ghost attack by Amity Park's hero, and while he was extremely tired, he recognized that bossiness, snobbish attitude and smothering from anywhere. Did he expect his sister to be the ghostly town hero? No, no he did not.

Was he going to tell anyone? Not really, he cared, but he didn't care that much about to go around talking about it. Also, wasn't his place to spill his sister's secret really.

Also, she didn't know he knew, and he planned to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

Just as he was nearing his completion, only having just a few finishing touches before it was ready for the AI to be uploaded to it, a test popped that he apparently had to study for, with his sister already passing with flying colors (which just proves how much smarter she is than him, because she fights ghosts regularly, he doesn't, doing something much safer and what does he have to show for it?) and urging him to study. Which, with her attitude that got even worse, after becoming half-ghost and a hero, he just, couldn't take.

He's thankful that ghost came when they did, because he just couldn't stand her any longer than that. So he just popped over to Nasty Burger instead, removing himself far as he could from that fight, and of course, of course said fight had to end up there.

The universe just hates him, it seemed. On the plus side, he managed to snag the answer sheet to that C.A.T. test his sister was nagging him about, why would he study if he has this now? Besides, he has something more important to do anyways.

Then a while he's confronted by his sister's apparent alternate evil future self after he dropped his knowledge of her secret in attempts to stave off the conversation of him cheating, which, now that he thought of it, was probably better than finding out and subsequently being knocked out by his sister's alternate self.

Thankfully, when he next awoke, he found his project was perfectly untouched, and then had to leave to take the test. He'll figure out a way to deal with his sister's future self later. While later, he finished the test, and was finally glad to be able to add the last touches to his project.

Oh, right, his sister's evil self. He almost forgot about her if he was being honest. So, he took the Fenton Peeler, and was going to go find his sister before he had to be called to Nasty Burger by his parents and, well, his 'sister' was there, and his cheating was already revealed and decided it's literally whatever and shot her.

Weird that he was separated from everyone else, but it's whatever. Sure, the sauce was going to explode and kill everyone, but he believed in his sister to come and save the day, as she always did and will continue doing and he told his sister's evil self that, and was incredibly smug when it happened.

He watched the fight, cheering a bit from the sidelines because, well, c'mon. It's not everyday he watches his sister beat her future self the up, and he might not get this chance ever again so might as well enjoy it while he can.

Unfortunately, he never accounted for his sister being too weak after said fight to help their parents', Mr. Lancer, and his friends, and then he saw them explode.

Then his sister disappeared.

He, very obviously, did not take this well at all. So, after he got back home, feeling both like shit and nothing at all, he stared at the almost finished eastern dragon sitting to the side of his bedroom/workshop, the only component missing being the AI bead, and promptly broke down crying.

He didn't cry earlier, but he just, couldn't contain himself. His parents were dead, his teacher was dead, and his two only best friends were dead too, and his sister disappeared in front of him and he had no idea where she could be.

He then cried himself to sleep.

Then he woke up, took up the AI bead, and inserted it into the dragon sluggishly.

It's completion was a solemn affair, rather than the bright and happy thing he expected and wanted. No one was around to marvel at his genius, too see the end result of what he tried for years to achieve, and no sister that he could rub it in her face about either.

He had nothing. Nothing but the product created from the combined efforts from him and his friends.

So, what was he to do?

Modify it, of course!

He threw all his attention into it, installing weapons, fiddling around with the core (That he had to take out and put back in) and giving it a lot of ghost shields, and other Fenton tech.

And for what? He doesn't know, but this, giant thing, somehow capable of growing and shrinking to his choosing (he still doesn't know how, even though he made the thing), installed to the brim with Fenton tech, is his.

And he'll use it to find his goddamn sister. Sure, they didn't have the greatest relationship, and sure, she wasn't the best to get along with, but she was the only thing he had left, and whoever took her could pry her from his and his dragon's goddamn hands.

Also, who would he rub his genius in the face of, if he didn't find her?

So, he took off to the zone, got lost, fought a few ghosts with his dragon and Fenton tech, and then ended up in another dimension full of heroes and villains. Did he care about that?

Fuck no.

But apparently, being a 14-year-old and fighting people off with his mechanical dragon was not a normal thing. Sure, he may have overreacted by having said dragon through his aggressors, who were normal humans by the way, through multiple walls, but in his defense.

It was their fault for trying him when he wasn't in the best of moods.

[rosepetalkitty]

ngl hdg kinda amazes me in its ability to cater to my kinks pretty much perfectly while simultaneously triggering several of the worst parts of my trauma.

like how is it that it hits on everything i like on the surface, provides semi-decent worldbuilding to back it all up and enable the creation of stories, and even has consistent backstory and stuff, and yet the entire damn thing instills this looming sense of dread and fear that i can't shake enough to properly enjoy it...

below the break im gonna talk in like. moderate detail. about the parts that scare me. so uh yeah be aware that it'll get heavy that's just how it is.

ok, so the worst thing for me. wellness checks. the idea is cute and kinda hot on the surface. "make sure you're okay and if you're not you're getting domesticated" (which is supposed to be like. a happy thing. "now you get to just chill and be happy and get taken care of forever and in return you give me only your submission"). yeah, fuck it, im into that. hell that's not even an uncommon trope in the realm of cnc/mc writing.

except whenever i read an hdg wellness check story (in the sense of those long-ish tumblr posts that people write—i haven't even really considered reading the longer form content on ao3) there's something viscerally... off... about the tone. it stops feeling like kink and starts feeling like a nightmare when things happen to line up just so, and then it clicks, and reminds me that i knew people, real people, who had "wellness checks" happen in real life, except that instead of it being a kink thing that made them happy and was genuinely for their wellbeing, it was that their parents had hired people to kidnap them and drag them to a psych ward when they just needed a therapist. not all of those people that i knew have come home, as far as im aware. some have been gone for years.

and what about the whole idea of the non-consensual part being okay because "it's for your own good". in hdg-land it is. it's genuinely good for you and everyone seems to be happy with it, other than the occasional "bad guy who hates good things" trope (feralists, in hdg, afaik). but that's exactly what they told me when they cut contact between my boyfriend and i while he was in the hospital. "it's for your own good." guess what, it wasn't. his parents didn't like our relationship. they wanted me to forget him. they either didn't understand or didn't care that i couldn't. it was a year and a half before he came home and i had forgotten nothing.

our loss of communication was the tipping point in a series of events that, had i made one decision differently in the end, would have killed me. thankfully i fucked it up and am here today, no longer in that bad of a place may i add. im choosing not to share any of what happened to me directly right now because i don't want to turn this into a full on trauma dump, but suffice it to say there are recurring themes.

it's so interesting to me because in a lot of ways i have found comfort from those experiences in kink and writing. take flames of averon: mech pilots are neurochemically bonded to their handlers. how different is this from what the affini do to their florets? well, you have to sign up to be a pilot, and there's no authority in the world threatening you if you choose not to. even the coalition military wouldn't dare force you to become a pilot against your will, though they might never stop sending you promotional flyers if they find out you're able to tolerate the cyberware /lh

hell, im into cnc. im really into it. i chose to leave it as an opening between pilots and handlers in foa. the implication exists that if a handler tells their pilot to do something the poor thing will have a hell of a time saying no. that's intentional. it's hot to me, on either end. but the safety comes from other things.

yes, your handler has a lot of influence over you at a level that's hard to imagine, but you chose them and they chose you (most of the time), or at the very least neither of you had any complaints to raise with your supervisor when the paperwork came in for syncing your link chips (holly and astrid from seat of consciousness).

yes it's true, you can't be reassigned now that you're bonded, but that doesn't mean you have zero recourse if your handler is treating you badly. if you need to, you can always file paperwork with your commanding officer to request that something be done.

plus, handlers go through a lot of training, which includes screening to filter out people who would actually harm their pilots. yeah, some handlers are a little sadistic, but when it comes down to it they are on your side. if that wasn't the case they would never have passed pre-basic.

put another way, as a pilot in flames of averon, the closest thing ive ever written to a floret, there are a multitude of points at which you could have said no and didn't, and although that's obviously still noncon in the grand scheme of things, it's "signing away your freedom" cnc compared to the hdg flavor of "you 'consented' via it being the best thing for you whether you like it or not."

even if your handler just told you to "stay" for the first time and you're currently panicking and trying to figure out why your legs won't move, you still have some tiny amount of agency—an escape hatch, so to speak—and you'll just never end up having to use it.

and to me, the loss of that minute level of agency which will never be invoked is the difference between "this is hot as hell and feels perfectly safe" and "this is the abuse that was once leveraged against those i cared about, and to some degree myself, and it's simply been repackaged with a kink sticker slapped on."

none of this is to say i hate hdg, it's fans, those who write about it, or even the parts of it which scare me. i do think the idea is hot. hdg is pretty cool. hell, it was one of my inspirations in writing a lot of the pilot/handler dynamics in flames of averon. but it does scare me. and no matter what i tell myself i can't shake that fear.

it's frustrating, because oftentimes fear can be part of what makes something hot, but the particular flavor of fear which hdg instills in me is one which makes bitter all that it reaches. maybe someday i'll grow out of it. the traumatic memories from which that fear stems were only created in the past couple of years, to be fair. but something tells me a piece of that fear will never be fully dislodged from my mind.

so, all this to say, while i am into hdg, it's a complicated relationship.

(and on a sillier in character note to lighten the mood—please feel free to respond to this with roleplay or whatever you like!)

to any Affini out there who might be reading this, know that im not scared of you. im not scared of what you represent. im only scared by the fact that you mimic that which has left the scars you see on my soul today. im not against being taken in as a floret, and none of this is to say that i hold any level of disdain for you.

i only ask that you be gentle with me. what has been broken once can be broken again. please, do not let it come to that.

[hisuianhellion]

An End to the Endless Sea

Violence. Blood. Death. Eldritch imagery/themes. You have been warned.

But you have also been invited to see a being of immense power fall to a beast of its own creation. The Crimson Beast is here. And she's not letting her prey escape.

Should you see an underlined word or phrase, do be sure to click it as well. It'll give you abundant context should you not be aware of Bloodborne.

There was a sense of potency to the air... The Crimson Beast settled herself upon a small hill overlooking the pleasant sway of waves. The rain had cleared from the realm, the quieting of the soft sobs of an orphan having managed to settle the skies in turn. A momentary reprieve as the clouds ceased their assault upon the emotions of the world itself. Aryn sat quietly beside the water's edge, the smooth caress of the waves a sound to match as he let a cloth run down his Bowblade. Bloodied, but not too badly battered, the other beastly Hunter peered up towards Crimson in silence as she stared unblinkingly towards the sea.

She was not a human, much like him, but Beasthood had "claimed" her in a way that none but two had ever visibly held any control over. Her fur was the color of the blood she had been bathed in countless times over, a deep red that settled upon her body with a flow not unlike the water abound. Her snout upturned, uncovered by the cowl she had used for the nights prior, bright blue eyes piercing through the overcast evening view of the open ocean despite one having a faint cover of a cloud upon itself. The hat she had worn for her stays in Yharnam had settled rather easily between her wolfish ears, and as she stood gradually, her body shifted to make sure her Hunter's Garb was still firmly upon it. Having a known tailor in the Dream made for an easy adjustment as she slipped her black cowl back on.

Aryn was wordless as he watched her begin to approach. The ease at which she moved, even with one of her eyes functioning in a less than ideal way, was always confident. Always lacking fear. Always exuding authority. Her hand reached over to the open air around the edge of the water as she passed by her companion for this Hunt, and grasped onto the open air. She knew the shade had been there. Aryn had cleaved it cleanly out of mercy to let the child rest... she simply had to make sure.

But her trek forward stayed firm. The wolfish Hunter quietly let her heels step along the water in front of them, shallow as it was. The sounds of the crashing waves was light thanks to the movement of the sea before them being calm... Anticipation was welling in Crimson's breast as she continued to walk forward. She knew what she was feeling. Her eyes were focused ahead. Her body was stalwart and steady. And even as the water deepened the further she walked...

Her stature never lowered. She stayed upon the surface. Her boots softly stamped down along the water, faint splashes of salty mist pushing up from each step while she ventured forward. But eventually... she stopped. A peer upwards to stare into the iris of the celestial sky above her, and the wind began to calm, ceasing in mere moments to allow a deathly quiet air to settle upon the beast. She didn't know how far she had walked. All she knew was that open water was in front of her, beside her, below her.

Below her... She knew what she was feeling. Her eyes ticked down. And she saw herself.

Freckles dotted a pale, sun-starved complexion. Bedraggled hair, never brushed but always combed, draped along her face with the peak of a light brown ponytail visible as the woman compared herself to her reflection. A light teal hoodie, too large but perfectly sized, blanketed her other self's torso. Glasses upon her eyes revealed a blue gaze matching Crimson's own, but the exhaustion in the mirror was apparent.

Crimson knew what she was feeling.

She slowly let her hand reach down. Her reflection matched. She knelt, placing a hand upon the water, palm to paw. The bottom of the sea could not be seen. Only two roses, plucked from their bush and forced to live in ways they couldn't dream of enjoying. One made it work. The reflection she saw was languishing... but could help.

Crimson nodded and loosened her arm to allow it to lay limp upon the water.

Rose gave a smile in response, her hand reaching out to grab onto Crimson's wrist.

The motion was smooth. Like gliding through air, the plunge held no friction. The sound of diving down pushed through the wolf's body as she was torn into the sea, her form subtly shifting as she descended. Her eyes stayed open as she squinted to let the surface tension settle while she was pulled under. Bubbles flicked about her body and through the water to flicker back to the surface... but as she felt herself falling...

So too did the bubbles' re-ascent towards open air stop. The other Rose was gone. In her place... was Crimson. A human once more. Her hair a bright red, yes, but her skin was once again light, her cheeks capable of feeling the water caress them easier, her hands gloved once more with no claws to be wary of.

Crimson felt herself float there for what felt like an eternity. Before her feet found purchase again. A glance down... and she saw the surface of the water. It accepted her. It welcomed her. It trapped her, her feet now standing upon a ceiling that should've been above.

Quietly, she peered about at the bubbles around her, warbling and flickering. Shimmering quietly in the light from below settling in... before they gradually began to shift down and away surface. Or rather, "upwards" towards the depths. Her perspective had flipped. As above, so below, her eyes peering up as her breathing stayed steady in the endless sea. One would've expected an abyss as they looked to its depths.

She simply saw the open water for what it truly was. And she knew what she was feeling as the stars above twinkled. They flitted about like bubbles searching for a surface, the colors of the sky unyielding in their beauty with hues the human language had yet to find descriptions for. Scarlet reds like her own fur, vibrant blues like her own eyes, purples and yellows and greens and oranges. Nebulae stretching out, curling around her sight and body to embrace her in the heat of the stars that granted this beauty. The stars themselves shimmered and bounced, moving as if dancing to the command of their canvas' painter. Planets twisted and turned in a slow ballet, Crimson's step allowing one to float by without interruption. Celestial bodies upon a painter's framed artwork...

And Crimson's eyes locked into one place to find the artist herself. A nebula. One pulled into a perfect iris, peering down from the center of it all.

That iris blinked. Kos. Kosm. The cosmos shifted, light warping around and below it. The painter had been watching. Waiting. Seeking to sway and swim about and claim yet another to her own bosom of control. But Crimson was not hers.

Death cannot be abided.

Crimson tilted her head as the voice, soft and somber, spoke like a song reaching her ears for the first time. The Hunter quietly began to approach as she settled a large, wrapped blade upon her shoulder. She knew this feeling.

Death has no place here.

Crimson's eyes squinted gently as she swiped a hand along the blade's edge. Moonlight from the cosmos around them clung to the metal to create a cutting edge far more shimmering than before, its size expanding as the Hunter continued to stalk towards her prey. This feeling was stronger than ever.

You and your kin are a curse. A force incapable of understanding its place.

"Only for gods incapable of understanding their 'lessers'."

Crimson truly knew what she was feeling. Her purpose in clear, crystalline clarity in front of herself.

She was Death. And Death could reach even the gods if change could not happen without their removal, her blade being pulled back and thrust upwards towards the god in her sights. It pierced. Pale blood spattered into the open water, fading just as soon as it had appeared.

The song began.

A siren's lament. A beast's rage. A bullet struck along the cosmic entity's arm as they swung their body to strike at Crimson. A guttural roar followed as her blade struck upwards to deflect the attack, swinging her body around to slam the moonlit edge into the back of the passing tail.

A mother's anguish. Another's fury. A call sounded out as Kos' waving hands clapped towards Crimson. Every star visible immediately shot down from beyond their limits to attempt to pierce through the intruder. One potently clipped the Hunter's shoulder, a grunt following before she countered with her own Call Beyond. And yet, the blasts did not come from her. They instead obeyed her in much the same way they had for Kosm... and all met their mark.

A god's fear. A usurper's righteousness. The cosmos were impartial, but unending. The massive god's hand gripped upon a nearby planet, swinging her arm smoothly to settle afterimages of it before her. A potent blue glow ripped along them all as they were flung viciously towards Crimson with reckless abandon. A shift to the side. A duck underneath. A prompt dispelling of the blade's potency as she tugged out her pistol and, as Kos attempted to slam down into the Hunter's body with her fists aglow with energy... a single bullet pierced the god's head.

Kos slumped, stunned at the impact as white blood splattered outwards into the water. And Crimson capitalized. Her arm pulled back. Claws reformed along her hand, piercing through the gloves as she snarled harshly. She thrust, jamming her entire fist sharply into the neck and upper chest of the cosmic being before her. She inhaled slowly. She gripped just as gradually.

"Death cannot abide a god that cannot allow the world to change... Sleep."

She ripped.

Blackness. Abyssal blackness. A void of nothing immediately greeted Crimson's eyes while she peered upwards. No stars. No planets. Nothing. A look at her hand... it was gloved once more. She looked about quietly to her sides. Nothing. She glanced below her. Nothing. She sighed out, that same tired expression her reflection showed settling upon her cheeks. Gently, she held onto her blade, stroking a finger along its edge. The runes upon it shimmered, and she quietly closed her eyes.

It only made sense. If you kill the cosmos... they vanish.

A look upwards, and she sighed out in thought, her grip on the blade tightening as she felt her lip quiver.

She just wanted to be free of it. Free of all of this. Free to explore without fear of losing herself... of losing those she felt her bonds developing with.

She just wanted to survive for the night.

She just wanted to live.

She slowly reached out, the adrenaline beginning to settle away as her cheeks tingled. Her eyes watered. Her hand grasped at the void, but never found purchase.

Crimson's hand settled above her, visible to none but herself in the glow of her blade's light, palm upturned. Like Gehrman. Like Maria. In an open prayer one last time. The one god that could even hear it, though, was dead... with only a Hunter remaining--

A clawed hand ripped down. "GOTCHA--" Breaching the surface of the water, it grasped directly onto her wrist, allowing her to latch on instinctively in return as her eyes widened promptly. She went to speak... and water filled her lungs immediately, bubbles of her air pushing up as she was yanked cleanly out of the sea's embrace and tugged up into Aryn's arms. "Crimson? Shit, she's waterlogged--" His voice sounded almost distant for a moment before she gave a prompt lurch forward.

Her hands hit the water, then sunk underneath of it, claws visible to her as she immediately expelled what water was within her. It spewed out messily and wetly into the open, salty expanse about, and she shuddered as she rolled onto her side. Her snout was visible again to her eyes, a sign that she was back in her beastly form. She panted softly in response, blinking as Aryn checked over her intently. His eyes scanned, his hands searched for injuries, and Crimson panted idly as the exhaustion finally began to settle in.

"... I think... she's gone..." Her eyes peered down for a moment, a cough racking her body in a quake. "... for better or... fuh-... for worse." Aryn paused his field medic assault with a bell in his hand, only to slowly lean back and smile a bit knowingly.

"I think I might lean towards 'better'. Look." A point upwards let Crimson's eyes adjust to the difference. There was no more iris. There was no more cloud cover in the least.

Only a broad open sky with the stars shimmering brightly and the cosmos' dance allowed to continue. She hadn't ended them.

She had freed them.

[catonator]

You hear about video game development?

Well. I wouldn't say I expected such a catastrophic implosion from Unity.

Now, I can't say that I didn't laugh at the situation. It's a hilariously terrible case of bad management coming up with bad ideas in desperation. But it's also a somewhat scary indication of the sorry state of the industry.

Unity controls about 40% of the engine marketshare (according to a linkedin post I found anyway). Unity dominates the engine scene by a large margin, followed by Unreal at around 30% and Cryengine by around 5%. Unity forms such a large part of the entire game development industry, that it's difficult to really even understand just how much they control the concept of games as a whole!

Most people are jumping to some paid alternatives, like the aforementioned Unreal and, to a lesser extent, Game Maker, but my suggestion is this: don't!

Within the last decade, all-encompassing closed super game engines have become less of a side venture and more of an expectation. Back in the 2000s, there were a few engines like this, mostly amateur ones. Game engines were less creation stations and more of a loose collection of middleware and tools. Purchasing the rights to the engine meant that you also got the responsibility of also tying the engine into something resembling a game yourself. I feel like this art has been lost.

Game engines nowadays are more of a purchase of a passing right to use and incredibly specific, closed set of tools. You don't get to define the tools, and you don't get to really own the tools. It's yet another example of the tradition of the games industry fucking over the customers, and the customers just going with it. Because of this, while Unreal got some free dunks on Twitter for this, I can assure you Epic is planning something equally terrible as Unity's PR faux pas, and it'll come into to play in about 3 years when everyone's just accepted that Unity sometimes financially screws you over.

But, game developers are indeed developers. They know software, and they can learn to make new software.

If you're a game dev and still reading this, I'd recommend taking a peek beyond the curtains of corporate cockfighting, into the realm of DIY game engines. It's a… somewhat janky world full of strange characters with unusual ideas on how much time it's acceptable to spend not working on a game, but it's also a place where you're not being sat on by fatcats.

Just as game engines have progressed in the past 20 years, so have libraries, middleware and resources for independents. Making your own engine isn't just picking up ANSI C and toiling for a year in software rendering hell. Open tools like Pygame, Monogame, LÖVE and Cocos2D (among many, many others) are far beyond just simple rendering libraries and border on being game engines sometimes. The difference is, these tools are open source, and they do not restrict you with what you can do with them.

There are several games you may have played made using these frameworks. Streets of Rage 4 (MonoGame), Celeste (MonoGame), Fez (XNA, aka. MonoGame), Miitomo (Cocos2D), Geometry Dash (Cocos2D)… I got tired of looking up more. There are a lot of games.

The future which I hope to see for game developers is one where you have a large assortment of simple tools you can pick. Level editors, asset converters, entity systems, all small chunks of a game engine you could drop into your own project to slowly build up your own collection of workflows to make games your own way, completely independent of any larger forces on the market.

The support for these frameworks is still somewhat barren compared to Unity, but I believe, that if more people jump to alternatives like this, more tools, tutorials and middleware built for them would start showing up. This is how Unity also got its start, about 15 years ago. You also really don't need all the power in the world to make your simple 2D Megaman clones. The fog created by the monolithic engines we have now have obscured just how simple the building blocks for your favourite games can really be.

It just takes some bravery and willingness to learn a new way to approach making games, but I think the outcome is worth it, even just for you.

[geekgirles]

Do you think the fight with the evil is really just over? It seems too soon.

Personally, nah, I think maybe Edred's sword got hijacked this time and it's lying in wait.

Hi, there! Thanks for asking!

No way is the fight already over.

On the one hand, because we're only six episodes in and though next episode seems like it'll be mostly focused on Edred, episode 8 promises to be as much of a shocker as episode 5 was and episode 9's synopsis explicitly says Unicorn will be in a place where the Evil is much more powerful.

And on the other hand, because so far the show's writing has been amazing, so I highly doubt they'd just end one of its main conflicts with Copernicus and Seng out for the count and Melinda fighting June Way to a standstill with only minimal assistance from Edred in under two minutes. It's just way too anticlimactic.

You theory is very interesting and seems plausible, and I also seem to remember a post of yours where you theorised the Evil actually wants access to the Magic Realm. While those are very interesting possibilities, I personally think it's Otto who wants access to the Magic Realm, or at least, whatever it is that powers Copernicus.

That's why I believe he orchestrated everything in The Mystery of Secrets, from betraying June Way to rebuilding Copernicus. After all, he said it himself: Copernicus definitely feels like one of his creations, only one he hasn't created yet. And if it turns out he needs something distinctively non-human to work...then I wouldn't be too surprised if Otto sent Dashwood or another one of his creations to follow our heroes into Edred's homeland and take some of that mysterious "blood" Seng was talking about for himself.

In fact, I'd go as far as to say he might be interested in stealing some so he can create his own Copernicus from scratch. Let's not forget our beloved robot guy was from the future by the time he was introduced to the original Unicorn, so another stable time loop where his creation is inspired by the heroes and himself is in order.

But going back to our previous point, forgive this tangent I've taken, the "final" fight has yet to come. Not only because of everything I already said, but also this:

Now this feels like a proper final confrontation!

Look at those ominous possessed cosmic creatures. Look at the scenery, how it seems like they are in the Cosmic Realm Seng is always in. I had to cut the screenshot, but down below there's what definitely looks like an army made of heroes. Honestly, I don't know what that furry grey thing on the left even is, but it seems ready to fight. (Maybe that's Winston's werewolf form? If so, how do we call it? Wolfston, WereWinston?)

My own personal theory is that, like Unicorn and their hosts, June Way is actually merged with the Evil herself or maybe even just another minion, instead of her actually being the Evil. That would explain why she also has a physical form when in the past the Evil was just sentient energy beings, or why her speech alternates between first person singular and plural. So with that in mind, either Edred only destroyed her, and not the entire evil entity, or the power she displayed was but a small sample of what the Evil is truly capable of and that's what Edred sealed away.

So yeah, the show still has a lot to offer before the season ends.

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

Once Golden Butter Cookie ever leaves the box/or wakes up (Really depends which au we're talking about here), will they ever get back into dollmaking?

I just find it interesting that even if the world and others have gone to create things far better than her own creations, I don't think that takes away the fact she can grant sentient life to her creations if she so wishes. She even made an entire realm for herself and her dolls which if you think about it, is really impressive on its own and it probably took months or years to create.

So even if she's burntout, I don't think that entirely means she's lost her creativity. I think the only reason she went through burnout in the first place was that she was stressing herself to create something noteworthy for the public to notice. So that you know, maybe there was justification for her to deserve HER SOUL JAM. So when she realized that she just couldn't keep up, what use was she to the world at this point...

Why is her corrupted attribute cowardice? Personally, I don't know, however when it comes to creativity, there's usually a risk involved. The courage to explore and experiment with new ideas, challenge expectations even if it'll face large or failure criticism. However, exploring new ideas is different from your own artistic identity. I'm assuming Golden Butter Cookie was trying to create things within the status quo required by the general public in order to remain as relevant as her friends, trying to create her own ideas and expound in those that resulted in failure and frustration too many times that she just gave up. I think her motivation also became a large factor in this too, that perhaps the things she was creating wasn't in her best interest. She has a literal army of dolls and toys, she probably has some workshop out there. But imagine her shifting from creating living toy companions that brought happiness and protection to children to sudden machines that should serve a purpose in making work easier. It's stressful and a bit hard to adapt to when you think about it. But what if she adapted her own dolls to make work easier? Sure it feels weird having some plush toy do some of the work, but it gets the job done. And I feel like unbeknownst to her, she managed to explore this idea a bit during her time in the toybox before succumbing to sleep.

But that makes you wonder, in all her years she spent wasting away in her toybox realm, why hadn't she ever discarded her own soul jam, or given it to someone much better than her...? Maybe because it was a gift from her own creators... Maybe it was her way of clinging to the small speck of hope that a part of who she once was is still there... Her purpose...

But honestly, maybe the world doesn't need her as much as they did before, but that doesnt mean her own friends don't need her. She's Golden Butter Cookie, whether she's some great inventor or not, she was an integral part of their life. She was important, not for her powers, but for her.

anon... anon I am shaking you so hard right now/verypos

This actually almost perfectly describes Goldie, i don't know how you did it anon, but you did! so congrats!! As for your first question, I don't think that Goldie would ever give up doll making in the first place. The dolls of the Toy-Box are basically her children and most cherished items/people, and making dolls is in fact, Goldie's passion.

In fact, Goldie's persona, Butterscotch Cookie, is a doll maker! Just a fun little fact.

As for why Golden Butter Cookie's corrupted attribute is cowardice... Well, it's a lot like you said. She was unwilling to break away from the norm, trying so desperately to be seen as useful like her fellow heroes. She didn't have Shadow Milk's knowledge, she wasn't as good at bringing smiles to others as Eternal Sugar was, she couldn't lead revolutions against the corrupt like Burning Spice did(in fact, maybe she feared change.), she couldn't find her own will like Mystic Flour could... And she was too much of a coward to stand by their sides, but she knew that silent salt would never do such a shameful thing as running away from the world to hide.

And then, when they became beasts, she was still too much of a coward to stand up for what was right. To fight against her friends. But how could she? She was just so much... less, compared to them. Hell, she can't even grow to their gargantuan size! How the hell was she supposed to be able to do... anything?

But she could have at least done something... right? But she was too much of a coward to do anything except hide away.

...

Also, about what you said about her adapting the dolls, yes that does indeed happen! There are gardeners, architects, builders, and many more types of dolls to fill the roles of a society within the toy-box! Goldie realized that she couldn't really do everything by herself, so she decided to make some dolls to give her a helping hand!

And as for why she didn't discard her soul jam... Well, it's an integral part of her. Her connection to it is baked into her dough and it isn't something she could easily rid herself of... if she even could. She still wants to cling to the dim hope that the Light of Creation supplies her with, it's voice is quiet... but it's still there.

And when all was said, and all was done, and when Goldie left the Toy-Box... She was ready to face her friends once again, even if it (metaphorically) killed her to do so. Because it wasn't her powers, her achievements, or her creations that they saw. They saw Golden Butter Cookie, nobody else, not a failure, not anything other than who she was.

And she was their friend.

[cinnamonest]

Yanderes that have the, “I will NOT let you interact with the outside world, especially filthy males!” mentality and a darling who doesn’t care about anything the yandere does, just really wants to go to the dentist cause they need jaw surgery and its incredibly painful. - 🍪

Okay this is more generalized but I actually really like the concept of "darling has a medical issue but to help you have to take them outside and interact with others", like what do you do? They're torn between wanting to keep you locked away, but not wanting you to get worse or be in pain.

Of those, though, a lot of it depends on how bad your problem is. If it's as simple as an ache like the mouth, or a minor wound or a common illness, well... you don't need to see a doctor or dentist or whatever. There's a good chance it'll heal on its own, right? You'll be fine. The problem is when sickness progresses to a more severe state, or more serious medical complications.

Of the core group fitting that descriptor, though, it's ultimately a matter of the resources available to them (as well as, of course, individual stubbornness). Diluc and Ayato both have a significant advantage that more or less ruins any opportunity you could have to fake an illness or wound and get away that way. Being wealthy and important, they can very easily just pay for a house visit from a doctor, dentist, pharmacist, any sort of medical professional. So basically it's a non-issue, as this way of taking care of it means that there's no chance for you to slip out of their grasp and go running off, but also, he can sit there and observe the entire time, ensuring nothing happens he wouldn't want. Even then, both have spent the entirety or the vast majority of their lives in their respective areas of residence, so they most likely have a few connections of individuals they trust to not ask too many questions and not say anything to anyone else. And even if trust isn't enough, doubling the payment will essentially ensure confidentiality.

Zhongli, Tighnari, and Albedo all have a similar approach: thinking they can take care of you themselves, and that there's no need for seeking outside help without first attempting to deal with it themselves. This is, obviously, a bit of an issue, as neither are really suited to be dealing with medical problems.

Unsurprisingly, this is most likely to work out under Tighnari's care, given he has an expansive knowledge of medicinal plants and the general ailments they're known to cure. However, this strategy is more likely to work out under Zhongli's efforts than Albedo's. See, while Albedo has more scientific knowledge, his is mostly in the realm of plants, inorganic materials, and raw chemicals. These are, as you can imagine, significantly different from people. Medical alchemy is one of the core subfields of the subject, but it's actually not his best area, he's much more inclined to synthesis and creation and chemistry and... you get the idea. Sometimes this ends up creating more problems than it solves. Zhongli on the other hand, despite not having any real medical background, actually knows a great deal about how to fix various ailments, cultural knowledge passed down over time. Think of it like how grandmas usually have little tricks of common items that work wonders, some even better than actual medicine. Aches and pains are cured with this, nausea with this, drowsiness with this... expect to drink a lot of various teas, too.

For something that isn't within their realm of knowledge, though, like anything needing to be removed or surgical procedure... they'd put it off as long as possible. But they're all three very realistic people, so eventually, they'd reach a point where they know they have to do something to spare you the pain or potential infection or rot. You'll be given a long, unsettling speech about the consequences of doing something you shouldn't, and you'll be watched like a hawk the entire time, but they will eventually let you go.

Xiao and Kaeya are in a similarly bad spot. Neither has any experience with medicine as a practice in any capacity, both are very strict on keeping you tucked away from the outside world, and perhaps both a bit inconsiderate in terms of prioritizing their imperatives over your discomfort. Xiao in particular also vastly overestimates the human body's capabilities, which is potentially dangerous for you -- what do you mean, you need to see a doctor for a broken bone? Doesn't it heal on its own in a couple of days? And a 106°/40° fever isn't really that bad, is it? You're probably making that up… at least at the opposite end, though, both will give you alcohol to help with the discomfort. Kaeya knows from experience, Xiao has heard that it helps human pains, both will procure it for you... but that can't solve the issue forever, of course.

In the end, similarly to the ones above, they'll take you to someone if it becomes bad enough, but it has to be like life-threatening bad, whereas the ones above would do it if you were just in a lot of pain. Not with these two -- pain is just something you'll have to endure… but hey, Kaeya will give you alcohol to numb it, so that's something.

Razor is by far the worst to be stuck with, though. In his mind, human medicine is unnecessary and useless. He's survived everything without it, so that means anyone can. You just need water and to sleep a lot. And if the condition of your issue gets worse? Drink more water. Infection of some kind? Clean it with water. Fever and chills? He'll carry you over to the river and set you down in it for a bit.

Your condition has to get really bad before he's willing to take you to a human medical professional of any kind. Like, verge-of-death bad. So unfortunately, if you have a minor issue like an ache, you're gonna be stuck with it for the foreseeable future.

[mushroom-for-art]

A non canon what if where May was never implanted with the synergy tainted megastone that'd become Darkness allowed to grow to her full potential.

Just a little different

Scientists checked their growing prices with morbid intrigue and slight boredom, the fetus they were growing were beginning to show features but growing far slower than they'd like. The lead scientist watched bubbles float rising in a growing tube behind the creation, looks like it was beginning to get pin feathers. He turned away in disgust of its appearance.

His judgements were cruel and harsh on each of those created critiquing the genetic splicing process and if the others had even done their job properly, snarled insults of what blithering idiots they must be. He stopped as he passed by some more disappointingly small bodies and took a step back to look between them at the tank behind. Passing past and towards the tank his footsteps heavy and furious.

"What is this?! Is this some joke?!" His voice barked as his subordinates flinched one of them anxiously approaching with a timid, "what is a joke sir?"

"THIS!" He grabbed their collar, yanking them forward and shoving the side of their face into the tank to look at the creature inside. "Now you tell me, what does that look like!"

The subordinate stammered face smooshed into the glass struggling to see as their breathing hitched in panic, "I, I don't know sir? It's! It's bigger than the others sir! Is that not good?"

The frustrated growl as the boss grit his teeth let them know they were indeed very wrong, wincing and letting out a whimper as their head was grabbed, hair tugged and once more shoving their face the front this time painfully into the glass.

"And can you tell me. Why. That. Is." His voice was harsh as he held his lesser in place. They struggled for an answer before swallowing in panic.

"It…it doesn't look like this one has uh, had any dna added or spliced into it, sir."

"And how exactly are you lot so stupid that something like this could've happened? Who signed off on this?!" His voice a snarl as he let go of his subordinate to storm off and check paperwork.

There was quite the uproar over it all that lasted a couple of days, followed by heavy debates on what to do with the undesirable subject. Some suggested leave it alive for spare parts, others said to keep and use, the rest suggesting to kill it off and start anew as it'd reject splicing now. One worker said to implant it with a mega stone with a known kill streak, free up the tank sooner add to the streak.

"No," the lead scientist finally decided, "we'll leave it to grow for now, it'll be a good example to show off and to buy us more time and resources if need be." And everyone went quiet to agree.

Inside a void unperceivable to most even other psychic types, consciousness' began to sense each other even as their bodies were small, stretching outwards in webs tapping experimentally curious floating prodding and wrapping tangling around each other. Energy shot across the wavelengths of consciousness that bloomed in different colors as time passed, bright spikes pulsating as they wove together until they started to finally take form.

They were clumsy, they didn't know what they were only that they happened to be. In the outside world a body jerked and kicked a little as in the psychic realm one of them began to create a foot. They swirled in a circle wanting to grab their own toes rolling around in the vast space as another began to make a tail. They copied each other as they formed picking up traits realizing what they all kind of looked like and then realizing the great differences as squeals of giggles and delight filled the once silent void, brainwaves spiking occasionally.

They flew around each other in a vast display of colors and features, they collided bumping and bonking into each other giggling as they flew around. A pale white one falling into a darker black one whose arms felt weird but they hadn't figured out why, an orange one spun around with her greener sibling. They played and laughed learning to communicate in their own special language of chirps and calls though sometimes they would bring words from the outside that they overheard even within their tanks.

The fusions continued to grow slowly, but their brainwaves were positive enough with how active they were they'd all be very powerful no doubt.

Until they weren't …

Scientist scrambled to stabilize the rapidly weakening form of the pale yellow creation, removing it from it's tank to perform surgery as its heart began to struggle. Within the void they started to seem so far away their voice a whisper despite being right with them, they started to cry.

"It hurts it hurts it hurts I'm hurting," they could only chirp in distress until their voice was gone too leaving the muted fading form. The others tried to comfort to find out what was wrong floating over. A green one tried to grab their hand only to phase right through.. That's not meant to happen. And, then they faded so much they were gone.

Scientists yelled clattering equipment and screaming at each other in rage and fury as the void felt so much emptier. They looked and searched, it must have been a game, their sibling couldn't be just gone!.... Right?

They couldn't find their missing pale sibling..

Soon more started to disappear too, sometimes it'd be over a few days weakening unnoticed or sometimes in a blink they'd just be gone despite seeming to be fine. The bright spectacle of their home becoming dimmer and dimmer as each light of their lives flickered out.

The scientists dissected and preserved each body as they theorized and ranted at each other.

The pure mewtwo outgrew her few remaining siblings but remained in her minds eye as small as they were as with time it was reduced down to only two left.

"I'm going to go soon," unprompted her sibling spoke as she looked at them.

"please don't.."

"I can't help it,"

"you can't leave me alone,"

"I don't want to..but it's getting hard to breathe.."

The orange hued one floated to her sibling as bubbles floated out their mouth as their organic lungs began to fill with fluids. Once more the scientists rushed to attempt to save the last surviving one breathing assistance and scalpels drawn.

"Please don't leave me alone I don't wanna be alone please please stay," she begged and chirped in their language trying to gently hold her siblings aware of her hands phasing through their weakening psychic appearance.

More bubbles flowing from their mouth and nostrils as they moved their mouth in soundless words. They wanted to speak but they couldn't they could feel the gunk filling their lungs they could feel their organic body suffocating.

"No one else is left but us!" The orange one continued to helplessly beg as her brainwaves spiked, she knew all her begging and pleading meant nothing that this wouldn't help, she moved her hand to gesture to the emptiness. "We need-" she turned back, her hands empty, "each other…" a faint droning in her ears as the void became near black once more save for the faint glow of her own body.

"No…." She opened and closed her hands, they were just here she just held them, "Nononono…" She moved frantic and panicked to search it must have been a bad joke of some kind no they couldn't be gone. The emptiness followed and consumed her as her glowing grew brighter brainwaves flaring.

"Someone stabilize that one!" the lead scientist snarled as a lower ranking went to administer sedatives.

The realization began to crawl into her mind, she stopped as her mind slipped floating in the void looking at her hands once more. Her organic body began to cry, beginning to weep as her mind screamed tank glass splintering.

"NOOO!!!" It was purely anguished as the scream ripped through her mind to the point it was projected outwardly as though screamed from her very throat.

Glass flew everywhere.

The force of the explosion knocking the scientists back into the walls of the room, glass scattered across the floor and some shards stabbed into the scientists soft flesh as their creation stood there before them. Her eyes were weeping and wide open. She stared forward at the dissection that had been occurring.

They watched her climb from her risen platform, and she was big, towering over the tallest staff member, a man of 6'2 as she slowly walked over to the tiny operating table on wheels.

She stopped and looked over the tiny body of her sibling, she tilted her head and leant down closer moving a hand and pausing to observe her palm before gently cupping the side of their unmoving face, more tears began to fall from her eyes as she started to wail in misery and pure heartbreak as she cupped their tiny face her other hand grasping the table as she rocked her head as she wailed and she screamed with her fresh vocal cords crying and screaming her heart out for the loss of her sibling the losses of all her siblings all her family gone as her tears splattered audibly on the metal table and the cooling skin of her baby sibling.

She brought her body closer and her forehead touched the cold wet forehead of her sibling nudging them softly unable to even know how to process everything that was happening when she finally lifted her head again to look she noticed the blood on the table.

Her eyes slowly moved from their face falling to their chest and stomach, skin cut open and pulled back, pale pink organs visible and stomach already partly pulled out as her hands started to shake. All she could see was tiny internal organs even as the blinked it's all she could see tiny lungs tiny heart as her ears buzzed with the drone of a machine.

She turned quickly on the first scientist she heard outside her state, she pinned them by their throat to the wall, a claw which previously had not existed summoned through sheer psychic will manifesting on the end of her finger pressing into their stomach with threatening intent to cut them from stomach to throat, snarling directly into their mind, 'WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM.'

The scientist let out a cry of agony at the voice violently screamed directly into their skull that made their eyes burn as they desperately scrabbled to grab at her arm and hand to try to free themselves.

"We, they were choking, we were trying to fix that but they died." They choked as her grip tightened.

'Did you do the same to the others.'

"We tried to save all of them! We truly did. But none of them made it."

She watched them sternly hand slowly releasing.

The lead scientist glanced to a subordinate besides him, "try to get that body preserved and put it with the others quickly."

Red and brains splattered across the wall as Mays eyes locked onto the lead scientist who did so poorly at an attempt of subtle whispering. The body of the scientist she had been choking laying on the floor without a head.

'Show me the others.' The lead scientist doubled over at the sensation of burning in his skull at the voice inside him.

"Go go show her." He hissed through his pain to his subordinate handing them his access key as they stumbled to their feet stumbling for the psychic voice that probed their mind. They could feel her cold watch as they prepared the body carefully closing up the vivisection and carefully wheeling the table to the storage room sensing with neck hairs prickled the creature they'd made following.

Their hands shook as they swiped the access card to the lock and stepped inside with the lights coming on in rows revealing the preserved bodies of all the others each having been cut open and observed post mortem in some way leaving them with clear noticeable scarring.

The creature stood in the doorway looking in as their eyes began to pick out and stop each one giving them their names mentally fury rising at the number labels, she turned her head observing jars labeled with tiny organs inside a weird fluid. The lights hurt her eyes as she felt her hands and arms shaking.

She looked down at her hands the room beginning to blur and stir uncomfortable hands practically trembling uncontrollably as a faint glowing illuminated from her burning her skin with how powerful it felt. Through her blurred vision she could see tiny colored hands grasping and holding hers with a sensation of company and extreme loneliness.

And the room began to burn.

Storm clouds blackened outside rapidly winds picking up to threatening degree as lightning started to beat down into the ground with cracks and shocks breaking away chunks of the building with each violent assault.

Flames whipped off of her body that quickly turned dark purple before shooting out from her body, scorching walls and erupting from the ceiling as the energy screamed into the growing storm. The scientists didn't get any chance to escape as flames began to engulf the whole lab rapidly.

The only thing safe from the blaze the orange hued mewtwo who floated slowly into the air, they twirled and the air picked up beginning to spin and warp rapidly growing in speed as they swallowed some of the flames and wielded the lighting. The twister spun and ripped up everything in its path picking up and throwing the large slabs of concrete as though they were nothing.

Inside a protective ball in the center of the tornado the two curled in on themselves as destruction roared around them, it was only when the building leveled and burnt to nothing but ash and some charred bones did the storm begin to dissipate. Clouds parting and wisps of twister fading she observed feeling no satisfaction as she turned and flew away.

[tidesfate]

How does Mora feel about mortals passing through its realm? Does it want Apocrypha to remain more insular, something where it can better regulate what comes in and out, or does it see opportunity in these incursions by mortals outside of its own control?

❛[ UNPROMPTED ASKS ≻ always accepting !

If you were to ask Mora itself, it would state that near all who come to Apocrypha are within its control to some degree. In the cases of things such as the Black Books being used as a method of entrance, in the way of them being basically keys, this is correct. However, it can not control who grabs these books, it can only bar entry. These are also not the only method that can be used to enter, either. While most "organic" entrances lay in areas most mortals can not easily enter (such as deep within the sea), these are not the full extent.

Luckily, Mora does not actually have many issues with these visitations and wanderings that it has not directly invited. Mortals are of little worry to the Prince, and provide more benefit in reality. You can find various watchlings or other creations of Moras state that it finds mortals to be fascinating and interesting in spite of any statements it makes that belittles mortal existence. Mortals are one of the few things that can end up surprising Mora, and it is from their existence it truly can feed and grow after the majority of creation and reality has been understood and known by it.

This is also why you'll find Apocrypha acts much like a trap. It is far easier to enter then it is to leave it. Mortals have all the knowledge their minds can handle once they enter Apocrypha, but many will find the way out the one truth that escape many of them. A number of these mortals become Ciphers- people who live within and maintain many aspects of the realm. The unlucky ones may become the Hushed, or perhaps Seekers and Lurkers. Some remain as ghosts wandering the realm, others trapped as mere brains within a jar. Much more enters Apocrypha then leaves it.

Though as time has passed, both with the compact and especially after the events of the Oblivion Crisis, fewer mortals do come to Apocrypha. Entrance has become more difficult, requiring more direct interaction on Moras part which is limited. Many of what mortals did exist have either died due to the natural dangers of the realm or transformed. Much like the general whole of reality, this lack of new mortals has left little for Mora to gain new and consume.

The lack of mortals does negatively impact Mora but it'll never admit that

[pepsi1]

P:// ...

"..."

P:// So uh... want a drink?

"?"

P:// I know I beat you into a bloody pulp but you deserved it.

"I always do... Fuck it, what do you have?"

P:// That friend of yours, Bismol. He made a bad batch of moonshine, it'll blind the fuck out of regular humans. 190 proof.

"Sounds fun! Pour me a glass"

P:// So you really have changed... It's weird to hear excitement from you. Of course it could only be the devil that can change you.

[He throws a jug to Pepsi filled with the moonshine and Pepsi catches it]

"He uh... he did play a part."

P:// You have more to say?

[Pepsi chugs a quarter of the jug with a bit of strain before speaking again]

"Listen. I'm sorry. For everything. But it wasn't just Paint that's making me say that... I snapped when you mentioned Ariel. I thought I had terrified you. I am glad you still had it in you to beat the shit out of me.

P:// You are avoiding a more interesting conversation giving me such fucked up praise. I won't follw that tangent.

"It wasn't just Paint. It was his own creator. The antithesis to my realm of divinity. And it was their doing in setting me on a path I had long deviated from... We only had a conversation and I may have fornicated with them or I might still be doing so."

P:// Stop trying to deviate. I don't like hearing about the fucked up sex you have.

"...It's not like I can talk to Frita or Bee and you know damn well Caleb doesn't care. You're my only friend."

P:// Oh yeah, sure, the robot you made that hates your guts.

"I mean it. You're the only honest bastard I know. Paint, while I am his confidant, I cannot confide any of my thoughts or emotions to him without a very annoying interrogation of my words and a willingness to enact chaos on my behalf that I did not ask for. You are simple, to the point, and know me best... It's why you let me ramble at times even with your supposed hatred and ability to rip my jaw clean off."

P:// ...

"The point is, I was being trained in my own divinity by the very concept of its antithesis and I... Our souls are healed, fully. I'm certain you have noticed a wane in your anger, though you attribute it to parenting Kitty and wanting to be better than me as a father. The burden of regret lays heavy on a soul that can no longer ignore it.

P:// I was laying into you pretty hard and you have had a lethal amount of moonshine. Is your brain finally rotted?

"And yet I'm the only one you can truly harm aren't I? You know there's no long term consequence in doing so. You couldn't bring yourself to hurt Frita or anybody else if you wanted to, could you?"

P:// This is not an interrogation of my character and if you turn it into one I will replace your skeleton again and... and... ...hm. I suppose I have stopped considering harm upon others through you. Proceed.

"I think I was depressed. I think I still am, but I'm getting better. I'm starting to look for purpose again. I'm starting to remember why I learned guitar and other frivolous arts as a human. I think I'm becoming more human, more... More me. I have hated who I am for literal uncountable spans of time. I still think I deserve hell. Hell does not want me though, it thinks I've suffered more than enough."

P:// It took you this long to figure out you're depressed? What, did you think you were a glutton of pain for fun? I know you've hidden how much torture truly puts you through hell, it's why I still do it when you think it does nothing for you anymore.

"..."

P:// You can't hide pain from me, I think you've forgotten how I was designed and the original intent behind my programming.

"I have but yes, it did take me this long. Because until recently, I fully believed I was still in Hell. That all the bad things that happened were deserved. That you were a demon mocking my creations. That if I ignored pain and suffering it would eventually be far too normal to consider. That if I was the only one hurting that it would not matter to anyone else... But that isn't true. And it hurts to know it. And... And I've wasted so much time by doing nothing about any of those I still feel guilt for hurting. I have done nothing for those I could still help or can come to help in the future. It's why Ariel's name sent me in a frenzy... I was a dad who let his daughter die and be forgotten. I am a dad, who would rather his sons hate him than ever feel love for him. I am a monster for wanting to be hated like one..."

P:// ...

"I know you won't pity me Phoenix, it's why you're my friend. I have hurt you and your siblings, and for the longest time you were the only part of me smart enough to feel angry about it. But now you have your own soul, wholly yours."

[Pepsi chugs the rest of the moonshine and his eyes turn a glowing white as he loses his vision]

P:// God I wish I could get drunk too... Meet me at Peeps and Bis's place tomorrow. I need. No. Kitty needs your help building a motorcycle. I got the frame built but wiring and connections isn't my specialty d-... Pepsi.

"This moonshine is good, wish I could get drunk too. And Phoenix... Bring Bee and Caleb, you've been mad at me about them for a while now. I'm not sure I can get them fixed as you would like, but anything is better than nothing right?"

P:// Yes. 'Anything' is better than Nothing. Goodbye.

"Goodbye, and Hello. I hope you understand."

[fameadventura]

Her

She stood as a muse in the complex flurry of emotions, a beautiful, angelic masterpiece of perfection painted with the strokes of hope and the hues of imagination. A woman unattainable, existing in a place beyond the reach of actual connection. She moved through life like a melody, leaving an unforgettable impression on the corridors of the heart.

She was a puzzle, a mystery that begged to be unraveled, a collection of moments etched in time that intertwined with the fabric of fantasies. Yet, reality took over, and the weight of unrequited emotions, a burden carried on shoulders heavy with the ache of longing. The unspoken truth lay bare – she could never be genuinely possessed, for her heart danced in the arms of another.

The torment lay not in her choice but in the silent echoes of one-sided emotions rumbling within the hollow chambers of a restless soul. The pain was not hers to bear but a self-inflicted wound, a consequence of allowing the heart to wander beyond the boundaries of reason and logic.

Love, a concept as elusive as a fleeting dream, became the silent orchestrator of this internal symphony. Yet, in the contradiction of emotions, the realization dawned that perhaps love was nothing more than a creation of the mind. It is merely an illusion - a basket woven with threads of desire - that promises to provide relief in this desert called life.

The fault lay not in her magnetism but in the power of a creative mind to mold fragments of reality into a masterwork of attachment. The boundaries blurred, and lines were crossed as the imagination painted a canvas where she was more than a muse. She became the protagonist in a story of love that was distant yet fulfilling. It was everything and more—

Yet, the realization that love, for the beholder, was a construct of the mind did little to satisfy the affliction. The heart, ever rebellious, still clinging to the illusion, refusing to accept the absence of real feeling. In the realm of creativity, where the mind held the power to invoke happiness and love, it was a bitter irony that the creator found himself entrapped in the web of his own making. Why can't he be free? Is it not his creation — unthink it, and it'll all go away.

Regret, a bitter aftertaste, lingered in the air. He realized that his discipline had faltered, and he did it again — boundaries had crumbled, and the heart had taken liberties beyond its authority. The outcome was the requiem of a creator looking at the wreckage with disappointment; these are the consequences of playing with the delicate strings of love.

As everything unfolded, the woman moved gracefully through life, oblivious to the storm raging within the confines of a conflicted heart. For her, life was life, but for him, it was fantasy, a bittersweet reminder that in the quest for love, one could lose oneself in the maze of one's creation, again.

Love isn't real, but with my imagination, I can make anything real. —Lil Uzi Vert

[sciencestyled]

Hey There, Smartypants! Let's Chat About Antimatter with Dr. Faust!

Hey Tumblr fam! Buckle up, because we're about to give you the 411 on something so cool, it makes your favorite sci-fi flick look like a snoozefest. We're talking about antimatter – and no, it's not the stuff of comic books. It's real, and it's spectacular!

Picture this: a world that's like a mirror image of ours, but with everything in reverse. That's the wild world of antimatter, narrated by none other than our boy Faust. You know, the guy who's famous for making deals with the devil? Well, guess what? He's now dishing out the deets on nature's own shadowy counterpart to matter. Talk about a career change!

Let's start with the basics. Antimatter is like matter's evil twin. Imagine a particle that’s the exact opposite of everything we know. That's antimatter for you. And guess who first stumbled upon this mind-boggling concept? A modern-day wizard named Carl Anderson, who spotted the elusive positron – a particle that’s like an electron, but with a positive twist. It's like discovering a cat that barks – total madness, right?

Now, Faust gets all deep and philosophical about it, just like in his soul-searching days. He talks about how scientists are basically the new alchemists, turning their labs into mystical realms to unravel this cosmic conundrum. They're looking at every particle and its anti-buddy, locked in an eternal dance of creation and annihilation. Spoiler alert: when they meet, it's a real fireworks show!

But here's the kicker: antimatter raises more questions than it answers. Like, why is our universe mostly made of matter? What happened to all the antimatter? It's the kind of stuff that keeps scientists up at night – and probably Faust, too, considering his history with existential crises.

Diving into antimatter, according to Faust, is like peeking into the abyss. It’s a journey (whoops, can't say that word) into the unknown, poking at the very fabric of reality. And just like Faust's quest for knowledge, it's a path filled with wonder and a fair bit of danger. Because let's face it, understanding the universe is no walk in the park.

Then Faust takes us on a whirlwind tour through the history of antimatter, from its crazy discovery (positron, we're looking at you) to the mind-bending implications of Einstein's E=mc². It turns out, this stuff could revolutionize everything from medicine to space travel. But, as Faust knows all too well, great power comes with great responsibility (and sometimes, a side of existential dread).

So, there you have it, folks. A wild ride through the world of antimatter, with a legendary scholar as our guide. It's like uncovering the secrets of the universe with a side of drama and a dash of philosophical musings. And who knows? Maybe understanding antimatter is the key to unlocking some of the universe's greatest mysteries. Or maybe it'll just give us some really cool sci-fi plotlines. Either way, we're here for it!

[strawberry-cow-snuggles]

Luke's Origins

Category: Angsty Drabble

Characters: Purgatory Hall

Themes: Creation of Angels and Demons, Heaven and Hell, Divine Eternities, Hiding Information, Separation of Families, Struggling With The Truth, Debate of True Evil

Everyone goes to hell after dying; even the good people. The extraordinarily sinless are told their heavenly eternal reward is to assist in punishing the sinners they separated themselves from. This is God's Final Test. Those that accept the offer are reborn as new demons, able to torture others for eternity, but never allowed to ascend to the celestial realm. Those that refuse to cause pain to others, following a golden moral compass even after being promised an eternity free from consequence, are reincarnated as newborn angels.

Aside from the select few made by God, this is where every angel and demon comes from. They were all human too, once upon a time. There are many humans in need of torturing in the afterlife, and a sizable sum of demons to do just that. The angels number much fewer. The fact that some angels can fall from divinity makes their status as pure beings that much more precarious. Despite living a near-saintly life, too many give in to temptation at the last second and are eager to create agony without consequence.

Consequence.

That's what they believed in.

To them, there was no heaven nor hell; no divine being capable of unconditional love and boundless wisdom. The only thing they feared was retaliation for carrying out the inhumane actions they so deeply longed to inflict on others. Their faith existed not in love for those around them but in fear of what could be done to them. There's a clear distinction between valuing life and valuing your own life.

Luke sits in a small chair on the balcony extending from his bedroom. Simeon stands in the doorway behind him. He watches over the young angel. He has ever since he came into existence. He's acted as a more personable and understanding version of their father in the celestial realm. He's been there for him since Luke could remember. Every significant moment of his life, first steps, first words, first flight, Simeon was right by his side to guide him, no matter how difficult things seemed to be for him.

As far as Luke knows, every angel is created by their father, molded by his hands from the clay found in the Garden of Eden, every cell lovingly crafted by a father who loves his family above all else. He's been spoonfed to believe every demon was once an angel, and that every demon fell because they didn't have enough room in their heart to love freely and trust in God as an angel should. To Luke and every other young angel, God's Final Test doesn't exist. Why would it? Every angel and demon is the same as Simeon, Michael, Lucifer, and the others. Their father loves unconditionally and without restriction. Why would he see one sin as less sinful than another? The very existence of the test was heresy. The knowledge of its existence was blasphemous.

Simeon would have to tell him someday. That's the unfortunate thing about young angels; they're endlessly curious. They always want answers and have yet to learn that their father will reveal the truth in due time. So few angels currently are aware of where the younger generations of winged infants come from. They'll all know eventually, but few have reached that level of maturity at present. Those that know tend to distance themselves from the new babes in order to avoid spilling the secret or to avoid the wrenching of their own hearts upon seeing the next generation wander through the clouds alone.

But they aren't alone. They have the other angels with them; the ones their age and their senior. They have the seraphim to guide them. Their father is there to guide them, so why does it feel so wrong to watch the gates open as Naarai walks through with yet another straw-woven bassinet?

Simeon doesn't know how he'll do it when the time comes. He dreads the heartache it'll bring upon both of them, and the distrust of the realm it will inevitably instill within Luke's heart. Thou shalt not lie, right? How could he look this sweet young child in the eyes and tell him everything he's known regarding his birth, the birth of all angels and demons, is a lie?

Luke's drawing a picture. Simeon already knows it'll be another one for the fridge. It's a picture of him, Solomon, and Luke all enjoying a picnic with cake and apple juice. He really is still a child after all. Could he bear to tell Luke about his life before he was an angel? About his existence prior to his assignment to Simeon? Could Simeon look him in the eye and tell him of his father and mother, his siblings, his cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, everyone that he's ever known; could he tell him where they are right now?

How does a child respond to being told everyone they've ever loved has been tortured perpetually for the last millennia while they've been able to frolic and eat sweets and make new, better, friends, and enjoy every morning as the sunbeams pour in through their stained glass windows? Could a child stand to hold the weight of a past life, and all the mental and emotional implications that come with it?

Solomon knocks on the door to make himself known. It's open, but startling angels is a terribly unkind thing to do, and he has no intention of being mischievous tonight.

"Ah. So this is where everyone's disappeared to?"

"It seems so. He's off in his own little world over there. It'll be nice to hang another picture on the fridge."

"He does always get a certain special glow whenever we honor his work with those puppy magnets Barbatos happened to find."

"He does. It's my turn to cook dinner tonight. I'll be down in a few to get started. I just have to tell Luke something first. You go ahead and relax before dinner. I'll let you know when it's ready."

"I'll see you at the table then." Solomon makes his exit. Simeon takes a few steps toward the gentle child.

"Luke? There's something I need to tell you. I'm not really supposed to yet, but it's important and I think you have a right to know."

"Hm? What is it, Simeon? Did Barbatos tell you what kind of sweets we were going to bake together tomorrow? He won't tell me because he says it's a surprise, but how can I be prepared to bake when I don't even know what it is I'm supposed to be making?"

"Hehe... No, it's nothing like that. It's..." Simeon hesitates. "It's about dinner tomorrow. Tomorrow's Solomon's night to cook, so make sure you ask Barbatos and Diavolo if you can stay for dinner."

"I will! Thanks, Simeon! I think even Barbatos and Diavolo are afraid of Solomon's cooking!"

"I bet they are. Run along and wash up for dinner now. I'm cooking tonight." Simeon sends the young angel off towards the bathroom to get the marker off his hands. He watches with a bittersweet recognition that these days, the days where Luke is bouncy and full of smiles, will not last forever.

The celestial war and other divine conflicts pit the two races as natural enemies for all eternity. Though, looking at things this way, perhaps demons and angels aren't so different after all. One lives a set of sweet, saccharine lies. The other is branded as evil.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.7 Epilogue: Quest's End

Summary: Start New Game?

----------------------------

Adrien's head thumped onto the desk stacked high with files, forms and other official documents from the Office of Celestial Sorting. "I can't believe they made us fill out our own paperwork," he groaned without looking up.

"What did ya think was gonna happen, god?" Nino dropped another stack of forms next to the ones already present. "Alya thinks one of the council members is hoping you'll incarnate out of sheer boredom. That way you'll be out of her hair for a century or something.

"Coward."

Kagami sat at a desk next to Adrien. She stamped the paper in front of her, signed it and traced her name in magic before setting it on the completed pile -which was much higher than Adrien's- before starting on the next one.

"If she wanted us out of the way she should have petitioned for us to descend as immortals instead of settling for a single mortal lifespan."

"I wouldn't mind incarnating again," Adrien mumbled thoughtfully without lifting his head.

Nino snorted as he took Kagami's finished pile. "Better hurry up, god. Or Kagami will leave you all on your lonesome."

Adrien suddenly sat upright. "A God of Destruction shouldn't be resigned to filing paperwork! It's unnatural!"

Laughing as he made his way to one of the exits, Nino almost stumbled into the bookshelves full of scrolls and tablets.

Pouting, Adrien slumped back in his seat. "Well it is!"

A smile tugged at Kagami's lips and she let it. "We know. That's why it's so funny."

"I could hear Nino's laugh all the way into the outer court," Marinette said by way of announcing herself. "What're you up to?"

"Marinette!" Adrien opened his eyes wide and innocent. "Nino and Kagami are bullying me!"

"Well, you're the one who agreed to bond with her," Marinette pointed out. "It's not like you didn't know what you were getting into."

"Rude," Adrien and Kagami replied in unison.

Marinette merely grinned smugly.

"If you're not going to assist then away with you," Kagami dismissed only half seriously. "You're distracting Adrien."

Adrien coughed, shifting his eyes out of their cat-like state and looking away from Marinette. Pretending he didn't just try to use her weakness to cute things against her.

A knowing look came into Marinette's eyes. "And here I was, coming to tell you about a certain island to the east." She fanned herself with official-looking paperwork.

Adrien's eyes followed the scroll like a cat staring at his prey.

"The mortals there could really use some help." She glanced at the scroll in her hand as though just noticing it. "Oh! And I just so happen to have signed permission by the council to send a Destroyer and a Storm God! What a coincidence!"

Kagami glanced at Adrien who was practically vibrating with excitement.

"But!" Marinette slowly made to put the divine document away. "I can tell when I'm not wanted. Guess I'll have to find some other deities for the-"

In a blur of shadow the scroll was out of Marinette's hand and in Adrien's. Kagami held her paperwork in place with her arms so it wouldn't blow away in the wind of his movement. Even so, scrolls scattered everywhere.

"Thank you so much Marinette we won't forget this see you soon bye now. Mwuah!" Kissing her forehead Adrien rushed out of the Office of Celestial Sorting. Nearly trampling Nino on his way back.

Marinette blinked at his retreating form. "Well... okay?"

Kagami sighed fondly as she stood. "Always jumping first." She gave a bow of her head to Marinette. "We appreciate your consideration." And then hurried to catch up to Adrien. Dragon tail almost knocking over a bookcase as she shifted at the threshold.

"... No, gods. That's okay. I already got someone to do your paperwork. Yes, I know I'm the best."

"They ran off as soon as you gave them the scroll didn't they, goddess?" Nino picked up some of the scattered papers and set them on the desks.

"Ha! Adrien didn't wait for that!" Marinette turned on her heel, away from the door. "Snatched it right outa my hands like... like..."

"A cat?" Nino suggested with a wry grin.

"Exactly!" Marinette snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Nino couldn't help but laugh at her annoyance. "At least you got my god out before he tore the place down... again."

Marinette gave a long-suffering sigh as she plopped dramatically onto a nearby chair. "Oh, what am I to do with such unruly deities?"

"Send them to deal with natural disasters, apparently," Nino deadpanned, eyeing her suspiciously. "I thought Gods of Destruction were supposed to cause disasters?"

"Details!" Marinette waved this away as she attempted to hide her smirk with a fan she just materialized. "Besides, Adrien will figure it out." He always does.

-------------------

It wasn't long before Kagami caught up with Adrien at the celestial bridge. Despite his eagerness to leave the heavenly realm the bridge kept to its own time. "Jumping at the chance for another quest? You never change, Adrien."

Adrien's feline features weren't good at expressing emotion but she saw his amusement nonetheless. "I don't see you slowing down," he replied, barely slowing down.

"Ha! You didn't even let Marinette finish before dashing off!" Kagami accused in fond exasperation, a growl unintentionally coloring her words.

Ears pulling back, Adrien pouted. His kitty-cat eyes far more effective as an actual cat.

"What are you looking at me for? Marinette's the one who's going to give you an earful!" Kagami teased.

"If I do well she won't have anything to complain about," he said, not quite convincingly.

"Do you even know what the intervention is supposed to be?"

Halting suddenly, Adrien shifted out of his animal form. Kagami jerking to a stop as she passed him.

Nose wrinkling in distaste, Adrien unfurled the scroll. "Something about an island? I'm sure..." He blinked at the paper in surprise.

Shifting, Kagami raised an eyebrow as Adrien trailed off. She leaned over his shoulder to see what had him so out of sorts. "...A volcano?"

Adrien jumped at her voice, startled back into action. "No," he scolded the scroll. "No no no." Adrien glanced from the document to Kagami's face and back again. "I don't stop volcanoes from erupting! That is the opposite of what I do!"

"Heh," Kagami chuckled as laughter built in her chest. Growing rapidly, leaking out as small snickers until it escaped in one loud, drawn out laugh. Hand covering her mouth in a vain attempt at stifling it.

Adrien narrowed his eyes at Kagami as she caught her breath. "You think this is funny?"

"Look at it this way," Kagami stared shamelessly into his eyes, lips pulling into a smirk. "You can hardly make things worse."

"Ha-ha," Adrien replied sarcastically.

"It's not so bad," Kagami placed a hand on his chest as she looked up at him, "It is a tropical island, after all."

Cheeks reddening, Adrien bit his lip to keep from smiling. "I'm sure it'll be lovely buried in lava."

Kagami sighed, pulling away and turning from him. "You are lucky Mother approves of you-"

Adrien's arms wrapped around her from behind. "Luck has nothing to do with it," he murmured into her hair.

Leaning into his embrace ever so slightly, Kagami allowed herself a small smile. "Oh?" she asked innocently.

"She knows I'm a great catch for a dragon as impressive as her daughter."

"Interesting," Kagami pondered noncommittally, taking a step forward. Instead of keeping her still Adrien stepped with her. Not removing his arms. "And why is that?"

Squeezing her lightly Adrien listed some of the reasons he thought Tomoe had accepted their bond so easily. "Amazing sword skills, strong ties to the Gods of Creation, highest efficiency record among Gods of Destruction-"

"Exactly!" Kagami turned so she could look him in the eye. "A little volcano is nothing we can't handle!"

"...Heh." Adrien leaned down to place a kiss on Kagami's lips. "Always know what to say," he teased.

Hardly. "Of course!" Kagami looped her arm with Adrien's and pulled him into a stroll. "Don't I always?"

A spark of mischief came into Adrien's eye. "Mm, yes. I especially like your draconian determination."

Kagami shoved him. "Draconian?"

Adrien laughed as he corrected his stumble and began running. Heartbeat accelerating as Kagami gave chase.

"Draconian!?" Kagami demanded, a predatory grin spreading across her face.

Shifting, Adrien leapt out of the way as Kagami's scarlet scales coiled around the space he just vacated. She growled in annoyance and lunged for him again.

Evading her, Adrien's joy filled the sky surrounding the celestial bridge. Kagami thrilled at the chase and in his laughter. She felt like a child, barely a century old. Such was Adrien's presence in her life. And Kagami was determined not to let go.

Their game continued even as they passed into the lower world. Speeding toward a new adventure and all that lay beyond.

[kruel-kreator]

Jesse's expression looks slightly guilty and heavy with the whole consequence talk. Consequences, he is the consequences to his own actions, hurting his realm hurts himself, yet its that pain that makes him feel alive, it's been too long for things such as kindness to help him feel alive, it is why the Inanis Realm is ruled by shadow, it is nothing by being everything, it is void.

"I wouldn't quite say you're lower than me, the simple fact that you can see me before you and I can see you before me is what aids me in knowing you are just as I. The only ones i'd dare look down upon are those creations of mine that disgust even me. I see many of my makings as equals, yet those special ones, Cyberus, Anarchy, even this special form of myself, those are the ones that reflect directly into me. They share my madness and laugh with me, they are the only ones that would even be slightly lower despite overpowering me in anything else"

His voice is gentler as he reaches out to one of the little shadows, "Even they are my equals." And can't help the smile when the little witch puts her hand to his finger. "Do you see the actors in a TV show as lower than you? The characters in a book as lesser than you? I could say I even admire a few of the ones i've seen interact with my realm and some inside my realm even." It's true, to him it's simply like watching a show, a movie, yet it feels so much closer considering he can go into these worlds.

"You can't pour it on yourself it'll hurt you, trust me i've seen others try. This little thing is a mix of blood of mine and pure void which yeah, don't question it there's this open wound on the side of my body directly into my heart and at one point it just became normal to me" He sounds completely normal now as well, returning to the same mannerisms he had when he arrived.

"As long as the object is within the same realm as the minis, they can respawn, but I'm pretty sure you end up in many places too which is also why its not reccomended for you to pour it on yourself or something you wear very often." He says as he sits down on the floor, he got tired

"Which is also why the minis should not try to leave this realm either, plus also its generally not safe for them anywhere hah." He chuckles, one of the minis from earlier reappears, in the form of the one with the sheep horns "When they, well i guess you could say they die but not really, disappear? Yeah that works, with a source, they can remember, however it's not like they can feel anything so they dont care, maybe they get slightly annoyed. I once saw one of these get eaten and be fine upon respawn. They dissolve with water due to being shadow"

( @kruel-kreator - Continued from here!)

“It seems there is quite a dimension to your dimension, Jesse,” Thursday acknowledges as she watches and listens, still with her hands out for the little minis to perch on. “It’s funny you say that, being lucky and unlucky, because I feel that’s sort of my lot in all this.” She doesn’t bother to explain further than that, though. Quid pro quo. If Jesse wants to be vague with his answers, then she can also be vague with hers.

“You don’t really have anything to answer for, though. None of us do. We can all do what we want, right? Isn’t that what the power of choice is all about?” she moves on to ask. “All of us make our choices, and so we must all live with the consequences of those actions - both positive and negative. Tell me, Jesse - have you answered to the consequences of your actions, yet? Or rather - will you? Because I answer to mine all the time. But I suppose you see yourself as above me - and Cyrus. As someone to look down on. That’s why you watch us with such amusement. You like setting your little creations upon us and watching while we scramble around trying to make sense of it all, hoping we’ll fight back.”

Cyrus is quiet while he listens. And then Thursday looks back down at the little shadow figures in her hands. “I could crush them. I could do it very easily, as you have indicated. You put so much power into my hands and yet you show no remorse for it, or so it seems. You know what I choose to do with that power?”

She simply stands there, not moving, not doing anything other than smiling. “Nothing. I choose to do nothing, other than be kind. Kindness costs nothing, and yet it is worth so much, wouldn’t you agree? That’s what I choose to do, and that’s what I’ll always choose to do, no matter what you throw at us.”

“So! Tell me one more thing, Jesse,” she says, sounding perfectly happy and without a care in the world. She ushers both of the minis into one hand while she takes the vial with the other. “Can this be poured on myself? Can I be the respawn point? Will that bring any ill effects to them? Do we always have to be within a certain proximity to one another for it to work?”