#its the strange eons one

[the-mike-est-of-michaels]

watching a video about tumblr do’s and dont’s because I’m bored, “DON’T USE YOUR ACTUAL NAME IN YOUR URL!” .....yeah that’d be so cringe right

[gazelessmenagerie]

Bro. Stop making Broly cute!

My heart can't take it with him and Mai! STaaap! XD

It's too cute! I've never seen a Broly melt like that before!

( never. )

( listen.. LISTEN....................... when he falls......... he falls hard bc he's a Beast type and Beauty is his natural weakness alfjldksjlknlgj )

[bloodywankers]

tw. yandere, forced pregnancy, mentions of nudity, toxic relationships, implied murder, not proofread (pls tell me if you see any typos), 1.4k words

You knew your husband wasn’t normal. You weren’t a fool, the avoiding gazes of people around you, the nervous stutter of every waiter and service person that approached you, the hesitance of new aquintaces when they had to shake hands with you, all of it under his watchful gaze. It was hard to ignore.

If you had to put a finger on when it started, you’d blame that one time years ago, when you were both still young, much younger than you are now at least. When you complained about that one classmate that always got too handsy, about his annoying jokes and obnoxious personality, all under the guise of “a joke” as tasteless as it might have been. You knew he wasn’t fully okay in the head, even back then. It was by no mistake that you found yourself complaining to him of all people, sure he was a bit more reserved than now, a bit more hesitant at the thought of potentially committing a crime but all it took was a fluttering your eyes at him a few times and he offered himself up for you, he had never been the smartest of the buch after all.

When you heard news that the classmate had apparently dropped out and been seen with injuries beyond what any sane person would inflict, you knew who to blame. But you wouldn’t, maybe your underdeveloped prefrontal lobe couldn’t grasp the concept morality back then. But a guard dog that shows such loyalty couldn’t possibly deserve punishment. It was then when you cemented future by his side. He wasn’t all too bad, you thought, if you could avoid any and all contact with the opposite gender, even with women you could never make him feel unwanted. He was needy and big and scary but extremely gullible, at least when it came to you– as long as nothing sparked his jealousy, he was beyond reasoning if that were to happen.

There were times where you cursed at yourself for your past decisions, namely when you found small splatters of blood on his clothes that you assume were too small for him to notice, or when another person you had been unhappy with (but never voiced this in front of your husband) disappeared entiorely from your life. A dog that goes and bites all those that approach its master is no good at all.

Selfish and evil as you may have been, you were still human and the thought that your mere presence could ruin someones life took a toll on you so you started to retreat into your shell, to avoid going out as much as possible, much to your husbands pleasure who started coming home on time and didn’t drift off somewhere in the middle of the might anymore. Your relationship almost started showing a semblance of normalcy.

You had started feeling exhausted as of late, too tired despite your schedule full of nothing. It was strange, you started losing appetite and under a constant spell of lethargy, too tired to do anything beyond maybe brave the journey to the bathroom when necessary or to the kitchen if your husband wasn’t home to do it for you. Then started the cravings, so strange that you doubted even a pregnant woman would have them.

That’s what you thought, until night you managed to wake up just in time to see your husband rummahging through your drawer, the small sheet of what you could only make out to be your contraceptive pills in you hand and another one that looked eerily similar (that one wasn’t yours, you were sure of this since you were down to your last sheet).

You instinctively closed your eyes again before he could turn to you, waiting until morning when he was gone to work to check your drawing, only to find one sheet. It was then when things started to click, your period had been a few weeks late, you hadn’t been particularly alarmed since it happened sometimes but now you felt fear sink in as you rushed out in your car to the nearest pharmacy. The drive felt eons long when combined with the ever increasing feelings of dread that you were experiencing but you almost wished you could go back to that time as your clothes were tossed to one side and the bathroom door left slightly ajar, you were too rushed to have cared about those details as you stared at the two lines on the test.

‘No no no no no no no no no.’ You couldn’t think clear, you werent ready to be a mother, you didnt want children, there wasn’t a single motherly bone in your body.

You took back what you had said earlier, you were most definitely a fool. Why did you think he’d never do something like this when hes probably already done enough to secure his place in the 8th circle of hell just for you.

“Darling, I was looking for you-” Your husband said gleefully, pausing as he fully opened the bathroom door, finding you sat with a pregnancy test in hand, a few other ones already tossed around you, the unmistakeable positive already visible on them. And yet, as if he had no hand in this, he feiged ignorance, acted worried as he approached you.

“What’s happened here, what’re you doing, dear? Are you alright?” He kept asking these questions as he slowly neared you.

“Get away from me, don’t touch me!” You screamed, you were crying at this point and he was left at an arms length. That was when his entire demeanor changed, the almost idiotic smile of his nowhere to be seen as he let out a frustrated sigh.

“I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. If anything I’m surprised it took you this long, you’re quite the slow one aren’t you, love?” You probably would’ve launched the nearest object his way in any other situation but you couldn’t tell heads from tails in your current predicament.

“Why would you do this? Was what we had not enough for you?” You couldn’t help but ask in a moment of clarity.

“How coy, I wonder where this side of you was when you asked me to do all those terrible, terrible things.” His smile felt cruel, especially so when you realised that you were the dog if anything, he had always been the one to hold your leash, not the other way around.

“You dug your own grave, we couldn’ve had what most normal people have but you chose not to, you used me until your heart was fulfilled and in the process, you dug yourself deeper and deeper. The fact that you didn’t realise any sooner says more about you than me.” He finished, before hoisting you up, ignoring your cries as he removed what little you had on and placed you inside the bath. It had become a routine ever since you started feeling sick but today you couldn’t help but feel disgusted by his touch, alternating between sobs and protests as he cleaned, his grasp much harsher than usual, you weren’t sure if it was because he no longer had to uphold the persona he had you believing in up until today or because of your protests.

“Aren’t you curious, what you’ve been eating in place of your birth control lately?” He asked in the midst of washing your hair, the glint of excitement in his eyes only adding to the psychotic expression of his.

You couldn’t bear to ask, looking away in hoped that he would at least grant you this much. “Aww, I was hoping you’d want to, I’ll tell you ayway. It’s a sedative of sorts, I started with low dosages so you wouldn’t get alarmed. Don’t worry, it’s nothing strong enough to harm the baby.” The mention of the baby had your stomach twisting again. You felt exhausted from crying, letting him dress you, moving you around almost like a ragdoll until he plopped you on the bed, joining you soon after he showered and changed himself. Engulfing your smaller figure into a hug as he went on and on about the baby.

“I’ll get some books on parenting for you, we need to make sure our baby doesn’t turn out twisted and skewed like their mommy. Don’t you agree?”

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader

content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff, scaramouche is referred to as kunikuzushi, established relationship, makeup

summary: after noticing that your boyfriend’s eye makeup is more or less flawless, you ask him to test his skills on you.

a/n: this is what happens when you let me brainrot with @ilyuu for too long hehe... the scara brainworm has worked its way into my head. this is a cry for help.

“Hold still,” Kunikuzushi mumbles under his breath as he leans in towards you. With steady hands, he brings an eyeshadow brush up to your face, carefully placing the end of it against one of your eyelids. You have to stop yourself from flinching as the sensation of the bristles touching your face sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re moving an awful lot,” he reprimands you. A frown spreads across your boyfriend’s features. “Don’t blame me if you end up looking like an absolute idiot.”

Upon hearing his words, you have to force yourself to stifle a giggle. Kunikuzushi has a rather sharp tongue, but at times, even his irritated guise isn’t enough to conceal his love for you. Every single one of his emotions is displayed on his face for you to see, appearing as clear as a cerulean sky on sunny summer days. An entire rainbow array of sentiments is painted across his features.

Your proximity to him makes it easy for you to discern each feeling — after all, you’re so close to him that you can practically count all his eyelashes — so instead of focusing on the feeling of Kuni doing your makeup, you try to focus on him.

Porcelain skin tinted a very subtle shade of bubblegum pink at his cheeks; eyes that are filled with oceans of allure, adoration, and enchantment, containing a glint that speaks of the most mystifying secrets of the universe; and messy strands of hair reminiscent of the night sky framing his face make your pulse race erratically. The feeling of his breath tickling your skin only adds to the elation that threatens to make your heart burst.

It’s undeniable that Kunikuzushi is pretty — no, absolutely breathtaking — from any distance. After all, you had spent what felt like eons admiring him from afar before you could muster the courage to talk to him. However, up close, he is ethereal. Every single one of his features entices you, causing an entire sea of affections to flood your heart, overrunning it with feelings of unadulterated bliss.

As you stare at him in a daze, your gaze gravitates towards his lips. Although it’s difficult for you to look down due to the eyeliner pencil he just picked up tickling the edges of your eyes, you still manage to see them in the margins of your vision. His lips look so soft and plush, coloured a coral hue in stark contrast to his snowy complexion. They look so tempting. You feel a strong urge to kiss them — an urge that only intensifies as he subconsciously chews on his bottom lip as he concentrates hard on perfecting your makeup.

Your actions go entirely unnoticed by your boyfriend, or at least, you think they go unnoticed. He’s too focused on doing your eyeliner, quietly muttering a string of swears under his breath as his hand shakes. It seems like he’s nervous for once. You assume it’s because this is probably the first time he’s doing makeup for someone other than himself.

No matter how indifferent he acts on the outside, Kunikuzushi cares about you enough to become a mess on the inside when he’s doing something for you. It’s endearing in a strange sense.

With one final stroke, Kuni pulls back in order to admire his work. A small smirk adorns his features as he fixes his gaze upon you. Even though your boyfriend has moved, your eyes are still glued to his lips.

“Not bad,” he says. The galaxies of indigo swirling within his irises seem to glow brighter the longer he stares at you. It’s obvious he’s undeniably enamoured. He adores every aspect of your being. Kunikuzushi loves you down to every last detail, and right now, he’s especially enchanted by your eyes.

Slowly, Kuni’s face inches toward your own. His stare remains fixated on the corners of your eyes, which are tinted with dusk red eyeshadow reminiscent of his own makeup.

Before you know it, his lips softly press against your face, just barely grazing one of the areas he had just finished applying makeup to. Although no words are exchanged, you know what he’s trying to say.

You look absolutely divine.

When he finishes, he moves in once again. However, this time, he goes for your lips. Kuni slowly closes the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap that separates you from him until you can feel his warm breath fanning your skin. He stops right before you kiss to gently caresses your cheek.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Kuni whispers slightly breathlessly, although in the moment, that phrase sounds slightly hypocritical. His gaze is locked on your lips, almost as if he doesn’t dare to look away.

Little by little, the final inch of space between you diminishes, and you are met with the sensation of a pair of warm lips against your own.

The kiss is magical. It feels like something out of a fairytale. Butterflies run rampant in the pit of your stomach as you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, and for a second, you picture yourself in a dream. A dream where the rest of the world is forgotten, and all that exists is you and your lover.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging/commenting if you enjoyed this!

[master-of-47-dudes]

Oh! For those of you who like Lancer, I've made major progress in the campaign I'm writing: Kindness of strangers!

LRBT-III, otherwise known as Blanche to the locals. This sun-baked dustbowl of a planet has the high honor of being one of the few habitable terrestrial bodies that anyone has discovered in the Long Rim, and probably the only one that's actually any use to anyone. Luckily- or not so luckily, if you ask some people- it was Union that found it first. Well, about 70 years ago when they stumbled across this star system they got it in their heads that the Long Rim's days were numbered. There’s untold millions living out there scattered along the emptiest shipping lane in the known galaxy who'd need a way out once no one needed to pass them by, and by Christ the Buddha Union was gonna be there for them waiting with open arms.

All of that is background, though. You? You’re a bunch of mercenaries who got their hands on a couple of GMSes, decided to make your manna selling violence for pay. Worlds like Blanche don't take to colonies very well, so even two generations in there's still plenty of frontier out there being settled and railroad tracks being laid. The people out there struggle day by day to survive, and people like you are there to protect them from those who got sick of the hard life. Not everyone out there has the guts to stand up for the little guy- that's why you're called Lancers.

A setting and a campaign all in one, Kindness Of Strangers and its (eventual) follow-up Dancing With the Devil are a series of Wild West-themed 2-mission adventures intended to take players from 0-12 as they find themselves embroiled in the midst of a corporate conspiracy to overthrow the Union-backed government of the isolated colony of Blanche and a ploy to seize control over a nearly completed Blinkstation. All the while, a strange religious movement worshipping an eons-dead alien civilization grows ever more influential in the background...

This campaign tackles themes of colonialism, nationalism, corruption, and conflict between indigenous peoples, settlers, and immigrants, all in a world where well-meaning intentions have gone sour and the ghosts of the past have come back to haunt it.

Kindness of Strangers, Missions 1-3

Field Guide to LRBT-PN

Exotic Gear Documentation

Variant Frame Documentation

Kindness of Strangers Worldbuilding Short Stories

Kindness of Strangers LCP, Maps, and Assets

This latest update includes the first(ish) draft of Mission 3: The Field of Blue Children, allowing play of the first half of Act 2 and extending the LL range from 0-3. Mission 3 is heavily intrigue and RP focused, featuring a wide suite of characters, relationships, and locations in the Tourist town of Baugh- a thriving immigrant community situated on a soda lake.

The PCs have been hired to investigate a bomb threat at the newly completed Baugh Pumpworks, and water filtration and chemical processing facility that stands to end the water shortage and threatens corporate control over the colony's water supply- but is everything really as it seems? In the process, the PCs will go toe to toe with teenage gearheads, Pinkerton-expies, and a group of Sparri Espadas who got roped into this whole mess, and uncover the mystery behind the threat!

Also, there's a subaltern that talks like a pirate and catholicism.

Anyway this mission also includes a custom NPC Template (kind of, I don't know how to design the LCP for that but i did include instructions on how it works), several new reserves, and several custom sitreps!

So, check it out- I'm always looking for feedback.

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : I]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: you have always denied your own power. But fate has its own path. Sometimes it can be changed, but often it cannot be avoided. You realized this truth when you met him for the first time, as you stepped into your seventeenth year.

Status: work in progress (This is a long fanfic that will be about 10+ chapters.)

➡  Intro // EP : II // EP : III // EP : IV // EP : V // EP : VI // EP : VII

[Episodes 1] There is no escape—we pay for the violence of our ancestors

"We were once far greater than this," That's what your mother often told you many times when you were much younger.

For the most part, the tales from your mother's lips were no different from myths. The details were ancient and blurred by time, seeming more like delusions than truths. People never believed anything she said, dismissing her as just another mad woman with an unsound mind.

You were the only one who fully believed your mother, not just because she was your mother.

But because you saw it, just as your mother had seen, and just as all your ancestors before them had seen.

The Awakening —that's what your mother called it. It was said that one of your distant ancestors could look back into the past and see thousands of years into the future.

Mother believed this was a gift, a great inherited legacy passed down through blood, bone, and spirit, strung together for countless eons.

You thought the opposite. You saw it more as a curse.

Since the collapse in the past, your lineage has greatly weakened, and not everyone could bear the Awakening like your great ancestors. Knowing too much, even knowing what shouldn't be known, was an unnatural mechanism that directly affected both body and mind. The more one saw, the more twisted and destroyed they became.

Thus, everyone's fate was not much different. Most ended up committing suicide or being killed. A few went mad, and even fewer were scorned and despised by others as being crazy.

Fortunately, your mother was the latter.

You firmly believed this, until your mother intentionally gave you poison to drink when you were fifteen.

"Drink it," Your mother voice was harsh as she placed the glass on the wooden table in front of you. Inside was a pungent blue liquid that smelled like cinnamon mixed with some kind of medicine. She had a glass in her own hand as well, gripping it tightly as if it were precious. Her blue eyes, once as dark as ink, were now pale and vacant, not even bothering to look at you.

For a moment, just a few seconds but feeling like an eternity, as the strange smell wafted into your nose, the awakening enveloped your senses. You looked up into your mother's eyes, acutely aware of what she was about to do.

"Ten percent, Hara," your mother told you, her voice flat and emotionless. "Worth the risk."

That was the last sentence before she drank the poisoned glass in one gulp. Your mother's entire body collapsed in front of you, and never woke up again.

Outsiders judged on their own that your mother was insane, deranged to the point of trying to commit suicide along with her own daughter using some strange, untraceable poison.

And since then, you have always denied your own power.

You didn't want to be like your mother, and you didn't want to end up like others in the past.

But fate has its own path. Sometimes it can be changed, but often it cannot be avoided.

You realized this truth when you met him for the first time, as you stepped into your seventeenth year.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, filled with panic. Your entire body hangs suspended in mid-air, swaying back and forth as you struggle to find a way to escape. But no matter how hard you try, it is useless. The straw rope from the trap binding your ankles is too tight, and the branch of the large tree to which the rope is attached is too strong. You know well that you have no way of getting out of here unless someone comes to help.

"Say ‘please’."

You look towards the voice, seeing an upside-down image of a man leaning against that tree. He wears an old black cloak with patches of mending here and there. One hand casually twirls a short knife, its sharp tip gleaming in flashes of sunlight.

You respond by spitting at him.

Of course, your saliva doesn't reach his face, barely making it to his feet. It becomes yet another futile attempt on your part. He laughs at you mockingly, and that laughter irritates you even more. You struggle harder until you can feel the straw rope fibers cutting into the flesh of your ankles. Blood begins to trickle out bit by bit.

"You're about to cut off your own legs, you know that?"

You stop your actions when he approaches. Those black eyes still gleam with amusement as he stands watching your pitiful state for a moment, deliberately torturing you a little for your defiance, before finally deciding to help.

One of his hands swiftly cuts the rope, while his other arm wraps around your waist to prevent you from headbutting the ground. You had never known his strength until today, discovering that he could carry your body and flip you back to standing on the ground with just one arm, without his expression changing one bit. As if you were just a plank of wood, not a full-grown human.

"You shouldn't run away like this," he says, gesturing around the dense forest. Wherever one looks, there is nothing but trees and grass packed tightly everywhere. "The planet Khofar is full of dangers. Even most bounty hunters don't like coming here much."

You already knew that, and it was the main reason why you chose to hide on this wild, forested planet for the past two years.

Who would have thought you'd meet someone else crazy and brave enough to come here too?

"What's here that's more dangerous than you?" You retort without hesitation.

You have never trusted this strange man, and this isn't the first time you have tried to escape from him. But whenever you manage to find a way to run, he always tracks you down, like a game of cat and mouse.

And you are quite sure that he enjoys hunting you. The gleam in his eyes reveals as much, clear, and undisguised.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The man smiles mischievously without flinching. His hand grips your upper arm, refusing to let go. You feel yourself shrink when standing close to him. He is as tall and large as a stone pillar, his sharp features with a slight beard giving off an atmosphere of stern seriousness. Even though there is a playful smile on his face, it does nothing to diminish his intimidating presence.

"Alright, little girl. Instead of just running away like this, don't you think it's time we sit down and have a real talk?"

He bends down, bringing his eyes level with yours. You see the scrutinizing, fault-finding look in his eyes as they survey every feature of your face, stripping you bare with his piercing gaze, trying to find the slightest sign of anything you might be hiding.

"Tell me, how does a small woman like you, who has nothing, end up becoming a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head?"

Wanted Criminal—that's what Qimir has called you since your first encounter, and it is the same reason you have been stuck with him for so long.

Someone, or perhaps many people, have decided to label you a criminal, putting a price on your head as if you were dangerous, even though you haven't done anything terrible at all.

Your only crime was being born into this lineage. That alone is enough to be branded as a danger, unworthy of living in any galaxy.

True, those events have long passed, so much so that most people have forgotten that your ancestry once existed in this universe. But there are still some groups who remember well. These are people who fear history will repeat itself, wanting to permanently erase the cursed bloodline, and those who desire to exploit the hidden power that exists only in your family line.

And when your mother chose to die early, there was no one left but you—the only bloodline of past greatness still breathing and sane. Now you are the final target being hunted relentlessly by those people.

You don't have many choices. The only way to survive safely is to keep running aimlessly, like a legless bird that never stops flying until death, trying to hide as discreetly as possible.

You have lived like this all along, never being caught once, and never revealing yourself to anyone. But even Homer sometimes nods. Eventually, failure creeps up on you unexpectedly when this strange, peculiar man appears.

Qimir is a smuggler and mercenary who takes on any job that pays well, legal or illegal. Like other bounty hunters, he seeks fortune by hunting you, but he managed to do what many others couldn't—he was the first to find you and capture you without getting his throat slit first.

You are puzzled by this man. It is strange that he doesn't just kill you but instead keeps you like a stray animal he has taken in. He doesn't imprison you but won't let you leave either. His mind is full of endless curiosity, questioning everything about you. He keeps asking you repeatedly why an ordinary girl like you has such a high bounty on your head.

Of course, you have no intention of answering him, no matter how much he persists.

"It seems everyone wants to get their hands on you. Did you know even the Jedi are looking for you?" Qimir had told you, his tone a mix of warning and intimidation. "You're not secretly some kind of Sith or something, are you?"

'Sith' is a forbidden word throughout the Empire. The name of an evil, ruthless sect that believes in absolute power and tyranny. They are the complete opposite of the Jedi, known as the guardians of virtue and keepers of peace in the universe.

Hearing this, you can't help but laugh derisively. To you, both Jedi and Sith are bizarre, extreme factions locked in an endless struggle, as if the entire universe were just black and white.

"I don't have the Force, so I can't be a Sith. And I can't be a Jedi either," you reveal, cautiously avoiding saying more than necessary. "I'm just me, nothing more."

Qimir stares at you intently, his eyes narrowing slightly and thick eyebrows furrowed. It is clear he doesn't believe what you say. If he had the Force, you think he must be trying to read your mind right now.

But even a Jedi couldn't do anything. You have learned many things from your mother's teachings, one of which is how to shield your mind. Without your permission, no one can invade your thoughts.

Qimir sighs and shakes his head slowly, eventually giving up his attempt to catch you lying. "Then you're useless," he says, and you see this as a great opportunity.

"Exactly. My mother used to say keeping a Tooka was more useful than keeping me," you say, biting your lip as your left leg throbs with pain from a deep wound. You are too tired to fight him and can't even walk properly, which only makes your words seem more plausible. "And now, with my injured leg, I'll just be a burden to you..."

Qimir glances at you again, considering the serious, solemn expression you are feigning. A slight smile tugs at his lips, nearly breaking into a laugh. He isn't fooled by your act.

"For a burden worth Nova Crystals, I'm willing to carry it," he says.

He doesn't just speak—in the blink of an eye, he wraps an arm around your waist and easily lifts your body over his shoulder, causing you to scream in surprise. Hearing the satisfied laughter from him only makes you more furious and resentful towards this man.

I must kill him and escape your resolve is firm, even though you know it won't be easy.

[carionto]

Not "Party Hard" Enough...

As the Galactic cruise ship "Vinogradova" exits hyper space, the wealthy guests congregate at their viewing stations for the scheduled milling about in fancy dress and secretly getting wasted while some tour guide recites Galactipedia about whatever planet they're orbiting now.

"Here we have the illustrious Nestrall'anwa II, a most unique ocean world due to it's near perfect stillness. Eons ago a cataclysmic event destroyed it's only moon, creating a temporary ring around the planet, which we can see in this holographic recreation."

A massive array of projectors from the cruise ship emanate around the planet itself, creating a literal holographic debris ring. A most spectacular sight indeed.

"The tectonic activity is unusual as well, the plates are all moving in roughly the same directions, a sort of secondary spin cycle if you think about it. The planet spins around its axis, and the crust rotates around the mantle. Though this will become more chaotic in about six million years when one of the smaller plates will catch up and start creating underwater mountains. It is estimated that one day this planet will be incredibly mountainous and likely be able to support life."

Suddenly, the ship was being hailed by a signal coming from the water planet. After the automated system verified it is a valid source, Human no less, they opened the channel. Instantly, they were greeting by loud and obnoxious Human music, Rock'n'Roll it is called.

"Sup dudes! We saw that light show you guys put up earlier, could you do it again? That shit was sweeeeeet! Surf up!" The audio message was followed by a strange single hand gesture emoticon with the first, second and fifth appendages extended, and the third and fourth bent inwards.

Upon complying with the Human's request, the crew decided to go into manual mode and check what the fuck was going on here.

Apparently, the Humans had set up a series of floating platforms on the planet, using typical resort and amusement design patters. The Humans were mostly engaged with consuming various colorful liquids, undulating in strange patterns on a colorful floor with a mirror ball drone floating overhead, and many more were on colorful boards of some kind. Standing upright and trying to keep balance. On waves.

Wait.

Uhh...

There's three moons now.

Um, Humans?

"Sup brah! Yeah we brought the moons over. This place looked dope, we were hoping for the perfect surf world, but it was so boring when we got here a few months back. But then my bro remembered he worked on one of those space experimental projects or whatever, but after running out of funding, they had some spare moons just lying around Jupiter. So we figured, 'Hey, nobody is using these, this planet needs some juice, win-win.' Amirite!

And, um, did the Coalition approve of the moving of celestial bodies into neutral systems, per the Jimothy Law?

"Pshaw, nah bruh. Paperwork is for the computers, we're meant for the thrill, dude or dudete or dudit. Dudethem? Dudio! Dudorama... wait, is it Deuteronomy? Dudada!"

The Human continued to count variations of the term for the next several minutes, perhaps inebriated by some kind of mind altering substance, though it can be hard to tell with some Humans.

The captain of the ship decided that it's beyond his pay and they're just gonna continue the tour. Some of the Human tourists and even a couple of heavily intoxicated others did decide to cut their trip short and visit this newly tidally active world with it's Human introduced activities. Surfs up!

[omenics]

I hope requesting something is still okay! Also, I really wanted to let you know how beautiful your writing is. Your musings with Carmilla in mind remind me a lot of the actual novella. They're my favourite to read :)

Now onto my request! I wondered if you could write about Carmilla with a reader who is staying at her castle, but they both haven't confessed to each other yet. Some good old-fashioned gothic vampire pining lol

Hope you have a wonderful day and thank you in advance :)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄.

› ..perhaps mortals weren’t all that bad. fem reader. — I SM ACTUALKY SCREAMING THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I READ HOW YOURE REMINDED HOLY SHIT IM SCFEAMJGN PLSSSSSS

Your glances are noticeable. Even when your gaze turns another way, darting anywhere but her when she caught you, it was noticeable. Terribly so. Perhaps she would be revolted with such gazes, disgusted when someone like you so much as breathed around her. But no. You were different. You set off a beat in her heart that she was unfamiliar with, one that she did not know.

Her plans to discard your corpse dwindled with each passing day, and a strange fondness came in its place. She was a lonely woman. Even as a creature of the night, she got lonely. She craved your presence at night, alone in her bed she craved it. She could hear your soft heartbeats echo in the castle walls, reverberating a sound she forgot so long ago, unaccustomed to a beating heart for hers ceased.

Carmilla thought to puncture her fangs into your pretty neck, to make you eternally hers. But that would be cruel, and perhaps you would think her selfish. But love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. But alas, she was so terribly whipped.

Often times she longed to feel your fingers run over her cold skin, to feel your breath amidst her lips, to feel them touch her own.

So day by day she admired you in solace, the little things that kept her mind trailing back to you. She thought you a sorcerer, a witch that entranced her undead heart; but you were not. You were a mortal, a mere human who wedged your way into her mind. So for now, she would admire from afar, watching over you in secrecy, relishing in the warmth you brought her soul. She had all the time in the world, but you did not. Years passed like seconds to her, vampirism halting her lifespan, but around you time slowed down. Time slowed down to a point where she could breathe, admire the world around even if it was utter shit.

She wanted to be yours, you hers. She wanted to spend eons at your side, to hold your hands, to kiss your supple flesh. But now, she would be patient, she would wait. But her feelings did not-would not waver. Never, for she has loved no one and never shall, unless it would be with you.

[void-ink-studios]

Wrath of the Wishmaster

You asked, you shall receive.

Thanks for helping me clear my writer's block. I might write more scenes that happened prior to this, but enjoy what's here for now! Might post to AO3 later, who knows?

Enjoy babes!

Word count: 2,500

There were many things Scarab did not understand about the Wishmaster, Prismo.  Many… Many things.

Why did an all powerful being decide to spend its eternity making pickles and writing fan fiction of the universes he observed?  Why, of all things to add to the featureless Time Cube, was there a hot tub?

And why, above all, did he tolerate all of Scarab's... strangeness?

Because no one liked bugs.

That was the lesson Scarab had learned in his eons of existence.

No one liked bugs.  At least, not the kind of bug he was.

Of course, people like butterflies.  They liked to watch the pretty and dainty little things as they flutter along.  But only from a distance.  People still recoiled if they got a good look at their face.  Or anything that reminded them that they’re bugs, and not just living little splashes of color.

And Scarab was no butterfly.

He was a beetle.  Was?  Is?  He wasn’t sure anymore.  So much of himself had changed since he first emerged from his burrow.

And yet, there was Prismo, calling his little chirps and trills "cute." Encouraging him to find places in the Time Room to burrow and hide and crawl.

There was Prismo, who didn't recoil at the site of his real face. Who saw his strange mouth and eyes and decided to kiss it all over, rather than hide it behind his mask again.

So no, he did not understand many of how Prismo operated. But Scarab was not about to complain. He felt more alive in his own shell than he has in eons. He kept his mask off more often than on these days. His hidden arms had seen more exercise than ever before. He was starting to remember the strange language of chirps and trills and buzzes from his old home.

Of course, there were still bad days. Days where he had to sit still and stare at something stationary just to remember what direction was up. Days where he crawled away into one of his hidden nooks to tremble out of sight.

He had been reluctant to let Prismo in on those days, at first. He held up walls and scooted away and flinched enough to get the Wishmaster to back off for quite a while.

But, as he came back into contact with himself, and as Prismo called him beautiful and quirky, rather than disgusting and unsettling, the walls came down.

He wasn't ready to tell him what happened to his antenna and wings. But, Prismo was at least there to turn the screen wall to something calming. Or to rub his aching back and shoulders on days where he could do little else but shake.

It was... nice. He hesitated to call it wonderful, but it really was. Much better than a bug deserved, but he was not about to remind Prismo of that.

No, he had Orbo to do that for him.

He knew he had grown far too comfortable with Prismo when he heard the orb roll into the Time Room, loudly calling for his buddy the Wishmaster. Who was not currently there, but instead tending to his pickles for the moment. He trusted Scarab to watch the main room for any wishers, which he had been doing diligently from his perch on the ceiling.

Scarab froze, stuck to the ceiling like he was pinned there.

Maybe if I don't move, he won't notice I'm here.

It was a nice thought. But when had the universe been nice to him before?

"Uhm... Scarab? Mate? Whatcha doing up there? I thought we cleared up a while back that that creeped people out."

Scarab stayed silent as he crawled back down the wall. He ignored the way Orbo visibly shivered at his method of locomotion, standing at attention once his feet touched the floor.

He unconsciously made a nervous, light buzzing sound, his mouth parts clicking together as the orb stared at him like a disection project.

"So, what's all this then? You think just because Prismo's not here, you can do whatever you want? I thought we talked about this forever ago, Scrabs. You might be just a bug, but you got raised to the pantheon. You gotta act like it."

Orbo rolled to look around the Time Room. Scarab reached gingerly for the remote, trying to alert Prismo to their visitor.

"Seriously, I still feel bad enough for Prismo to get stuck looking at you when you were at your best. If he's stuck with you, it's the least you could do to not creep the guy out. That's not how you show appreciation, Scrabs."

Scarab tried to tune it out. He wasn't creepy, not to Prismo, Prismo called him beautiful, insect traits and all. Orbo swung around to look at him, now noticing his face.

"Where's your mask, man? No one wants to see the horror show your kind calls a mouth. It's bad enough when we have to watch you eat, you can at least put the rest of it away."

Scarab felt small. Tiny. Just like he did when he first met Orbo, who took one look at him, and decided he wasn't meant for the glittery Judgement Hall. He barely even noticed when he shuffled the plates back over his face.

"Much better. So, where's Prismo then? Not like I came all this way to talk to you, right?"

Orbo laughed. Scarab didn't. He just kept his eyes trained to the floor, still quietly chirping to steady his nerves. His world started to feel tilted. What he wouldn't do for his cane right now.

"Cut it with the noise, mate. It's like you've forgotten you're a god or something. You want to go back to the dirt? Is that it? I can talk to Boss for you, if that's what you want."

"...No. That won't be necessary."

"That's what I thought. Now, where in Glob's name- Oh, Prismo! Buddy, there you are!"

Scarab didn't look up to acknowledge the Wishmaster's presence. He felt so tiny. Just like a gross little bug pinned to the wall.

"...What are you doing here, Orbo?"

That made Scarab look up. Prismo's tone. All the warmth had been sucked out of his voice. There was an edge to it. One that the beetle had never heard before, not even during the whole Fionna and Cake disaster.

"Aw, mate, can't I just come check on my good buddy? It's been ages since your last party, man. Us at the office are just itching to groove again. We'd love to see you!"

Prismo's expression was unreadable. Scarab wasn't used to not being able to read the Wishmaster, he was usually an open book. The blue eye shifted between Orbo and Scarab subtly.

"Just haven't been in the partying mood, Orbo. I've been having some friends over for board games, I guess, but I'm not planning on a party any time soon."

The star core seemed to catch Prismo's shifting glance, turning his attention back to Scarab. The beetle stood ramrod straight. Partially to not draw attention to himself and partially to prevent his body from shaking on uncertain legs.

"Oh. Prismo, buddy, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Orbo rolled back over to Scarab, smirking.

"Say what sooner?"

"That this dude was killing the vibe in here! I mean, I totally get it, I wouldn't want a party either if that was lurking in my place somewhere."

Prismo's expression hardened.

"Scarab's not 'killing the vibe' Orbo. He's been nice to have around, he plays board games with me, Cos, and Death."

Orbo rolled his eyes.

"Prismo, you're cool. You don't have to keep it quiet for his sake. Just say the word and I'll find something else to do with him. It's not the first time he failed to learn a lesson."

"I'm not keeping anything quiet. I like having him around. He's actually pretty cool when he's got the space outside of work, and you're being, like, really uncool, Orbo."

Scarab was stunned. He'd been the only one to ever really talk back to Orbo. He'd never expect someone to do it on his behalf.

"What? Me, uncool? Pris, c'mon, mate. You're allowed to say he's creepy, we all know it. He's a bug. You know, those little creepy crawlies? I thought I trained most of the creepy stuff out of him by now. I know you're everybody's buddy, but you really need to make sure the lesson stays in his head if you don't want him weirding you out. Like, I came in here and he was on the ceiling! Looked like a ghost or something. And without his mask! I thought I made it clear his face is a horror show. Thank Glob I got him to put it back on before you had to see it, bud. It's a real doozy, I'll tell ya."

The beetle wasn't looking at Orbo anymore. No, he was watching the growing horror on Prismo's face. Horror not directed at him for once.

"Dude, Scarab's not that bad. A bit uptight when he's stressed, but still a pretty cool dude. Why should he have to hide so much? This is the Time Room, you're supposed to relax in here."

"Oh, Prismo, you sweet dream child. Scarab's not cool. He's not like us, you know?"

"Like us?"

"Buddy, you're the dream of one of the greatest living wizards in the multiverse! I'm the core of a collapsed magic star! That's where gods like us are supposed to come from! Scarab though? He's just a bug. A creepy crawly cockroach that somehow made it up from the dirt he's meant for."

"Didn't he manage to take down a galactic level threat that you couldn't catch?"

"He got lucky." Orbo looked annoyed. That usually ended well for no one. "Knew I should've finished his punishment before he came here..."

"I thought this was his punishment."

"Oh, no, I'm talking about his punishment for trying to start a revolt. Went over my head to the Boss! All over that nonsense with that unauthorized universe of yours. I was gonna take his legs. Maybe should've pulled out his other arms as well. I still can, if you wanted me to, mate."

The silence in the Time Room was deafening. Scarab has seen a lot of expressions on the Wishmaster's face. Contentment, sadness, boredom, amusement, joy, frustration, all of it.

But he had never seen rage. Not until now, anyway.

"What?"

Orbo seemed to completely miss the change in atmosphere, as he carried on just as before. "Oh yeah, it seems to be the only way he actually learns. Thought the antenna would be enough, but nooo, Mr. Buggy Bigshot still thought himself better. I really thought the thing with the wings would've gotten through to him, but I guess not."

The lights in the Time Room went out. Not even the stars from the void outside shed much light into the cube. Scarab never thought he'd miss the sickeningly bright yellow of the Time Cube, but he's permanently paint his shell its color if it would turn the lights back on.

"You. Did. WHAT?"

There was a guttural hiss coming from where Prismo once was. Blue what replaced by a bright purplish pink, staring down at Orbo and Scarab. A friendly smile was replaced with jagged teeth. Fingers replaced with claws. And a growl rumbled through the cube.

Scarab didn't think. Just acted. He opened himself a passage into the lower levels of the Time Room, scurrying in as fast as his legs could carry him. He could faintly hear Orbo yelling after him, but he ignored it completely. The adrenaline let him ignore the pain, ignore the feeling of constantly tipping over. All his instincts told him was run and hide.

He crammed himself into one of his many makeshift burrows, backing as far into the hole as possible.

Prismo was angry, he knew that much. Anger meant pain. Anger meant he'd lose another piece of himself. What would it be this time, he wondered.

It didn't matter he knew Prismo would never hurt him. It didn't matter he knew he probably couldn't be hurt like that while in this form. All he knew was to curl up and hide.

And so he did.

He shook, in fear and pain, and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. But he didn't dare come out of his cubby.

So he waited.

He didn't know how long it was until he felt the familiar tingle of light against his back. He flinched, a frightened trill falling unwillingly from his throat.

"...Scarab? Sweetheart, are you there?"

...At least he sounded like Prismo again...

"...Yes... Yes, I'm here."

"Good, good. I... I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I don't like what I am when I'm like that but... What Orbo was saying... Your wings..."

Scarab felt his elytra twitch under Prismo's touch. The ragged scraps of wings shivered as well, as the beetle sighed out a soft little chirp.

"...It is the way of things, Prismo... Orbo is not the only one with thoughts like that. It's what I've been taught for eons. No one likes bugs, after all."

There was a long silence after that. Prismo was looking at him with a sad calmness. He reached his other arm into the hole, petting a hand over the parts of his face he could reach under the mask. The bug shivered pitifully into the touch, trying and failing to resist the urge to lean into it.

"...You deserve better, Scrabby."

That's what did it. That's what broke the dam.

Scarab wept into Prismo's hand, shaking hard enough to make his carapace rattle.

"Shh... It's okay, honey... Can you come out here?"

It was slow. Almost painfully so. But he managed to peek his head out of his hiding spot. The Wishmaster gave him a kind smile, if not a sad one.

"Can you let me see you, beautiful?"

Scarab hesitated. Orbo's words echoed in his head, loudly, cruelly.

"...I'm not pleasant to look at, Prismo... Much less beautiful..."

"Nope. Not true, Scrabby. C'mon. Let me see that pretty face of yours."

"Prismo..."

"Please, Scarab?"

The beetle sighed. His face plates shivered again, tucking behind his head. His eyes stared, wide and wet at the Wishmaster. A soft kiss was planted on his forehead.

"There we go. Much better."

Scarab refused to start bawling again. Instead, he climbed the rest of the way out of his burrow to curl against Prismo's chest.

"You don't have to worry about Orbo anymore, by the way. He won't be coming back. Not for a few eons, at least."

Scarab didn't choose to question it. Not right now at least. Instead, he closed his eyes as Prismo's hand pet gently over his aching back, the beetle unconsciously opening up the elytra. The dream's hands were always careful when working around his sorry wings. They made the ache go away.

Scarab began chirping. Softly, at first. But it slowly grew, morphing into a simple, but filling cricket song. He heard Prismo softly join in with a light humming.

He might've been just a bug.

But it turns out at least one person likes bugs after all.

[tribbetherium]

The Late Rodentocene: 20 million years post-establishment

Remember the Titans: Cavybaras of the Late Rodentocene

Much of the Early and Middle Rodentocene had been defined by its lack of large terrestrial megafaunal animals. In these early founding eons, the introduced hamsters still try to gain their footing in a strange new world, first spreading out into adjacent niches filled by other rodents back on Earth, before, over time, slowly progressing generation after generation onto other roles occupied by gradually bigger and more diverse creatures.

Yet in the Late Therocene, this era is quickly coming to an end. As the descendants of the gouties and the squeasels, prey and predator, clash in an arms race to gain an advantage over the other, their sizes have been growing at an unprecedented rate: as bigger prey animals can better defend themselves from predators and are able to resist attacks. The cavybaras, already the largest terrestrial animals of the Middle Rodentocene, have grown even larger than ever before, with some reaching truly impressive proportions.

The largest of them is the titan cavybara (Noderotitan gigantus), which grows to roughly the size of a mid-sized cow and can weigh half a ton or more. These enormous creatures are among the first animals on HP-02017 that can truly be considered megafauna, grazing in small herds on the open plains and feeding on tough, woody vegetation that, without their heavy grazing, would quickly overwhelm the prairies and savannahs and crowd out other, more easily-edible vegetation that other herbivores such as hamtelopes and jerryboas depend on for food. At such a size, the titan cavybara now affects its environment to a degree unlike any seen before: acting as a vital ecosystem engineer helping keep the grasslands well-managed and promoting maximum biodiversityby allowing other plants, and animals dependent on them, to thrive.

While not all cavybara species are as large, they nonetheless are quite huge for their time compared to the hamsters they descended from, and thus have come to affect the environment in significant ways. Wetland swampsogs (Potamocricetochoerus breviceps) are smaller, but still quite large, cavybaras that have a preference to marshy areas, spending much of their time in the water to cool off, conceal themselves from biting insects, and foraging at the bottoms of swamps, rivers and lakes for the abundant, fast-growing aquatic plants. They, too, are important ecosystem engineers, as their huge appetites for water plants prevent them from overgrowing in bodies of water, shading out all the sunlight from photosynthesizers lower down at the lake bottoms and clogging the flow of rivers and impeding its usual course that can lead to small, localized droughts when river flows bringing much-needed water to drier regions get deprived of their usual water supply.

Not all cavybaras are purely grazers, however. In the competitive environment of the Rodentocene, where many clades collide and compete for niches in the presence of many vacant ecological spaces, it pays off sometimes to try something new, that others have not yet taken advantage of. Long-toothed cavyboars (Protosuimys magnodontus) are one such illustration of this, having expanded beyond a diet of tough, woody vegetation and also supplementing its diet with seeds, fruit, roots, insects and even carrion and small animals on occasion. These proper omnivores have the upper hand in dealing with small-scale food shortages, as they can thrive off other sources of sustencance until their preferred forage becomes available again, while other more-specialized species are forced to migrate in search of food or simply die out at the slightest changes of the environment. To aid in digging up roots and invertebrates, the cavyboars' lower teeth have become longer and stronger, protruding out of the animal's mouth even when closed: these also make remarkably effective weapons when utilized by males against same-species rivals over food, territory, and mating rights to nearby receptive females.

While many cavybaras have grown to enormous sizes, a few have taken an opposite route. Some, like the banded cavilet (Nanocricetochoerus minimus) have, in fact, gotten smaller than their Middle Rodentocene ancestors, as they became small-scale herbivores feeding close to the ground in a manner similar to rabbits or guinea pigs. These tiny cavybaras specialize on the tough woody stems and shoots of small ground plants and grasses, and would eventually usurp and outcompete the broadheads: a clade of Early Rodentocene herbivores whose lineage would disappear entirely by the beginning of the Middle Rodentocene.

While cavilets continue to persist in the Temperocene in small, unassuming grazer-rodent niches, they have changed little from the Late Rodentocene, having settled onto a stable and secure ecological space that has profited them since then. But their ever-growing kin continue their trend of increasing size well into the Therocene and Glaciocene. From the titan cavybaras eventually come the mison, the Therocene's dominant megafaunal herbivores, from which in turn descended the hammoths of the Glaciocene and the piggalo of the Temperocene. The semi-aquatic swampsogs, meanwhile, would become the amphibious mudmallows, with some crossing across shallow seas to colonize islands and subcontinents in the Temperocene, while the cavyboars, with their diverse and omnivorous diets, would give rise to the highly successful bumbaas, some of which, the beelzeboars, would become proper carnivores during much of the later part of the Therocene.

-----------

[melliae]

The Last Boss in Persona 3

This is more of a continuation to my previous post (in Tumblr, here) about the meaning behind the Universe arcana. This post will follow the same main idea of my previous one: to analyze the meaning of final boss within the series through using esoteric and psychoanalitical concepts.

Now, before analyzing everything, it'll be better to first summarize the final boss' lore:

“The mother of all Shadows and bringer of death since ancient times. If she awakens, ‘the Fall’ will occur.” - Persona 3 Portable (I wanted to use the japanese version, but I haven’t found any perfect save for P3P/FES in japanese, or a ISO for Vanilla)

That’s almost everything that the game says in relation to what Nyx is, and it’s just a repetition of what Ryoji explained in December. There’s some interesting comments the cultists give during January, like how it “will change the flow of causality” or is an “Absolute Will” (“普遍の意志”, or “Universal/Omnipresent Will”), but their nature is obviously biased. It’s not until the release of the P3 Club Book that its lore becomes clearer, and which I’m going to summarize as it follows:

Nyx” is not actually called “Nyx”, but it’s a nameless entity classified as some sort of “Star Eater” that, eons ago and in a dormant state, crashed against the hadean earth (4.5 billions of years ago).

Due to both its dormant state and it’s strange material composition, existing between “mass and information” (similar to the Velvet Room), both the earth and the Star Eater survived the impact, but not without consequences: a lot of the earth’s matter came off and covered the Eater’s body, creating the moon – the Persona version of the “giant impact theory”.

However, that’s only in regards to the body, because its psyche got separated from the body and “flooded” earth’s surface, putting at risk the existing, but primitive life (ie. amoebas) on it due to its anathemic nature.

Life, driven completely by its instinct to survive, sealed the psyche within themselves, limiting their lifespan (ie. creating death) as well as allowing their psychological development, ending in both the creation of consciousness and the collective unconscious.

As you can see, there’s a good reason Nyx is called the “maternal entity”: its very own soul is what allowed the birth of humanity and all forms of complex life, explaining why it was named “Nyx” by the Kirijos – just as the greek deity give birth to all sort of deities that shape the human experience, the Star Eater made possible its existence. The same applies to its title as “mother of Shadows”, because its psyche wasn’t only sealed within the depths of the collective unconscious by life’s drive to live, but also became an essential part of the human soul as well: their Shadow. So it’s not that “she” is the mother of Shadows, but that Shadows are Nyx, and we all know how important they are.

“The Shadows we hold in our psyches themselves are not just mere prisoners, but have become an essential part of the inner structure of our minds. Without a Shadow, a mind - especially one as highly complex as that of a human being - cannot function properly and ceases to work, as if it had been lost entirely.” – Ikutsuki, P3 Club Book

“What I released from the Trapezohedron just now was the half of that woman that could not come to life until now: her complexes, her emotional trauma–her suppressed Shadow, if you will. And you learned on the other side what happens should you kill the mind’s Shadow, didn’t you? How ironic that it was all of you who made her this way.” - The Faceless God (Nyarlathotep’s Avatar), Tatsuya’s Scenario (referencing Yukino’s end if her Shadow jumps into the abyss).

“If we erase a Palace, there is no doubt that the person’s distorted desires will be erased as well. But desires are what we all need in order to survive. The will to sleep, eat, fall in love–those sort of things. [...] If all those yearnings were to vanish, they’d be no different than someone who was shut entirely. They may even die if they’re not given care.” - Morgana, Persona 5

The shadow men, apathy syndrome, mental shutdowns, and psychotic breakdowns… All of them are manifestations of what happens when the Shadow of an individual is disturbed or destroyed: the collapse of the individual psyche or soul. That means it’s equally valid to affirm Nyx is the origin of both all Shadows and souls in the series, becoming even clearer when see how the personality module of the anti-shadow weapons, their “papillion heart”, is made out of plumes of dusk, crystalline fragments of Nyx’s body. This is further strengthened by Sho Minzauki’s second personality, born out of the plume implanted on his brain, and Metis as the Shadow of Aigis, bearing the name of Athena’s mother and her Persona being the embodiment of the soul in greek mythos.

It’s easy to see, then, that Nyx is not just “another god” (without the intention to diss Izanami, Yaldabaoth and the rest), but a primordial aspect of the life’s collective psyche (ie. the unconscious). That’s why it’s called the “Universal/Absolute Will”, for “she” is all around life and humanity, being the “ground of being” from which all their potentials come from, for even the very own power of Persona is nothing but something derived from the “small Nyx” acting as the foundation of one’s psyche. Even the capability to alter space-time and reality inherent to life is derived from it, even in Tadashi’s trilogy.

“Mitsuru: These people are Persona Users who appeared in “Megami Ibunroku Persona”, “Persona 2: Innocent Sin” and “Persona 2: Eternal Punishment”. As far as we can see from what’s been shown on television, they seem to be living peaceful lives right now. [...] Akihiko: Still, those guys are Persona Users, right? They have the potential, yet I haven’t heard anything about people like that trying to help out with the things that have been happening here in the Minato Ward… Mitsuru: Well, you have to consider that not all of them might be Persona Users any longer. [...] According to the staff, in our game, the “Value of Life” is defined by the sudden changes in time and space that our wills can bring about. We’ve already explained that Shadows have the ability to manipulate space-time, so the same might be true for those they dwell in, us living beings.” - P3 Club Book

“From the first, people have had a tremendous power in their souls over the flow of reality. [...] Yes… The power that created your world is the same as your inner strength… In this collective unconsciousness, it’s possible.” - Philemon, Innocent Sin.

Even the plumes of dusk, and thus the body of Nyx, have the same properties to alter reality, and emit readings similar to “living beings” despite being deadly to life on earth.

While it’s pretty clear how encompassing Nyx's lore and nature is, it’s important to keep in mind that most of this, at some level, was implied or said by the games. Side material like the Club Book just clarifies what was shown in the Journey, the Answer and even Arena. So now, it’s time to really analyze the beast this eldritch abomination is.

The Golden Egg

Now, it’s just common sense to begin with the mythological foundation of the games: greek mythology, and in particular Orphism, a branch which acted as a mystery (ie.secret) cult mythological founded by Orpheus. It preached, in basic terms, about the findings of the poet after he returned to the land of the living with wisdom about the nature of the world, its cycle of death and rebirth, and how to break from it.

It’s unknown if there’s a cycle of reincarnation in Persona, but we know there may be a similar thing based on Enlil’s quote of how “humans have learned nothing from the cycle of destruction and rebirth” during her second phase. There’s something similar in PQ, where Zen described the “providence of the world” (ie. the collective unconscious), and in the Club Book, about how the unconscious created an archetypal tale between demons and gods to protect the human soul from Nyx’s influence. However, that’s not that relevant, with our focus being more on the creation myth of the cult:

“Similarly, in connection with the raven as the name for this situation, we must consider the creative night mentioned in an Orphic hymn, which calls it a bird with black wings that was fertilized by the wind (pneuma). The product of this union was the silver egg, which in the Orphic view contained heaven above and earth below, and was therefore a cosmos in itself, i.e., the Microcosm.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

Within the context of cosmogonical eggs, the hindu hiranyagarbha can also be rescued, described by Jung as “the collective aggregate of all souls”. The relation between these two eggs and Nyx as the “mother of all” is quite obvious, but more important is the fact that its core is a giant, golden egg… cracked – the universe has already been born. But as I wrote in my previous post and as implied by the hiranyagarbha, the universe born out of Nyx is equal to the collective unconscious and thus humanity, harking back to other traditions in which the archetypal man is born out of an egg.

Since we now know what Nyx gave birth to the collective soul of life after “she cracked” or crashed against earth, we must ask what was it like before it crashed:

“The phenomenology of the "child's" birth always points back to an original psychological state of non-recognition, i.e., of darkness or twilight, of non-differentiation between subject and object, of unconscious identity of man and the universe. This phase of non-differentiation produces the golden egg, which is both man and universe and yet neither, but an irrational third.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious

Quite self-explanatory, don’t you think so? It even explains why Nyx is an “alien Star Eater”, for its true nature is what lies in the state before the separation of “heaven and earth”, before the divide between unconsciousness and consciousness. This liminal state is even reflected in its body which exists as both information/thought and matter at the same time, in-between the physical moon and the deepest abyss of the Sea of Souls as per Elizabeth’s route in Arena (“最も深淵なる場所だ”), or how even the Club Book describes its main body as “neither organic nor inorganic” ("有機物とも無機物とも判断しかねる外見である") – completely undifferentiated.

Naturally, this brings out to the mind the jewish associations established by the Club Book and the P3xP4 Analyze, about how Tartarus represents both the seven earths Adam wandered after being expelled out of Eden and the Sephirot that comprise the kabbalistic tree of life respectively, the two symbols for the development of consciousness out of the primitive, undifferentiated unconsciousness, which even Soejima noted. The Star Eater, as the one above Tartarus, becomes equal to Paradise and the unconscious godhead, the Ein Sof, from which the tree, synonymous with the archetypal man and universe, grows out, thus being one with the deepest layer of the Sea, as previously commented.

If you remember the confrontation with its Avatar, how “he” uses the narrative of the tree of knowledge to explain the arcanas, it adds another layer to its meaning: the fruit of knowledge is a very obvious metaphor for the birth of consciousness, but also one for the Shadows as well, with both ultimately causing the birth of death (or the awareness about it). This means Nyx, as the sum of all Shadows, is the tree of knowledge and death, which makes it equal to the tree of life and archetypal man, with even Tartarus being compared to the “corpse of god being (hanged) upside-down” in the Analyze book.

“七つの地” は神をシンボライズした “セフィロトの樹” と上下逆向きで対応しており、テベルは根本の基礎部分にあたる “イェンド” に相当する。” “The “seven earths” correspond to the Tree of the Sefirot, which symbolized God upside-down, with Thebel corresponding to “Yesod”, being the root of the foundations.”

And according to the same source, Tartarus is made out of Shadows and the psychic stratum of humanity:

“これは、タルタロスが基本的にはシャドウと同じ精神体によって構成されているからで、言ってみればその場所の記憶のようなものが構造に反映された結果そうなったもの。同様にタルタロス自体の内部構造も精神体からできたもので、タルタロス構造に取り込まれた精神体の記憶のようなものが反映されている” “This is thanks to Tartarus being fundamentally composed by the same psychic nature of Shadows, as if the memories of the research facility were reflected into the structure so to speak. Similarly, the internal structure of Tartarus itself is made up of such psychic substance, and as such it’s as if the memories of that substance were reflected and taken in by Tartarus’ architecture.”

So more reason to think Nyx, in essence, was the preconscious state of humanity and life before it crashed. It’s the unknown, unconscious godhead in which there is no difference between object and subject, acting as its own “universal individual” in a dormant, sleeping state. It’s pure coincidentia oppositorum.

Joining Opposites

“Nyx” means “night, and the night (along with darkness, dusk and many others) is one of the de facto symbols of the unconscious, along with the underworld (Tartarus). The moon being another symbol of the same thing just further confirms the Star Eater is the unconscious or it’s in an unconscious state. However, pure unconsciousness it’s not what only Nyx has to offer, for someone deeply related to it also exists: its avatar, Death, also known as Pharos.

Pharos’ name is a quite interesting, because in japanese is written as “ファルロス”, mixing both the katakana for “ファルス”, or “phallus”, and “ファロス”, or “pharos (of Alexandria)”. There’s no need to comment the masculine nature of the first word, but it has to be done in regards to the second one and its double nature, since the pharos of Alexandria acts as an obvious masculine symbol thanks to its phallic form, and as a symbol of consciousness due to the light it emits. That’s to say, Pharos is the conscious and masculine counterpart to Nyx’s actual state; Ryoji, with his casanova attitude and yellow scarf, reinforces the concept.

Now, all of that means that, just as expected, the original state of Nyx was androgynus in nature – both female and male at the same time. Some remains of this can also be seen in its core, golden and solar in nature despite being within the moon, and obviously harks back to another quote of Jung:

“The moon with her antithetical nature is, in a sense, a prototype of individuation, a prefiguration of the self: she is the “mother and spouse of the sun, who carries in the wind and the air the spagyric embryo conceived by the sun in her womb and belly.” This image corresponds to the psychologem of the pregnant anima, whose child is the self, or is marked by the attributes of the hero.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

Such an image is alchemical in nature, describing the nature of “Queen Luna” (a symbol for both the feminine essence of nature and Nyx) as the mother and partner of “King Sol” (the masculine essence, and in this case Death), who ultimately join in matrimony to achieve the “philosophical stone” – oneness with the world. I doubt I have to explain how the Fall acts as the “shadow” of such a process, ending with the death of all living beings. Though it’s also interesting how is related to the Avatar as such, whom only isn’t only found at the top of Tartarus or “tree of death”, meaning it acquired the same dignity as all other mythological primal humans, but it’s also androgynous in appearance – both feminine and masculine natures are necessary for wholeness, be it conscious or unconscious.

By that matter, the protagonist acts as both “Queen Luna” (gray eyes, pretty boy, “death was inside him”, and Messiah being completely white) and “King Sol”, for he, as “Orpheus”, enters into Nyx’s “eye” in an scene eerily reminiscent of what Jung wrote:

“The “eye” evidently stands for the female genitals, as is clear from the myth of Indra, who, as a punishment for his wantonness, was smitten with yonis all over his body, but was so far pardoned by the gods that the shameful yonis were changed into eyes. The little image reflected in the eye, the “pupilla,” is a “child.” The great god becomes a child again: he enters into the mother’s womb for self-renewal.” - Symbols of Transformation.

Yep… But at any rate, returning to the Avatar, his speech about the arcanas returns once again, since it includes all the arcanas from the Fool to Death, passing through the twelve intermediary ones, with each one representing one of the “hours” within a clock. This implies the Fool and Death stand outside of the cycle of time somehow, and since the Fool it’s the “beginning of life” as per Edogawa’s lecture on japanese, it’s not surprising to connect the card with an infant… like Pharos – Death itself.

Within the Avatar and Nyx the entire cycle of life is described, where both the beginning and end life become one to form a ring, a circle that can be described better as the Universe or World itself, as the Analyze book says:

“最後に発現する “世界” あるいは “宇宙” のタロットには、卵のような形のウロボロスの輪に囲まれた女性の姿が描かれている [...] 二ュクスの中心核は、そのウロボロスの形にも似ている透明な輝く卵の姿をしていた” “In regards to the final manifestation of the “World” or “Universe” tarot card, a feminine figure encircled in an egg-shaped ouroboros ring is depicted. [...] The shining, translucent egg acting as Nyx’s core resembles the shape of the ouroboros as well.”

More telling, the core, despite being the cosmic egg and having the light of creation (or “libido”, the name put by Jung to describe “psychic energy”), only uses “Death” to attack.

The Forgotten Godhead

What you are seeing is one of the first mandalas Jung created during his schizophrenia visions in 1916 or so. It’s called “systema munditotius” or “system of all worlds”, for it represents the psychic activity of all human beings at some level. It’s full of details and the like, but the more important things for now is the vertical axis, beginning with the golden egg with a human at the top, and ending with the lion-headed serpent at the bottom.

The first figure, the egg, represent the future, collective “imago dei” of humanity, the next symbol for the Self that has yet to be born and that Jung called “Phanes”, the primordial being born out of the cosmic egg within orphic myths, embodiment of existence itself and husband, father and/or son of Nyx. The second figure, the serpent or “Abraxas”, represents the past and present “imago dei”, a symbol reminiscent of the Demiurge and a bastardization of the christian god, having both a monster and a caterpillar, the promises of death and life, by its sides, and the tree of life rooted on its head (or mind)

If you begin to think, it becomes obvious what’s the relationship between the Star Eater and those two figures: It’s both. Not only the Eater is both death and a “caterpillar”, since it’s the source of all souls which are represented by butterflies in the series (see the Papillion heart and Psyche), but it’s also the cosmic egg and thus Phanes (see Ryoji). It’s the unconscious self of all humanity, forgotten and fragmented, hanged upside-down, and to which everyone has to obey

“What the god-sun speaketh is life. What the devil speaketh is death. But Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness, in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible. [...] To look upon it, is blindness. To know it, is sickness. To worship it, is death. To fear it, is wisdom. To resist it not, is redemption.” - Seven Sermons to the Dead

For Abraxas, in its primitive and unconscious brutality, is life and its origin, the endless cycle of death and rebirth, just as the Star Eater holds the Fool and the Death as one and the same. They are the flow of time, the drive that created everything from the unconscious as the savage demiurge. They are the endless conflict of life.

But in its role as Phanes, as the yet-to-be born Self, the Star Eater is the promise and realization of all beings – their meaning. However, its core, its egg, is cracked, damaged and divided, and therefore the Self of all humanity is unable to be born yet. For that, the egg must be joined once again and understood, just like Philemon said in IS and Tatsuya’s Scenario, for the egg – the Star Eater – is life.

Such transformation, at an individual level, is masterfully shown with Death’s own journey, going from a shadowy, primitive and savage monster to a kid curious about the world, and then to a teenager which loves everything life can offer from the beginning, all thanks to the journey of the protagonist and all the memories he gained. Yet, such search for meaning wasn’t enough to stop the hopelessness and self-destructivity of the collective, of humanity’s and the godhead’s yearn to return to what they were once… but the protagonist didn’t give up on and, against all possibilities, created a miracle: he was able to give meaning to life and thus to death, instauring hope in the furthest depths of everyone’s hearts.

That’s the true meaning of death within the game. It’s not about merely physical death, but also psychological death, transformation and, ultimately, hope. Death and time are the drives for the endless change within the human soul, equally givers and takers of happiness and tragedy. And with life and light, they make up the totality of the universe we know, for they are one and the same, with the rejection of one meaning the rejection of the other.

Death it’s not only a unknown hunter, but also a part of oneself, and that it’s hopefully treated as a friend even in the worst times. After all, accepting death and life as parts of the whole, to accept that everything will come and go, your sadness and happiness, it’s the first step to break off from the endless cycle of suffering and conflict, of “evil demons and benevolent gods” that are naught but a part of the human soul.

Don’t forget life brims with joy, and that you should bring that same joy to death. Live a good death!

[annabelle-creart]

Ok- so, I got crazy, and probably a little out of mind, but I made something

What would happen in some of the transformers characters we know are actually the 13 Primes????????

But not like they are here- NO, THEY LITERRALLY REINCARNATED BECAUSE THEIR PAST SELFS WANTED TO ESCAPE EVERYTHING TO ABANDON THE RESPONSABILITY AND NOW THEY'RE ASHAMED OF IT BECAUSE OF HOW THINGS WENT THIS FAR AND NOW THEIR PLANET- THEIR FATHER IS DEAD!!!

Resume of what I made this far but context first, and have in mind this is mostly based on my Au Life of Rescue Bots, which you can read on Ao3 and Wattpad :D

AND ALSO, I know I changed some things that definitely don´t happen in canon but I developed this Au in my head before knowing better of the Primes, that´s why it is like this and also I wanted to make some lore and angsty and existentialist shit, now, enjoy:

Prima Prime - Optimus Prime:

Leader, creator of the Star saber and the matrix, he was the smartest and trustworthy of all of them, but that power made him paranoid, unable, weakening his processor. He was so conflicted about his own mind and ideals about his siblings that the only solution he thought about was to destroy his own body and reincarnate his spark into someone else, he was the third Prime to do this, reincarnating many eons later as Orion Pax, who later was chosen Prime because the Matrix recognized its creator, but Orion didn't knew this 'till the Matrix itself "waked" all the memories his spark closed in his new body, making him Optimus Prime, that's one of the reasons he's so determinate to stop Megatron and the war, but he don't want to repeat his errors by killing him.

Vector Prime - Sideswipe:

Master of Time and Space, user of the Rishling, great and wise Prime, 'till he became the last Prime alive and decided to retire from the job, abandoning it and letting go the universe protection and leaving both the Clockwork and the Rishling hidden, that's the reason why Cybertron end up like that, because he never cared about the war again and didn't stop it at time, his job was supposed to evade things from disaster and he never stop it or cared, or that´s what everyone would say, actually, Vector wanted some vacation and let the work to his most beloved minicon, reincarnating as a racer on Velocitron named Sideswipe, the vacation was supposed to last just some eons, but he didn´t knew this type of transmutation would led him to forgot who he was, he was the most relaxed and childlike of the Primes but definitely they didn´t expected him to be such an irresponsible teen like Sideswipe.

Alpha Trion - Soundwave:

The Archivist, the Writer of Cybertron's culture and history, the last Prime before Vector into being reincarnated, doing so to search for the rest of the Primes, but due to the blocked memories from his spark, he forgot his true porpouse and decided to live a normal life as Communications Operator, and later as member of Council, accompanied by their twin-sparks, Heatwave, a lower-caste bot who became Rescue Bot and Shockwave, a senator and also scientist, later discovering something strange about them, but not before pairing with Megatron, the Decepticon leader, and without noticing, being an important member of Cybertron's History. Soundwave discovered their condition as Prime when their twin-spark, Shockwave, mentioned him that Archives would be History books if books said the truth, remembering a conversation they had time ago with Vector. The Fact is that Alpha Trion never liked to be part of history, just to see it, because he lived the consequences of it and didn´t like it, but now he was a member of the history again, and those consequences were pursuing them again.

Solus Prime - Heatwave: (I just discovered Solus is a fembot, don't judge me)

Not just the first fembot, but also the first creator aside from her father, with the help of a Forge she created herself, she made weapons and tools for her and her brothers, her mere existence is an inspiration for the fembot's forms and processors and for the lives and hopefull sparks of Cybertron, unfortunately, her death by Megatronus hand left a hole on Cybertron where she closed her spark, until she felt the presence of two of his brothers on it, becoming their twin-spark, this time as a male bot, but his love for creation continued impregnating his spark, unfortunately, as a sparkling, he was later sent to be a miner, and after it, he became a Rescue Bot to escape that fate, finding consolation at his new team, one of them his conjux, and at Megatron's call for freedom, regretting it completely when he got into stasis and discovered during it he was a Prime, reviving over and over again the trauma of being killed by the one who was supposed to be the love of her life, and he was about to do that AGAIN if he never got in that ship. He´s still unsure of how she should call himself, but for her team's good, he makes like anything happened, especially for Cody's good...

Alchemist Prime - Shockwave:

No matter the time, moment or place, as Prime and as Decepticon scientist he was Elemental, the only reason why he is now so cold is because of the punishment he recieved from the Senate, but during his period on it, he was know for his kind spark and his great determination, his beautiful smile and his joy for helping others. His power and curious can be only compared to magic, but it's actually science, same that passed the layers of space itself and, with the help of Alpha Trion, reincarnated to search for his siblings,but instead, forgetting his whole past and becoming by accident a death machine, only analyzing his own acts when Soundwave, knowing better of his condition, destroyed the emotional supressors on Shockwave's processor and passing through all the memories he forgot he had.

Micronus Prime - Servo:

The first minicon, the counscioness of the Thirtheen, fast, smart, agile, of great personality and capable of much more his size made the rest think, he had the power, the passion and all the energy to give his siblings all they needed for a short moment, and after all of this, when his leader, Prima disappeared, he did the same, and became a lot of minicons, lived a lot of lives leaving all his power behind, and with each life, forgetting more about who was, being now a minicon service robo-dog on the service of a marine old and injured bot named Hightide, now Micronus is know as Servo and don't expect or want his siblings to find him, mostly because everyone thought he united with the Allspark so, he can have a normal and peaceful life with Hightide, unfortunately, his sister- well, now brother, Solus is as perceptive as always.

Nexus Prime - Nexus:

Compared to the rest, the first combiner and the first Bot-System, never had a reincarnation, they were the same since the beginning of time, fought in the Civil War with Optimus Prime, hiding their true selves, so, no one would ask for none of them again, especially because they felt betrayed when the rest of their siblings just go away, not knowing the true story but being too ashamed and hurt to hear it, dispersing and disappearing in the pits of Velocitron, the deeps of the moon and the old tunnels of the now dead Cybertron, until they were called again on the Saloon...

Onyx Prime - Cody Burns:

The Lord of Beast, and also the most spiritual and full of kindness of all the Primes, compared to his scary tangible himself, he was a being of love and freedom, who cared more about the rest than himself but never let his sibling tame him to be part of the Allspark, no matter how injured he was, instead, to fool him, as the second king of jokes he always was but no one knew, he escaped to a planet named Earth, and using his and Unicron´s power, he hided the Triptych Mask on the moon and transmuted his spark into a kid, who, with the time and his descendants, would inherit the spark of Onyx Prime, since then, one by one, the spark pass through parent and child, who also became parent and had a child, finally, passing the spark from the best know as Chief Charlie Burns to his son, Cody Burns, not knowing about this until both father and son discovered the old and "dead" carcass of a metallic Griffin, with who Cody shared a strange connection, and the griffin shared a strange connection with the bots once he called siblings.

Amalgamous Prime - Makeshift:

When his siblings started to disappear, this Trickster, first king of jokes and Master of change came to Primus for knowledge, but instead, was received with the vision of the horrible fate of his siblings, and all the things that could happen in they decided to fight against the other, and with it, the truth about Solus´s death, he was determinate to tell the rest, but due to this truth, Megatronus felt threatened and also kill this Prime, robbing his t-cog in the process, uniting him to the Allspark and then, run away. For some reason, he, in the same way their siblings did, reincarnated as a shapeshifter lot of time later, but unfortunately, as the same way the new live on Cybertron affected Solus and his new form, Amalgamous, now know as Makeshift was obligated to live using his abilities to hurt, trick and end with the other without any mercy, not knowing about his past until Megatron tried to kill him, tried, because Makeshift then remembered his life as Prime and managed to escape, leaving his unhonored life, hiding as much as possible in Earth with nowhere to go.

Quintus Prime - Nightshade:

Quintus was know as the creator, but he was also an older brother, a scientist, a philosopher and an explorer, he loved to read in the quietness of the Saloon as much as he loved to go and explore the cosmos, creating and dispersing life on it, he became unaware of his siblings manners after it, concentrated into creating the Quintessons with his beloved Emberstone, a gem that, otherwise everyone thought, it´s alive and has a mind on its own. Quintuss, compared with his siblings, and for Primus' liking and sadness, wanted to be a father or something as his creator, he wanted something of his own, not necessarily something to be remembered, but something that would transcend and leave a mark on the universe, and he did, but instead of making the good with it, his creations killed him and tried to use the Emberstone for conquer, but the artifact saved him by guarding his spark on itself, and when the Quintessons were defeated by Cybertron, the Emberstone managed to escape, hiding itself on Earth and been sleep since then, until a pair of kids decided to touch it and the Emberstone thought it would be a good idea to create again, using Quintus spark to create one of the five new beings who named themselves Terrans. Nightshade suspects something is wrong with themself, but doesn´t know yet about it, Optimus didn´t suspect of them yet, but the rest does.

Liege Maximo - Galvatron:

A bot who has all the good of his trickery siblings and all the bad of his most kind sparked siblings, he´s a bot of beautiful words and horrendous intentions, only paying attention to his evil plan of conquering Cybertron when he discovered Prima only kept him close because he wanted to put an optic on him, and with it, all his plan felt into place: Megatronus killed Amalgamous and Solus and ran away? They were needed deaths; Quintus decided to go to discover his purpose? He needed him out of the equation; Onyx was about to be sent with the Allspark? Onyx didn´t wanted to be tamed, and he needed an army of beast only Liege could control, everything was coldly calculated so Liege would kept everything for his own, it´s ironical how scared Prima was of Megatronus, when the true menace to this universe was this bot. When the rest discovered about his treachery, they destroy him and burried him, but, like the rest of his siblings, came again, not as stronger but as smart and treacherous, he remembered everything since the beginning and was more than happy to end with his "beloved" siblings when the war started to get out of control.

Megatronus - Megatron:

Tricked by his own insecurities and jealousy, Megatronus were once a loyal brother, but his title on chaos gave to his siblings the excuse to think about him everything they wanted, from gain the fear or the love, but that was just the beginning, because when he thought things would finally change, Liege´s plan was complete, and in his frustration and loneliness, destroyed his spark... or that was what he thought, because, with no memories of his past as Prime, once again Megatronus found himself as a sparkling, they named him D-16 and treated him like an object, raised like something that could be replaced in any moment, he changed his destiny in the Arena of the Gladiatorial, once again gaining a name: Megatron, and using his new power to fight against Cybertrons oppresive system, once again, Megatronus had found his porpoise, his reason of life and the meaning of his existence, if that´s the case, then, why he became an autobot, leave decepticons and tried to forgot his past, trying to clean his errors on Earth? Because his processor is loud, and is constantly threatening him, cursing him, retelling his errors and remembering him how much he hates himself.

The Thirteenth - ???:

The mysterious brother, no one except his siblings know much about them, after being injured and almost killed on the battle against Unicron, The Thirteenth became one with the Allspark, always remembering to their siblings the true importance of being All One, after his passing, his siblings fragmented themselves, but if it wasn´t for them, the rest would never met again to repair what they left behind...

The Saloon:

A place where the minds of the Primes go when they´re needed, it is only accessible if the Prime wants to be there and due to it´s state of "alternate plane of reality" it can only be visited by the Primes and Primus itself, the only one who can´t enter is Liege because Vector, creator of this space, managed to change the programmatic of it to expel him, expelling also Galvatron.

[moodymisty]

To salvage the horny stuck-in-the-wall brainrot I propose the hole in the wall already being a natural part of the architecture.

This is a planned part of the building, the opening doesn’t represent an issue with the wall’s structural integrity, patching it up would just be redundant and a waste of resources. What’s more, it heavily reinforced to stand up to heavy impacts and excessive jostling, despite it being a wall inside the fortress-monastery and not outside. This was clearly intended for some use when the past Imperial Fists built the fortress-monastery.

The problem is that the current Imperial Fists don’t know what its purpose is for, maybe it’s because of the eons that have passed, its true purpose becoming lost to time or maybe it’s because the original architect just had a strange sense of style. Whatever the case they have a hole in a wall that clearly has a purpose, but one they cannot discern.

It actually really starting to frustrate some of them. This is a part of the building schematics for this fortress monastery and so the Imperial Fists who designed it and constructed it wouldn’t have put it there if it wasn’t supposed to serve or be used for a specific purpose. They have been stubbornly trying to intuit its purpose and having no luck.

It’s probably a serf who makes the suggestion, saying that its purpose must have been a convenient location where battle brothers when unable to engage in training matches, duels, and battle could instead release their aggression non-violently by anonymously fucking a serf.

This, of course, was obviously meant as a crass joke, something panickedly said by the serf in the moment to potentially lighten her master’s darkening moods. Instead, the Astartes’s eyes turn to her and the next thing she knows she is stuck in the wall while the Astartes each have a go at fucking her into incoherence. A course of action that works so well that it relieves the Astartes of their mounting frustration. It’s then decided that yes, that was the hole’s original purpose all along and that they should really start using it for its intended purpose.

This is still unrealistic, but I did my best trying to somewhat logically explain how such a scenario could potentially happen.

I love that we're attempting to apply logic to the hole in the wall scenario, i don't need logic to get reamed by a bunch of Imperial fists. /j

the hole shall stay! for troop moral

[m1d-45]

judas

summary: who can be blamed for a world wide calamity? the executioner, the judge, or the jury?

word count: ~1.3k

-> warnings: mention of blood, implied death(you, but you revive after), um minor spoilers for inazuma and sumeru archon quest, as well as for kazuha lore

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (no pronouns)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

to see a god is a feat most strive their whole lives toward. to bear witness to one so much holier than you, to view a deity far beyond your time. mortals pray to statues and shrines, each vying for the eye of the heavens, a select few showing off their rewards in the form of a gleaming vision.

but even those with a vision cannot see the stars. true gods- the true god is a memory beholden to only a few, to those that remember the times prior to the archon war. before the creator lifted to celestia, sequestered away far from the petty meddling of people.

they’re missed. they’re always missed. the gods have a hole their gnoses are too small to fill, a deep ache that beats with their hearts, yearning for the one they called ‘home.’ it’s not unlike the feeling one gets on a clear night, looking up to the stars, knowing the world’s so vast and you are so small, unsure whether to be afraid or comforted.

so they wish their god a well recovery? do they grieve the idea that they may die before that happens? do they grab a bottle from the shelf and bear headaches without hangovers, do they sit at a worn table and drink tea nobody else remembers, do they sleep endlessly, hoping to dream instead? what does one do, when so alone? what does one do, when the stars blanket the sky and they are struck with the remembrance of their finite lives?

mortals get up from their blankets. look away, go to bed, rise the next day with the only star they know being the one that warms the stones beneath their feet. but gods don’t tire easily, and the nights are known for stretching far longer than days.

the unlucky ones die.

the cursed are given a false prophet.

“if you remember me, then i don’t care if anyone else forgets.”

the greater lord was kind. too kind. beloved. unfairly so. how strange, she wondered, fading to dust, that she did not see her god greeting her. how odd, she thought, that the closest she had come to heaven was within the moments before her death.

it’s not her fault. it never was. the eyes that watched from celestia were hard with iron and not time, cruel with choice and not purpose. so many died, so many didn’t have to, so many fell under the foot of a fraud while their true colors hid behind a mask.

“do you remember me?”

“do you?”

it wasn’t your fault either. it never was. your chosen warrior, your first picked, saved from the grips of the one who had stolen your place. so many people, so many names, so many conversations held within proxy. the earth remembered, the people rejoiced, and yet it was only your golden companion that questioned the sea.

(the waves calmed. eons old bodies finally laid to rest. the abyss itself stilled for just a moment, just long enough to stop and watch you smile, and even now occasionally lent an ear to your pride.)

how unfair, that you once laughed together but now cry alone.

to lay eyes upon the divine is one thing. to view with one’s own eyes even a fraction of true power is enough to blind the commons, and even the most ancient dragon must bow its head. but to touch? to hold, to grasp, to feel universes thrumming beneath your fingers, the power of giants hovering barely an inch away?

“we named a constellation after you.”

you had said hello. a god, a being so far beyond mortal understanding, crouching to one knee and extending a hand to a child that had fallen. you could have walked by. perhaps on another day you might’ve. but you didn’t recognize the world as your home, and she didn’t recognize you as hers, fleeing to the guards the moment she saw something a little too bright in your eyes.

it wasn’t your fault. the ground is stained with blue and that child’s hand burns with the fire found in the core of a newborn sun, hot and new far too much for someone so young to handle. a samurai will never be able to look at his sword the same way again, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for that either. his hand holds the grip as his own shakes, red eyes struggling to take in what he sees.

the human mind reacts strangely when it sees something it doesn’t understand. it fizzles, stops, the wiring going dull as it realizes its neurons are far too small to comprehend the unusual stimuli. unfortunately, this response does not lend itself to survival, and the drive to live overshadows your cries for the same.

he doesn’t like the visit that part of town anymore. he can’t look at maple leaves without remembering how they stuck to the ground, weighed down by blood. he visits a familiar grave, tucked between two sharp cliffs, lingering far past the settling of lavender melon on the ground. he kneels there for a few hours too long, wondering of all the what ifs.

it’s not his fault either. it’s nobody’s. they were given a candlelight and were told it was a star, even as they watched the wax drip. he was doing his best, and it just so happened that in the blind grasp for a handhold, he’d pushed you away. he couldn’t see. it wasn’t his fault.

“don’t blame yourself, kazuha.”

“the tide does not stop rising when asked. neither does the guilt.”

it wasn’t his fault.

you try to remind yourself of this, at times. so does he. the two of you lie awake at inane hours of night, searching the sky for an answer.

what happened? what went wrong? was it me? was it anyone?

celestia looks down with eyes of fake steel, looking between you and the empty throne behind them. they’d finally caved, thrown the one they puppeted for the vishaps to dissect and the hillichurls to pull apart, but now worried. they’d certainly be punished if it was known they’d allowed this to happen… was it their fault, perhaps?

eyes sought out others, the council known as ‘heaven’ lost for what to do. their eyes joined yours, as yours joined kazuha’s, all tilted up and beginning to turn glassy.

the universe is so big, each star their own system, and it’s so hard to feel like any more than sand when it’s displayed so clearly. maybe it was kazuha’s fault, for not recognizing the light you shed as that of the sun. maybe it was celestia’s, for continuing to entertain an impossible fantasy. maybe it was the earth’s, for guiding you where it thought was safe, maybe maybe maybe. it doesn’t matter. did it ever? your heart burns with grief—love—as you go to bed, sheltered within a hilichurl camp. kazuha stays up too late, punishing himself with the fog of sleepiness that lasts a little too long the next day. celestia doesn’t feel guilt, for when did it ever, but the next day is unproductive, something strange taking place of the air there.

maybe it was nobody’s fault. maybe the world was disjointed, unfamiliar with your presence, stuttering for a moment as it collected itself once more. maybe in that moment of confusion, of flickering light and a burnt out flame, tragedy had struck like lightning. the universe was illuminated, bathed in the gleam of your power, able to see what it couldn’t in darkness.

it wouldn’t happen again, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. scars still ached when it rained, and the skies were weeping as it realized what had occurred in shadow.

[papiliotao]

・❥・OF DEVASTATION AND IDYLLIC AFFIRMATIONS

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Character: Scaramouche

♡ — Synopsis: After all he has been through, Kunikuzushi finds it difficult to trust. However, a single push causes his indifferent façade to shatter.

♡ — Content: Scaramouche is referred to as Kunikuzushi, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending, nightmares, clingy Scara, vague spoilers for Scara’s backstory, established relationship (but it's in its early stages)

♡ — Word Count: 883

Kunikuzushi has a strange tendency of edging his way around intimacy. He has his back to you each night as you fall asleep beside each other in your shared bed, and whenever you ask to hold him, he rejects your advances without hesitation.

Sometimes his words hurt. They drive venom-coated daggers into your fragile heart with the utmost precision, never failing to make you wince as the pain of your lover’s refusal sows seeds of doubt within your mind. However, after pursuing Kunikuzushi for what feels like eons, you know better than to take his harsh remarks at face value.

Deep down, he’s still afraid — afraid of love. Despite the fact that your gentle touches and reassuring words have acted as remedies to the illness that afflicts his heart, he still can’t help but fear losing you. Loving you just to lose you is the last thing he would ever want, so he keeps his distance, not ready to fully commit just yet.

There are still moments where he’s softer — showing the side of him that you have come to adore through touches as fleeting as autumn leaves and bashful compliments spoken in a voice as soft as a calm zephyr, but it always feels like there’s an invisible barrier that Kunikuzushi is too afraid to shatter. For now, you are nothing more than casual lovers, and while you are awaiting the day Kunikuzushi will finally break the wall and give you his entire heart, Kunikuzushi is trying his best to ensure that you won’t get too attached to him.

To him, the pain of abandonment is an old friend. It lurks in every shadow, every moment of silence, and every intrusive thought, perpetually bringing up the question of what he would do if you ever left him. He doesn’t want the hurt of your betrayal to sting, but above all, the feeling of being forsaken by someone you love is something he would never wish upon you.

So whenever he has to reject your requests to pull him close while you fall asleep, he reminds himself that he’s doing it for you. After all, if he stays away, then you’ll love him less, and if you love him less, then it won’t hurt as much when you inevitably part.

Despite his intentions, he is blind to the suffering that he is making you endure in the process. You, the innocent, courageous, and patient soul that somehow learned to love someone as abhorrent as him. If his heart was honest, he would admit that he wants nothing more than to keep you close to him, but Kunikuzushi cares not for verity in the face of loss.

However, everything changes one morning when you awaken to the feeling of breath tickling your skin. You feel arms wrapped around your waist and a comforting warmth pressed up against you. When you open your eyes, you feel as though the air is knocked out of your lungs by the endearing sight before you.

Your face is mere centimetres away from Kunikuzushi’s. His eyes are closed, and he looks as though he is suspended in a state of pure bliss. Sunlight tints his pale skin a golden shade, making him appear the liveliest you have ever seen him. It’s all breathtaking beyond measure, but what makes your heart seize up the most is the small smile that adorns his visage. It’s subtle — barely noticeable, but it’s there. He’s angelic.

Kunikuzushi begins to stir far too soon for your liking. You try your best to pull away, fearing rejection in spite of the fact that he is the one holding you, but to your surprise, Kunikuzushi’s grip tightens as he whispers a subdued, nearly-inaudible, “stay.”

He’ll never admit it, but he had a nightmare the night prior. Darkness spun of his deepest insecurities and anxieties tormented him for hours on end, and in the midst of it, all he could think about was how he needed you by his side. When he woke up, his first course of action was to frantically search for you. He only managed to calm his breathing and brush the strands of hair sticking to his forehead away after confirming that you were still beside him, sleeping soundingly without a care in the world.

After reliving his most distressing fears, he lets himself admit that the thought of you helps him overcome the worst of them. In you, he is able to find solace, even in the midst of perturbed moments, so he finally allows himself to succumb to his desires. 

Kunikuzushi breathes in your comforting scent as he buries his head in the crook of your neck and pulls you even closer to him. He closes his eyes, sighing contently as you make no move to get up or question him. The puppet now knows that in your presence, he can be his true self without fear of abandonment; you understand him — all his hopes, all his fears, and all his deepest wishes, so for the first time in centuries, he allows himself to trust.

As he drifts into an enchanting slumber filled with the most joyous of emotions, the tension in Kunikuzushi’s body alleviates ever so slightly. Everything feels like an exuberant dream when he is with you.

I mostly speedran this, so I'm not 100% sure if it's decent. Thank you for reading, and please remember to take care and have a nice day!

[alternativeminiatures]

New Trench Crusade unit, I don't know how they would make this into a miniatures, but mother of god, just the concept art is incredible!

++HUNTER OF THE LEFT HAND PATH++ The hunters of the Court of the Seven-headed Serpent are followers of the Left-hand Path. They stalk the primordial hinterlands of hell, where they hunt terrifying beasts and perform vile magicks and auguries using the innards of their still-living prey to discern portents and omens. They follow the hidden paths, the secret ley lines that connect the eons old shrines and ruins that still endure in the cancerous, tortured wilds of hell. The hunters haunt the remnants of kingdoms, the sites of ancient battles and places of legend long forgotten by the scribes and cartographers of Hell. In solitary rituals the hunter makes appalling oblations before these forgotten shrines, genuflecting and making obeisance to enigmatic beings of awesome power whose names even the Arch-Devils have forgotten. To arm themselves, the hunters perform strange rites upon their left arm, driving into it nails of infernal iron forged in the foundries of the city of Pandemonium. Their left arm grows into wicked shapes, often taking the form of a powerful hunting bow that fires arrows made from the hunterâ™s own diseased blood. Such darts can be used for many purposes: killing their prey outright, paralyzing them, or causing them to see visions of their own demise. They wear the pale skins of the stargazing oracle beasts that wander the burning plains of hell in great herds. The eyes of the oracles are alive even after their death and watch out for the new master that wears their skin as a cloak.

When called to war on Earth, the Devil Lords can really only hope the hunters answer to their summons, as the hunters do not always listen. They prefer the solitude of the wilds of hell, where they can ruminate upon its vile majesty, and consider the orders from the Princes of Hell as suggestions at best. When one can be persuaded to join the hunt of the Court on Earth, they can traverse the paths of No Man's Land just as easily as the wastes of Hell, for the ley lines of Hell are reflected upon the fallen Creation.