#scythe of sorrow

[catluniscia]

The Goblin Queen marked

Goblin Queen aka Madelyne Pryor, the genetic clone and then some of Jean Grey...comics are complex. She finally was shown in 97, and it's kinda cool to be honest. Wondering if the series goes on what she will be doing. Her character is interesting, and aparently in comics right now she has a Scythe called "The Scythe of Sorrows." And we know my weakness for a Scythe wielder with a dark aesthetic. You know when I wrote the blurb for the sketch for those who are subbed to my behind the scenes. (which I highly recommended if you wanna help support me as an artist) I mentioned I would do Green fire...uuuuh well I will be honest it has been a bit of time between sketch posting and finish product, like a few months cause I thought this would be a cool halloween month art. I did normal fire fire...and I am way too lazy to fix the fire. This was a pain to color and plan lighting and blah and To be honest I think it looks fine, and like maybe the fire changed or something, I don't know. Please enjoy this art.

[metalby]

Scythe of Sorrow [Raven's Cry of Despair]. 2023. Bandcamp, Spotify, Facebook, Amazon, Youtube. Twitter(metalone).

[surgeryie]

⠀ ི Lovesick（ ✙ ） NPTs．

Lovelace ﹐ Amorette ﹐ Anais ﹐ Valentin ﹐ Aillys ﹐ Coronet ﹐ Scylla ﹐ Ambrosia ﹐ Belladonna ﹐ Daffodil ﹐ Heartstrings ﹐ Vurity ﹐ Belladonna ﹐ Daffodil ﹐ Nymphe ﹐ Balvenie ﹐ Myrette ﹐ Axelie ﹐ Bloodibelle ﹐ Devoure

Heart ) Hearts ﹐ Love ) Loves ﹐ Sweet ) Sweets ﹐ Sin ) Sins ﹐ Trick ) Tricks ﹐ Bite ) Bites ﹐ Ax ) Axe ﹐ Bleed ) Bleeds ﹐ Gore ) Gores ﹐ Cu ) Cure ﹐ Scy ) Scythe

The Devoted Lover ﹐ Their Obsession ﹐ Their Sweet Sorrows ﹐ The Longing One ﹐ The Angel of Love ﹐ Their Beating Heart / Their Bleeding Heart

[phighterss]

Not the same anon who asked about ur opinion about periods BUT good FUCKING GOD THIS BITCHASS CRAPMS ARE FUCKING KILLING MEEEEE. May I request a short headcanons onhow teal trio deal with a reader who's dying. Ples. For my poor pitiful soul.

DYING???!!???! uhm as you wish 😭😭🙏🙏

scythe is devastated. she tries not to let her sorrow show but she is sure enough in the most pain she’s ever been. if it was somebody who did this to you, she’d waste no time making their death slow and painful— she’ll show them hell, a little piece of what you’re going through. if it’s something like a disease or illness she’d be at your side through it all. she wouldn’t leave you for the world.

medkit is just as miserable as scythe. he tried to maintain a calm composure but his sadness does leak through from time to time. he doesn’t want you to see him in a sorrowful state, similar like scythe. if it’s someone who caused this, he’d see it to it they die— he wants to be the one to kill them— not scythe, not the broker— him. if it was by a disease or illness, when I tell you he is determined to find a way to cure you— I mean determined. he’s a doctor and an ex-scientist— surely he’ll find a way. he won’t let you die like this. not in vain.

the broker may not show it through his whimsical facade but he’s really fucked up in the head. he would contribute to any way he can help you recover. he’s not necessarily good in the medical field and while he does fight well he doesn’t do it often— so he probably wouldn’t be of much use and that kind of eats him up inside a lot. but if it helps, he’ll stick by your side for the he entire time. wants you to feel happy and safe even if you’re dying. it’s the least he can do.

OK I GOT CARRIED AWAY THESE AINT SHORT BUT

[mytheoristavenue]

SE Spirit Albarn x Reader 🍋 - Love By The Hour

Kinktober 2024 - VI

Prostitution + Fully Clothed

Summary: You aren't making enough as a hostess at Chupa Cabra's so you decide to give your favorite customer a discreet treat in exchange for an extra hefty tip.

Warnings: Prostitution, protected sex, sub!Spirit, soft dom!Reader, fem!Reader, slight angst, soft sex, mentions of Kami/Maka, super fluffy ending, fully clothed, riding, intoxication

You sighed, leaning further on the bar. "Has it been this slow all day?" You complain to the bartender. He nodded in response, wiping down the countr. "Any reservations?" He shook his head. "Can I get my shift drink?"

"What do you want?" He sighed, rolling his eyes. You grinned, leaning over.

"You're the sweetest! Can I get..." You thought for a moment. "Sangria?" To your delight, he turned around and went to work. Beside you, Blair slid onto the barstool to your left.

"It's been so dead today..." She whined, leaning on your arm. "But at least I've gotten a few clients, you've been here for how long?"

"Three hours," You groaned. "And not a single one."

"Well," She smiled up at you. "You can have the next one, 'kay?"

You softened, taking your drink from the bartender. "Thanks, girl, you're the best."

"Besides, you never know. Your luck could change." She giggled, ear flicking as a mischevious grin cracked across her face. "Maka told me she got into another fight with her dad. You know what that means..."

"Death Scythe! Of course!" You laughed, the idea sparking your enthusiasm. "He always spends loads of money when he comes in!"

"And he always comes in after a fight with Maka." Blair adds with a giggle.

"What time is it?" You asked rhetorically, glancing at the wall clock. "Four thirty, school just let out. He's probably on his way right now!"

As if on cue, the doorbell chimed, signaling the entrance of a customer, interrupting the victorious fit of giggles you and your coworker were sharing. "Death Scythe!" You both cheered, hopping down from the barstool to greet him.

You couldn't help but notice how downtrodden he looked. It must have been a nasty spat, you realized, beginning to feel a bit bad for what you were about to do. "Hey, girls," He smiled softly, a stark contrast from the lovesick expression he usually wore.

"How's little Maka doing?" Blair asked, clinging to him affectionately. You frowned at her familiarity with him. He was your client, not hers. You quickly shook off the envy, hugging close to his arm, laying on the charm thick. But he hardly noticed.

"I was actually hoping to ask you the same thing." He confessed sheepishly, tucking a strand of rusty hair behind his ear. "She uh... won't talk to me."

You finally got the hint. He wasn't here to drown his sorrows in alcohol and attention for once. He simply wanted to talk to Blair since she lives with his daughter. Bitterly, you retracted yourself, sitting back down at the bar, pouting.

You idly listened to their chatter when suddenly, your colleague piped up with an idea. "Oh, I got it!" She chirped, looking over at you with a wink over her shoulder. "I'll go home and talk to Maka and see if she'll talk to me about it, then I can tell you how to make her feel better!" She suggested cheerily. "In the meantime, you can stay here and destress from such a hard day! That way, when you talk to Maka, you're all relaxed!"

He appeared to be considering it, replenishing your hope as you spied on the pair. Suddenly, sky-colored eyes flickered over to yours as he caught you staring. Your face flushed and you quickly shifted your gaze to your glass as you stirred the crimson liquid in it. "And my friend (Y/N) here is so excited to sit with you!" Blair beamed, leaning close to whisper in his ear. "Between you and me, I think she has a bit of a crush on you!"

With that, the deal was sealed and you didn't miss the tinge of pink on his cheeks. You quickly pulled him over to your cubical, taking his drink order. You made sure to catch Blair on her way out to thank her for being such a great friend when you went back to the bar.

When you brought his beer back, you couldn't help but notice how depressed he still looked, though he quickly hid his melancholy when you set the glass down in front of him, stepping over his legs to sit beside him. "Somethin' on your mind, Mr. Sycthe?" You cooed, laying your head on his shoulder.

He chuckled a bit at the name, sighing as he nervously fiddled with the end of his tie. You'd never seen a side of him that was timid, so you worried a bit that he didn't like you, and might request a different hostess. "You uh-" He swallowed dryly, peering up at you with a sheepish smile. "You don't have to call me Death Scythe, that's just my title at work." You blinked up at him. You knew at some level that, surely, he wasn't born with that name, but the fact that he had another one never actually crossed your mind. Blair had never called him by anything else, and you are relatively new to this club, so this was the first time you were serving him one on one.

"What would you prefer I call you?" You ask sweetly into his ear.

"Spirit," He answered with a small smile. "Spirit Albarn, that's my name."

"I love that name..." You soothed, tangling your fingers in his hair. "Spirit..." You repeated, and unbeknownst to you, it melted his insides the way his name sounded coming from your painted lips. "Well, Spirit, penny for your thoughts?"

He sighed, shivering a bight as you played with his flowy locks. "It's uh... my ex wife." He admitted with an exhausted sigh. "My daughter's birthday is next month and she was supposed to visit her but..."

"But...?" You pressed, leaning forward and grabbing his glass for him.

"She called me this morning and told me there's no way she'll make it. Too busy, she says." His words tugged at your heartstrings a bit.

"Maka's your daughter, right?" You ask, sympathetically. He hummed approvingly. "Well... I don't know anything about her or you or your ex but... from what Blair's told me, she's a wonderful little girl." You offered softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. "And if your ex's been absent for a while, then that means the person she is now is a product of your influence..."

Spirit's head hung low and his breathing hitched a few times, making you panic a bit. Your job was to make him feel better, not worse! "I-I'm sorry, I never have been the best at consoling people..." You stammer nervously. Suddenly, you froze when his hand dropped on your knee, soft and warm.

"No, no, you're so sweet, don't think that." He flashed you a sad smile and blinked away a few tears. "It's me, I'm just a mess."

"No, you're not..." You sighed, beginning to lose hope of making any money off him. But a part of you didn't mind, despite your rent recently increasing and being in dire need of the income. You could recognize when a human needed a human. "Nobody's perfect but, you love her, don't you?"

"More than anything," He answered in a somber laugh.

"And you take care of her? Keep her fed and housed, keep her as happy as she'll let you? You're there when she needs you?" You ask with a bit more fire than you meant to.

"Always," He confirmed again.

"Then that's all you can do." You smile reassuringly. "Teenage girls can be so complicated, she might have to decide for herself to come around but... I know she will with a father as amazing as you."

If he wasn't falling for you already, he definitely was now. Sweet, doting, passionate, not to mention gorgeous- how could he possibly resist? "Do you have kids?" He asked before he could stop himself.

You softened, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "No, but if I had a husband like you and a daughter like Maka, I'd never want for anything else." That wasn't entirely true. You were well aware of why he was in hot water, and you didn't blame his ex at all for filing for divorce. But business was business, and that was what he needed to hear at the time.

Finally, you had him wrapped around your finger, back to his silly, lovesick self, which relieved you a bit. Not only were you assured he liked you enough to stick with you as his hostess, but now you could clean him out without feeling guilty. Suddenly, a devious idea struck your mind. "Spirit, you're not a buy guy, you're just lonely, arent you?"

"Yeah..." He muttered, pulling you close, burying his face into your neck as the half a glass of beer he'd already had began to loosen him up.

"I don't usually offer this to my clients but..." You coo, petting his hair softly. "Blair was right, I do have a little crush on you..."

"What is it?" He asked and you smirked, knowing you had him on the hook. "Anything, I'll pay whatevcer."

"How would you like to..." You cup your hand around his ear, whispering conspiritorily as if sharing a secret.

"H-Here?!" He whisper-yelled back, obviously flustered, even more so when you simply smirked and nodded, pressing your finger to his lips.

"But we have to be discreet, we'll get in trouble if we're caught..." You teasingly batted your lashes. "Just tip me extra well, m'kay? So...?"

"Y-Yes!"

-----

"A-Are...you sure about this?" His breath fell out of his lips, heavy against the shell of your ear as you shifted in his lap, hiking up the skirt of your cocktail dress.

"You got cold feet?" You giggled as he rolled a condom onto his hard-on, hissing at the sensation of stroking it through the rubber.

"N-No," He murmured meekly, resting his hands on either side of him. "I want it so bad, it's been so long."

You softened a bit at his candidness, pulling your panties to the side, reaching between your legs to guide him in. You could feel him tense when you playfully rubbed his covered tip over your slick core before alligning him and sitting on hit fully.

"Oh shit..." He sighed against the back of your neck, forehead resting against your back. "So tight 'n warm..."

His pleased whispers made your stomach stir as you adjusted to him. He filled you perfectly, which you hadn't expected. "Mmm... baby, you feel so good..." You breathed, rolling your hips languidly in a way that made his heart skip a beat. You could feel his hands immediately grip your hips, stilling you.

"F-Fuck, not like that-" He begged, breath ragged in your hair. "I-I'll cum so fast, you don't even know..."

"That's the point, isn't it?" You giggled, prying his hands from your hips and guiding them upwards to your breasts. He gladly took the bait, groaning into your shoulder blade, pressing kisses to the bare skin there as he groped you needily. Despite his protests, you continued to lazily grind your hips into his not even allowing your thighs to leave his with how shallow you were going.

You'd never seen a man so deprived that he'd go so wild for anything less than a bounce, but here he was, coming undone beneath you with just the slightest friction. You couldn't wrap your head around it. But to him, there was a very specific reason.

You began to grow concerned when you felt his tears wet your spine. He was still slowly thrusting up into you, matching your subdued pace, so what could be the matter? "You okay back there?" You asked in a breathy whimper as his tip pressed into your cervix.

"Y-You feel just like my wife..." He sobbed lightly into your hair, brain fogged by alcohol, sorrow, and lust. His words made your blood run cold, especially when you noticed the lack of the prefix 'ex'.

"Oh, baby..." You softened, wondering if you should stop, but his insistent humping convinced you not to. You felt a bit cheap, being a stand-in for who he really wanted, but then again, you were using him for money, so you couldn't complain.

"F-Fucked her just like this that night..." He rasped, abandoning the distraction of playing with your breasts in favor of fully hugging you from behind, squeezing tightly. "T-The night she got pregnant."

That's when you finally understood. He was reenacting how his daughter was conceived- but with you instead of her mother. A part of you felt increadibly special to be the one to help him relive what must hae been such a wonderful moment, but another part of you felt uncomfortable for how emotionally invested he was in you, over a cash grab no less.

"P-Please cum for me, baby..." He begged, swallowing hard as he rocked into you with such care. "P-Please, I'll do anything..."

Without hesitation, you reached between your legs, digging your fingers into your tightly closed legs, rubbing tight, unsatisfactory circles on your clit. To your surprise, his feet separated your ankles, forcing them apart to give you more space. You dropped your head back against his shoulder, fingers moving more insistently as he took over thrusting into you solely.

With this arrangement, you both were doomed to finishing fast, your cubical full of heavy breaths and the sound of shifting fabric. "C'mon, please, please..." He pled, eyes squeezed shut, only opening them to let them roll back into his head.

"A-Ahh... Spirit, just like that..." There was his name again, sang so sweetly from the lips of an angel, he was certain.

"S-Say it again, say my name, please..." He begged, voice cracking with need. "Oh, fuck, I'm so close..."

"C-Cum with me, Spirit, please..." You wept so sweetly, beginning to climb to the summit.

As if on command, he finally gripped your hips, fucking into you with sloppy, shallow strokes, drunk on how his name dripped from your lips, coated in praise. You could feel his seed spurt into the condom, warming it against your gummy walls as you constricted him, finally capturing your own high. "S-Spirit, a-ahh! Y-Yes, cum with me, oh fuck..."

After catching your breath, you lifted off him, unceremoniously readjusting your soaked panties and shimmying your dress back down while he carefully slid the condom off, making sure not to spill its contents. He tucked himself back into his slacks, smiling lazily up at you as he rested for a moment, preparing to head out. You tossed the rubber in a small trashcan nearby, reminding yourself to throw out the back before anyone could find it later.

"Thank you..." He sighed, standing up and stepping over to you, affectionately stroking his thumb over your blushed cheek. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house," You sighed, knowing the decision could mean being late on your rent, but you were happy you could help soothe a man down on his luck.

"You're too sweet." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your other cheek. "Think I... could take you out sometime?"

"Sure," You replied with a playful smirk, not taking his offer seriously. He simply smiled peacefully and made his way up to the register to pay out.

Later that evening, after you'd cleaned your cubical, ensuring the evidence of your misdeeds was in the dumpster, you went to collect your tips for the day. Imagine your surprise when you were tipped out an amount that easily rivaled your weekly wage.

"I don't know what you did to that guy," Your manager laughed, handing you the cash from the drawer. "But I've never seen him spend that much. Must really like ya."

"M-Maybe," You smiled nervously, taking the money and hiding it in your purse, silently reminding yourself to call Spirit the next day. He just paid your rent, he deserved a date, at least.

-----

"Honey, did you stop by the store?" You called from the kitchen, removing your wedding room and setting it on the window sill to wash the dishes.

"You know it, pretty mama." Spirit flirted, grocery bag in hand as he hugged you from behind, pinning you to the sink. You rolled your eyes at his antics, breaking away to check the roast in the oven.

"Now you behave. " You warned, taking the bag from him. "Maka and Soul will be over any minute and-" As if to punctuate your statement, the doorbell rang and he waltzed over to answer it. Immediately, Spirit began fawning over his daughter as she stepped through the door, rolling her eyes at his attention.

You couldn't help but melt at the sight, feeling your heart swell at the little family you'd procured. In five short years, you'd gone from working as an entertainer in a scummy club, struggling to keep your head above water, to being the pampered housewife of one of the strongest demon weapons of the present day. You suddenly had a beautiful, intelligent, fiery daughter who adored you as much as she did her biological mother and a very sweet soon-to-be son-in-law who treated her like royalty.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, prompting the father-daughter duo to stop bickering, to check on you. Even Soul glanced up at you from the couch where he'd planted himself immediately after entering, concern written in his crimson eyes. However, what really choked you up was when Maka stepped closer, her big green eyes shining with worry as she asked an unnecessary question. You couldn't wait to reassure her that you were just fine.

"You okay, momma?"

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Nerull, The One Who Sorts The Bones

It's said they found the god in the old tombs, in that forgotten quiet where long eras had worn away all the epitaphs. They drew in a breath of the still air and on their exhalation the god took flight into the world on vulture's wings. -The Silent Testimonies, book 1

A god not of death, but of the dead, Nerull presides those aspects of the mortal coil that lay beyond the Raven Queen's domain of mourning and memory. Someone must keep vigil for the departed long after their names have passed from the memories of the living, and so that duty falls to Nerull, who's chosen people are the spirits that have lingered in the world far longer than they were ever alive.

Beyond the dead, the vulture’s faithful are an eclectic lot. Itinerant gravetenders, scholars of forgotten tongues, Bonesetters who's experience with embalming helps them minister to the living.  To Serve Nerull you must first die, though this is often symbolic.

Unlike his fellow carrion-bird death god, Nerull's following does not frown on the use of necromancy, or the existance of undead. Ghost stories, whether vengeful or sorrowful are considered holy for the way their memory transcends time. The exception to this reverence of course are those trapped in suffering, and the "hungry" dead who feed on the living. Pain and want are after all the purview of life, and Nerull dispatches hunters and psychopomps to ease such spirits along their way.

Adventure Hooks:

While out on their travels the party encounters a procession of grey pilgrims, masked and shrouded, all silent save for the leader of their procession who carries a staff jingling with bells and welcomes the party to sit by his fire. He tells tale of conflicts across the realm, new and old, shared with her by her flock, and invites the party to walk along with them the next day if they wish to see something splendid. Should the party agree to such unsettling company they will walk until sunset when they come to a hillside dotted with loose stones, where one by one the pigrims will walk out and begin constructing their own cairns. The procession leader will thank them for their observance, not many are so kind to the unnamed dead, and will reward them with answers to five questions before departing on pallid wings.

After inexplicably befriending one of Nerull's agents (and possibly his daughter?) during one of their adventures, the party are liable to be put out when they don't see their favourite psychopomp for a while. Queue sightings of a foreboding spectre that's knocking one by one on the doors of the city at night, sending people into a panic. Imagine their surprise when it turns out this wraith has a message for them... their favourite omen of doom has been kidnapped by a necromancer and her boss (dad?) wants them to get her back.

The Vulture's work is never done, and this time he's decided to enlist the heroes for aid. Perhaps there's an undead spirit that needs to be quieted, perhaps there's something sinister at work in a ruin once consecrated in his name, perhaps it's just making sure they clean up after themselves after their latest stint of tombrobbing. Regardless, Nerull can offer the heroes something far beyond coin... closure with the dead, ensuring visitation with a loved one for some much needed closure.

Titles: The Vulture, The Bonesorter, Dead Ned, the weary reaper, the vagabond end.

Signs: Plants too dry to rot, the voices of the departed carried on the wind, skeletons rearranged into trees or gardens.

Symbols: A scythe or sickle entwined with flowers.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #3

(I'm feeling kinda angsty today, I guess. If there's a fic/prompt like this already tho, please link me. 👀)

next →

✦

Reaper of Heroes

Once crowned as the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, Danny gains some grim reaper-like abilities and dominion over a specific subset of souls.

Heroes.

People who don masks and capes to protect the innocent from those who would harm them, just like he once did in the beginning of his existence as a halfa. He's was horrified by the responsibility but is eventually resigned to it. Due to bittersweet nostalgia, he quickly grows fond of the heroes that rose up after he took the throne and packed away the suit. Responsible he may be for the collection of their souls, but with council from Clockwork and the Ghost of Time's knowledge of the most desired paths, sometimes he'll just... let a soul slip through his fingers and return to it's vessel before it's chain is completely severed. He doesn't care that the observants complain constantly about those particular actions. If there's still room for a soul to do good for the better of everyone else, they can hardly stop him from straying from their plans. Much less with him as their king and protection as his obsession.

Only he is responsible for the reaping of these specific souls, unless delegated to one of the more common reapers at his command of course. Sometimes he follows his favorite heroes around, invisible to them unless he wishes them to see him or they're very close to death's door. He's trailed them so closely that some heroes have reported seeing a kind but sad looking man with white hair and aurora green eyes when they've nearly been pushed past the limits of their mortal bodies.

Ones who have passed through the veil but came back report vague memories of a similar sort; a kind man who cradled the very essence of their being with hands so gentle it's worth a few awe filled tears once he released them back amongst the living. The JL give him the moniker Grim, for his black and white coloring and for the shadowy scythe he carries not as a weapon but more like a key that unlocks the chain that binds them to their flesh. He never speaks to any of the heroes he interacts with tho. Always silent with a calculating, but sorrowful gaze.

At least until now.

When he appears before a bruised and beaten, young Jason Todd with whisper soft words in his ear as he comforted the concussed boy about to be killed in a fiery inferno at the hands of Gotham's mad clown.

As the explosion comes to a close, an unseen figure cradles the star-like light of a soul close to his chest as he wept and apologized for being unable to save the young soul from such a painful end but was thankful the poor boy this light belonged to could feel it no longer.

✦

What do you think? Angsty enough? I might have a little more to add to this but I'm gonna stop for now. I injured my hand yesterday, so it hurts to type for too long.

[joemama-2]

when death loves, death loves hard. death loves beautifully. death loves dearly. but death loves horribly.

death doesn’t deserve love, is what most people think. why would that be the case? death is everyone’s fear, it haunts and follows you until your last breath and last blink. they call it the Grim Reaper.

such a nasty name for something so beautiful, is what suguru thinks. suguru thinks he’s seen death before, he has honestly. has come face to face with death. but the death right in front of him, with a pretty smile on her face and sunlight highlighting every gorgeous detail, suguru begins to think that this is really death, the Grim Reaper.

and what’s worse? you don’t even realize it. suguru is a smart, perceptive man. he can see a sheep in wolf’s clothing. or a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

it’s bad, he knows. getting close to death when in the end, it’ll be him next. but he thinks he gets small peeks at what his demise is like, when he finally will be reaped, when he sees you interacting with people other than him. other men touching you, you touching them back. your smiles sent their way instead of his.

yeah, this is death.

you use, steal, lie. he does too. it’s a continuous cycle. one that will never end, he assumes. but for some reason, he likes it. he almost craves it as much as he craves you.

loving death is horrifying. but death loving him is even more.

because is death loves him, why does death hurt him? oh right, because you’re death. and death only wants one thing in the end.

suguru blindly follows what you tell him to do. it’s a complete contrast to how he treats his cult members. but death can change anyone and everyone.

he’s your scythe, and for that, he’ll always cherish you. because death does not just allow anyone to be hers.

he can hear your whispers in his ear, guiding his hand to swallow whatever curse, mutilate any body. yet all he can think in that moment is how good you feel against him. how your warm, soft skin pleases him and makes him smile.

when you tuck his hair eyes from his eyes, when you brush your thumbs across his cheeks, when you kiss him softly. everything. he embraces it, welcomes it because if he doesn’t he’ll be casted down to hell. at least, that’s what he thinks.

who loves death? only people who crave it, wishing that they’re next.

but that’s what you do, isn’t it? collect souls on their last day, when they’ve accepted defeat and when they’re ready to move on from this horrid life.

suguru has been waiting for that day for years now.

when it finally comes, he’s happy. he’s relieved, he’s freed.

and because suguru loves death so much, he tears up in delight as your figure stands before him before kneeling down. you brush hair away from his eyes like always and kiss his lips.

he knows it’s time go. and you know it’s time to take him.

“i’m ready.” he whispers against your lips, voice hoarse from blood loss.

and you just nod, smiling like an angel. when you’re anything but.

“i’ve been waiting.”

your hand lingers on his chest and there’s a foreign sensation that runs through him. like he’s being sucked away, his soul being torn from his body and dragged to who knows where.

it doesn’t hurt, instead it feels wonderful. it’s freshening. his last thoughts are “finally.”

the ending sight he sees is his best friend crouched down to his left, once bright eyes full of sorrow and longing.

[raisunomii]

today, garroth ro'meave.

[a drabble preceding garroth faking his death, as i see it.]

The castle is silent. The castle has been silent since Garte left. Garroth didn't ask where he was going. He didn't care, as long as the shouting stopped.

The silence screeches like a wyvern.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 5 A.M.

It's cold, Garroth thinks the moment his eyes snap open. He's always been an early riser. His feet against the cool stone-brick that comprises his bedroom floor is familiar, but is never welcome. He makes his way across the room regardless, stumbling to the bathroom. He strikes a match, his oil lamp lighting seconds later.

Stubble is the enemy.

He drops his blade on the sink when he's finished.

Sometimes Garroth wakes before the servants. Today, however, is not one of those days. The halls are as lively as ever- that is to say, stray whispers echo through the walls, but one can never be sure if they come from the wind or some creature.

And his mother has never been one to talk to herself.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 6 A.M.

"Mother," Garroth says, maintaining his distance. "Did you sleep well?"

Zianna does not face him. She hasn't seen him, these past few weeks, not for lack of physical closeness. Garroth is sure the cityscape is a more favorable view than him. The sunrise is always beautiful.

He takes a few steps forward and guides his mother away from the window.

"Back to bed," he whispers, but he's sure she hasn't slept. He ignores the purple mottling her left cheekbone. Dad's gone now.

Breakfast is hearty.

THE TRAINING GROUNDS AT O'KHASIS, O'KHASIS, 8 A.M.

Slash, parry, pass. Slash, parry, pass. Again. Slash, parry, and if he's lucky, he won't think of Nicole.

Garroth can't remember the last time Irene favored him with 'luck'. His brother's always had that honor.

"Brother."

And he shall appear.

Garroth sheaths his blade. Zane is in full attire, Garroth notes. Wonder who he killed today. Must've been clean- his robes are still white.

"Well? Speak if you will," Garroth instructs, jutting up his chin for a mere second. Zane's gaze is full of disgust. Another day.

"A letter from Scaleswind found its way to my hands," Zane pauses to take in Garroth's expression, carefully taking in the slightest twitch of his brother's brow. "Nicole is set to come in a week."

Garroth nods. "I look forward to it."

He turns back to his craft, hoping Zane will leave, or at the least, be mindful enough not to stab him in the back. Slash-

"Mother slept the night," Zane says, "or at least some of it."

"I sent her to bed this morning." Parry. He can feel Zane's spirits drop. Pass.

Zane's boots crackle against the dirt as he leaves.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 6 P.M.

Gnawing hunger is quickly welcomed once one realizes it keeps the mind off of unwanted betrothal. This is why Garroth has delayed dinner to stew in his own sorrow. Quite literally- the bath is much too hot today. What were the servants thinking?

His skin is red. Lady Irene.

The doorknob to the bath jiggles and Garroth has to fight back a groan.

"Bathing!" He shouts, though it doesn't make a difference, because the door swings open anyways. "Must you harass me while I'm in the tub?"

"I find you're less prone to fits of silence like this," Vylad says smoothly, dragging up a chair to the side of the tub. "Odd. Should I be cornered in a bath tub, I may refuse to speak at all."

Vylad is met with an eye roll. This does not deter him. He prattles on for about twenty minutes until Garroth demands he leave, at which point he wanders to the dining room to wait for Garroth to get dressed for a shared dinner.

Vylad often forgets to eat.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 2 A.M.

Slowly and quickly does he in patterns scurry, as a mouse avoiding a scythe during harvest. His boots make soft noises on the brick which thunder in the silence of the O'Khasis morning. Moreso, in the temporary silence of the Ro'Meave Residence.

His bag is heavy and his sword clatters with movement. Every noise is detriment.

"Garroth?"

He whips around.

"Mother," Garroth says, standing what may be miles from Zianna, but he's sure is only a few meters. Their eyes do not meet, but he sees confusion all the same.

"What are you doing? It's late, too late for you to..." Mother trails off, making way for more screaming, intolerable silence.

It is the first time they've spoke in weeks.

"Training. Early morning training."

He can see his mother force back a scoff, because for all her despair, she's never been daft. Garroth knows that she doesn't have the energy to deal with his antics at the moment. She knows this as well, and sighs, turning away.

"Be safe," she calls.

"I will!"

[non-binaryweirdo69]

(SIDESTORIES/DRAWING IDEAS): The villain series By @scythe-the-problematic-audio

Only the beginning

(WARNING SENSITIVE TOPICS)

So After V left Cheeky with L and Wilder Cheeky is heartbroken and genuinely crying herself to sleep. Feeling she was never good enough and that she's always used no matter what she does, she feels like she's nothing but something to use and get rid of. So she goes into deep depression and has trust issues, she drinks to get rid of the pain but it just doesn't go away even when intoxicated which leds to SH on her wrists and thighs. This whole time L and Wilder didn't know what Cheeky was doing to herself but they watched as her smile faded away and she rarely came out of her room, locking herself inside of it and not coming out unless it's for alcohol or food, they couldn't do anything about it and it was scaring them. One day Cheeky was doing the usual, Crying after SH and telling her intoxicated self she deserved it until she saw a shadowy figure in the corner of her room, slowly looking up at her, as a red eye stared back at her. In a heartbreaking tone she says "if you want to end my life do it now.. the world would be so much better without the pathetic excuse of a woman I am." The only sound was her weeping in the dark room until a deadly, familiar voice spoke up "Wipe Your tears little light" she froze staring at the figure as it walked closer towards her, It was none other than the Monster, the embodiment of evil, The Atrocity. Pure rage filled Cheeky "What do you want you monster!? I have nothing left to give! If you want V find him on your own because he doesn't bother with me anymore." She yelled. Atrocity didn't reply he simply stood there grinning. "Why are you even here!? You're supposed to be dead, you were the only reason why he was with me! So thank you, thank you for shattering my blind love, my delusion and showing me why he kept me around..." She said as tears rolled down her cheeks.…"do you even know how painful it is to have someone you genuinely loved betray you!? To love someone just to find out you were a toy ,a game to them, something to use! HUH DO YOU!?"she said clinching her chest where her heart was. Atrocity's grin faded hearing these words... Seeing her like this reminded him of his past. He walked over to her kneeling down different level as she sat on the floor, he wiped her tears, still with a unsettling look on his face.. she looked at him shocked confused, wondering why he do something like this, this isn't like him. "Shedding tears and wasting energy on sorrow isn't going to fix anything" Atrocity said in a stern tone.

Cheeky didn't know how to respond but to have someone with her in this moment in time overwhelmed her heart and she hugged him. Atrocity expecting this ,didn't hug her back but rubbed her back slightly as she cried into his shoulder..

"You aren't here because you want something from me are you?"

Cheeky asked through the tears. "I enjoy sorrow but I am more than kicking you off your feet when you're already down, little light" with that Cheeky continued to cry into his shoulder.

[lesoldatmort]

Among gardens of sorrow limned by pale light Death’s shroud flutters, hand grasping a scythe of bone-white In cemeteries overgrown Or crosses made of stone Not a single soul will be spared from Death’s might

| OVERGROWN CEMETERY | Drawtober day 1-5 

Happy October, I hope you'll enjoy my series of illustration this year as well!

💀 PATREON | Instagram | Twitter | Prints

[askruimizuki]

The bar is open.

Tell me your sorrows while I pour you a drink.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Unsure of what to ask?

Here’s a small list of ranked things you could consider sending in to ask Rui. They will be categorized based off of levels of comfort Rui must have with you before he considers answering topics. If something isn’t listed, feel free to ask but consider where it may fit in the ranking below.

Please note, these are general guidelines and you can ask other things that aren’t on this list. They may just fall into a category of ‘need to be closer’ before he’ll consider answering them.

♥︎ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

These are topics that Rui would be willing to answer if anyone asked him. So long as it’s not wildly inappropriate. He may joke or deflect at this stage.

♰ Mixology

He runs a bar and, while it’s alcohol free, that doesn’t mean Rui lacks knowledge concerning mixology and fun party tricks.

♰ Gardening

Taking care of anomalous plants, Rui has learned a thing or two about their care and what best works for different plants.

♰ Cleaning

Having cleaned up after Ed and Lyca, Rui is a bit of a housekeeper and has a few good cleaning tricks up his sleeves.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♡ ♡ ♡

At this point, Rui recognizes you and is willing to go a bit more in depth about his own personal interests or hobbies he may have picked up. He might even open up a bit about some of his minor worries such as Ed’s sock mountain.

♰ Housemates

Rui cares for his housemates but has a few gripes about them. Feel free to ask him what living with the other two Obscuary members is like.

♰ Passing Time

Unable to sleep, Rui may have picked up many hobbies and interests. He’ll be more open to chat about these things if asked.

♰ Dating

Rui considers himself quite the romantic so he may have a thing or two to share about dating and any tips involving it.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡ ♡

By now, Rui would consider you a friend. He may open up a bit more about his thoughts and feelings on more in-depth topics.

♰ Artifact

He’ll happily share information regarding his artifact at this point in time. Whether it be about how he obtained it or his thoughts and feelings on it being a scythe.

♰ Stigma

Rui will talk a bit more about his stigma and how he feels about it now versus how he felt about it when he first got it.

♰ Other Houses

He will share more information on how he feels towards other houses at this point in time. He won’t go too into detail. But he’ll openly talk about them with you, now.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡

You’re a regular occurrence in Rui’s life. Which is rare. Congrats! He considers you close friends and will share his thoughts on heavier topics.

♰ Former House

Rui will talk to you about his former house assignment and life there before his move to Obscuary.

♰ His Curse

He’s aware most people already know about his curse. Now, he’ll talk to you about how he personally feels about his curse or how he wound up with it. If you’re willing to listen to his woes, that is.

♰ His Pact Wish

Rui will feel more comfortable with answering any questions you may have about his own pact he made with his demon.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

If you’ve made it this far, it means Rui trusts you enough to tell you his inner most thoughts. Don’t take this for granted. He’s a very private individual who keeps his personal struggles to himself. Now, he’s willing to spill them with you.

♰ Death

Rui has a very complicated relationship with death and what it means to him, at this point in his life. It’s only a topic he’ll talk with others if he feels he can absolutely trust them.

♰ Darkwick

Being quite restricted is not lost on Rui. His personal thoughts of Darkwick and how they handle non-humans is something he will only confide in those he feels won’t betray his trusts.

♰ Loss of Humanity

A bit different on his curse, Rui will confide in the way his life has changed since he was cursed. How it affects him. And his deeper thoughts on the matter.

Things not to ask

Asks that involve life-ending touches will not be tolerated by Rui. This is a sensitive subject for him and one he simply just doesn’t talk much about.

NSFW

Under cut

Rui will answer NSFW questions involving how his sex life was pre-curse versus now. All of these questions will be 3 or more hearts.

[gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

Dagda Crom Cruach headcanons(REMADE)

HCS BELOW!!

Headcanon Voice: Edgar the Computer (Electric Dreams) (Skip to 9:15)

Age: 152 (76 years old in human years, mentally in his thirties)

Any Prns, he Usually uses he/him, but anything is good

-Dagda is an accidental muse. When Agriculture began to pop off in the 1800s, Dagda Crom Cruach was born as the physical embodiment of the sorrows and fears the average farmer has. Farmers nationwide have reports of experiencing nightmares about a weird scarecrow doing unruly acts at their barnhouses—such as eating and killing crops, and livestock. What’s worse? It’s always déjà rêvé. Implying that Dagda has some sort of connection to the real world as well, being able to simulate damages in both the dream, and real world.

-and by “accidental”…Way back in 1908, when the Astral Circle was still fresh out the oven, Zoth and Chaugnar had a little mishap while attempting to summon a powerful, outer god (at Yan Luo’s order) and ended up summoning. This little jackass scarecrow with little to no idea what’s going on. They couldn’t exile him due to his erratic, and oddly helpful nature. They just gave up, and decided to keep him around, given how they needed a few extra helping hands around the circle.

-Shortest Nightmare of the batch, standing tall at exactly 4’5. (134cm). He weighs around 30-50 ibs, making him slightly heavier than the average Scarecrow.

-Basically the contrary to his human counterpart (Alf); Loud, energetic, cheerful, hyper, insufferable, reckless. And probably a psychopath to put salt on the wound.

-He only ever gets serious when something really bad happens. It’s a considerably worse sight to behold than his usual shenanigans.

-Dagda wields a comically large Scythe as a weapon. He doesn’t carry it around willy nilly, but rather only uses it either during his work as a soul scarecrow, to make himself appear more threatening to the spirits—in the human realm, to “harvest” (steal) crops and livestock from the real world—or for actual combat, which. DAMNNN! The scythe is twice his size, mind you, and is probably heavy as hell…take what you will from that alone.

-When not roaming around and terrorizing farmers in the mortal world, he scares off stray souls that trespass in the Nightmare Realm…It’s not very affective as a job, in comparison to everyone else in the Astral Circle, but it’s something!

-Has only a stick holding him up, and is connected to his body VIA rope. acting as a singular wooden leg that he uses to hop around. The rope used to tie him onto the stick has an extended end, which can move on its own, acting as a tail. It wags when he’s excited.

-He has many pet crows! But they aren’t allowed in the astral circle for…many reasons. Mainly pertaining to incidents regarding said crows, and his colleagues. (Specifically Xezbet, Ishtar, Shub, and Izanami.)

-Speaking of him and Izanami Yomi: Izanami, after moving in (est. 1949) didn’t acknowledge Dagda’s existence until around a week later, during said week, she simply assumed Dagda was a doll of sorts, and would just keep him around with other dolls that she had (i hc her to be a doll collector, outside of her job as a face deformer). Many complaints were filed the day she discovered that her new ‘ragdoll’ was sentient, real nightmare.

-(inspired by @core-bagg‘s hc), Dagda is the “punching bag” or “stress doll” of the Astral Circle, As painful and burdening as it sounds, Dagda really doesn’t care. In fact, he actually enjoys it quite a bit. He has a rather abnormal reaction to Pain, which causes him to crave it rather than the inverse (cough cough masochist cough). Examples are, but not limited to:

Abducius, Barbatos, and Exael will occasionally use him as a sort of “test dummy/target” for their weaponry and such before actually utilizing it in their respective works. They always remember to stitch him back up together afterwards…

In terms of his relationship with the Nightmare Clown, he lost against him in every single one of their games together, and considering what he does to his victims…(minus the eating part obv)…yep. You can tell Dagda likes him a lot.

Izanami CAN AND COULD use Dagda as a sort of mannequin to practice her deforming skills on…but she doesn’t have the guts to, considering his odd resemblance to one of her favorite things. (dolls), she still hasn’t gotten over it.

Same goes for Teutates, but it’s a no-go for both parties. Teutates finds the fact that Dagda’s just rags and stuffing boring, and wants to focus on annihilating more organic things, and Dagda—despite being a sucker for pain—doesn’t want TOO many of his seams torn..

-His body can generate heat, as well as, without any assistance, catch on fire. This headcanon is based on the tradition of setting Scarecrows on fire to banish ill fortune. He’d do this to either garner attention, or scare off even more souls.

-Pertaining to the last headcanon, Dagda is also a Pyromaniac. He nearly made the Astral Circle go skadoosh because he snuck in during a ritual and started fucking around with candles n stuff. This is why Zoth and Chaugnar don’t like him.

-Arsonist behavior and all aside, in terms of his body generating heat, he ignites a medium-sized, non-spreading fire inside of him, specifically in his stomach area, which heats his body up. He does this a lot during the winter/cold days in the Astral Realm. He lets those without heat snuggle up to him. He’s just a doll <3 (this doesn’t burn or damage him in any way)

-Dagda’s innards are a blend between cotton (the type used in plushies specifically), hay/straw (same material used for scarecrows, obviously), and ash.

-His diet consists of raw Vegetables and meat. Specifically fresh, and stolen out from farms. His favorite foods are Candy Apples and Donuts, which he constantly gets told off by other Nightmares for eating. Is stealing these sweets risky? Yes. Does he care? No. Yan Luo does + will probably smack him upside the head for it, but he could give any less of a damn.

-Considering his “diet”, many are left wondering: ‘how does he digest food?’ And it’s simple. With the fact he can set moderate, non-damaging fires off inside of his body, he simply burns everything he ate inside of him, like a little cremation device, until it’s nothing but ash. The remaining ash just stays there until it’s able to be used once more.

-He doesn’t have any vital organs, other than lungs. These aren’t affected by his internal fireplace, and are basically just. There. For some reason. (I needed to make an excuse for the “breathing” in his idle animation)

-Dagda also takes orders/does chores for Yan Luo aside from his assigned duties; such as doing errands, gathering materials and whatnot. He doesn’t get assigned them too much considering how easily he gets distracted, and will probably go fuck off and do something else if he gets bored/sees something else to do.

-May or may not be related to Orcus, possibly a cousin, or long lost brother. Neither parties have realized this, but it’s definitely been the topic of discussion in the Astral Circle.

-Semi-nocturnal + usually goes to sleep @ what would be around 12PM, and usually wakes up at like. 7PM or an hour earlier. When he sleeps, he goes limp, and his eyes basically go hollow, causing him to look like a corpse, or a doll. He’d either sleep slumped over on the floor, or standing up, in Scarecrow position. He’s a deep sleeper.

-Has a strange obsession with Anthropology, and the concept of Mortality, and how the Mortals (Real world people/humans) go on about their day, their lives, motives, their mere existence thrills him, in an almost sick way—Considering his job being to deal with the damned souls of said mortals. He’d sometimes even smuggle in some souls just to interrogate them on their past lives as humans, just for some sick kicks.

-Met his human counterpart, Alf Cappuccin, once in a dream. He Tormented him + made him super late for a court hearing (and probably also made him have an identity crisis). He leaves little signs and objects around for Alf and his wife to see, just to fuck with them a bit from time to time.

-Dagda can communicate with dolls and toys, considering he…technically is one, to some degree… (he has long, extensive, vulgar arguments with the other mfs in Izanami’s doll collection. The Beef goes insane)

-His relationship with a certain Neighbor (Xezbet) Isn’t too good…Considering how his job as a Soul Scarecrow was meant to drive Souls away….and how Xezbet, a Soul Eater, eats souls…it ends up having the Souls get away, and Xezbet to get angry that Dagda let his lunch go to waste…they’ll probably warm up to eachother somehow…probably…

-Dagda has met Henry before. He bit his finger and gave him Formidophobia :[

-An absolute sucker for physical affection. Despite being a Scarecrow—something made to stand around senselessly with no purpose other than to be feared, He longs touch, any kind. Praise? Belittlement? Doesn’t matter. He’s like a lovesick puppy. Mindlessly devoting himself to anything and anyone who even slightly thinks higher (or lower, he doesn’t care) of him.

-The rope slung around his shoulders/neck area can be used for many things, It can…

be adjusted and worn like a tie (formally), he’d probably do this to mock humans and their fashion.

He can take it off and use it as a lasso (rarely) to catch things…he probably learned this from eavesdropping on farmers worldwide, during his time on the mortal realm

he can tighten it up and use it as a harness to hang and spy from above, except whenever he does do this, he looks like a sagging corpse. Not a very pleasant sight.

…a leash. Mhm. I’ll leave you at that.

-Regarding the Tie, Leash and “Harness” parts. Yes, this does suffocate and hurt him. Does he care? No. Does this pain stop him from doing this? Absolutely not. Lil bro does not care, worse has happened to him

[roseg96]

“ May your travels be swift as a scythe cuts through the grass!

May your sorrows be counted and numbered as many as drops of wine and vodka that stay in my glass!”

-the abduction, Natasha, Pierre and the great comet of 1812

[bridgyrose]

Nuts and Dolts Week: Day 7

Ruby clutched the piece of Floating Array she had kept from the fall of Beacon, the sword still felt foreign in her hands. She had spent weeks practicing with it as another option for close combat since she still wasnt all that great unarmed. But at least using the sword was going to be another option. 

“Are you ready?” Jaune asked as he held his sword and shield up. “You know I’m not going to go easy on you.” 

“I am,” Ruby said as her fingers trembled. “I have to be.” 

“Then your training starts now!” 

Ruby stepped back as she blocked Jaune’s strike, not expecting the power that came from it. Her arms trembled as she made her own strike against him, hitting his shield as he blocked. The sword vibrated in her grip as she took a few more steps back. It was still different from fighting with her scythe, Floating Array vibrated differently, built to be used remotely and not by hand. Still, she looked over Jaune and rushed behind him with her semblance to strike his back. 

Her blade was once again met with Jaune’s shield, and then a strike from his blade against her. She struck back over and over only to feel Jaune’s shield against her blade and then a strike of his own hitting her over and over again until her aura broke. Her legs finally gave out as she dropped to the ground panting. She looked up at him as he held a hand out to her. 

“Are you sure you’re still okay?” Jaune asked. “You still seemed distracted.” 

“I’m fine,” Ruby said as she took his hand. “I just need to practice.” 

Jaune shook his head. “I’ve seen when you’re fine. This… this isnt fine.” 

Ruby sighed and looked at the blade of Floating Array, swearing she saw Penny’s face in her reflection. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gripped the hilt again, voice cracking as she spoke. “I… I have… I have to be ready to get my answers. I need to know why our friends had to die, why Penny had to be killed like that.” 

“And you’ll get those answers when we head off. You’re still recovering, Yang still needs you-” 

“What about what I need?” Ruby half yelled at him. She took a breath and wiped away her tears as she held Floating Array up. “I’m ready again.” 

“Your aura-” 

“I’ll be fine. Please, I need to be ready. This is all I have left of Penny and I need to make sure I can use it when I can’t use my scythe.” 

Jaune sighed and raised his own sword and shield. “Alright, but if I draw blood, we’re done.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ruby stared at the melted blade in her hands, her breathing starting to feel panicked. Everything on the bridge had gone wrong, Cinder had melted the only piece of Floating Array she had been allowed to keep as a wish from Penny, as an offering of her love. And now, it was damaged beyond repair and she still wasnt sure if Penny had survived.

“Ruby!” Weiss called out. “There you are!” 

Ruby quickly sheathed her melted blade and looked over at Weiss, surprised to see her. “Weiss. What are you doing here?” 

“I fell too. Just like you did.” 

“And… and Penny?” 

Weiss looked away. “Let's find Yang and Blake first.” 

Ruby felt her heart stop when she saw the look Weiss tried to hide, the sorrow in her eyes and the crack in her voice as she spoke. It was the silent answer that gave her enough of an answer about Penny’s fate, once again losing the woman she tried to save, the woman that she vowed to keep alive no matter what. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the last reminder she had, wrapping them around the hilt. “She… she died, didnt she?” 

Weiss stopped in her tracks, pausing before she spoke. “I-I’m sorry Ruby. Jaune tried to save her, but Cinder… we really should find Yang and Blake first. I dont want to explain this more than once.” 

“We did everything right,” Ruby said through a few tears. “We used the scepter to save her, gave her soul a new body, made sure she would live… and I still couldnt save her!” 

“And it wasnt enough this time-” 

“She has to be alive! She has to be here!” 

“Wait Ruby-” Ruby rushed off deeper into the forest of the Ever After, her semblance carrying her as far as she could go. The scars on her arms burned as she pushed herself to use every last drop of aura she had, finally dropping out of her semblance and crashing on the ground. Her eyes widened as she watched what remained of Floating Array drop into the water in front of her, sinking until it was out of sight. Her body went limp as she lost the strength to keep going. Beyond her memory, Penny was gone. Forever. 

[oceanlipgloss]

HALLMARK

ANDREALPHUS.

+ warnings: angst, mentions of blood.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

Spoils of war are of endless incarnations. So much violence, so many forms. Like white feathers soaked in crimson, for instance.

Some wounds always throbbed, bled and wept—raw forever, impossible to forget. Plasters or bandages aren't the only way to silence them for a minute. Sometimes, a kind hand makes for a proper disinfectant. Light and temporary, yet ever so tangible.

Old scars and white feathers, fresh blood and a soiled halo—those are his hallmark. They are the souvenirs of pain and death. They are the vengeance that holds his destiny and drips with the weight of tragedy, red and ugly. They are the invisible photographs of a black past.

It is said that change leaves no existence untouched; it caresses the sun, the moon, the stars; it strokes the brain, the soul, the heart. It aims for the universe and paints the sky.

A truth, or a lie?

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

What a cruel lie. How could it ever be perfectly true when some things never change—never different, eternally the same?

Like his sorrow, like his pain.

Love is not a healer. Care is not an ointment. They may make things better, but never for forever.

Right, or wrong?

Right.

Right.

Right.

If change has such a generous touch that reaches all, however, could it not let delicate hands alter his hallmark, just for now, just this once?

Burgundy smeared the halo in her hand. Haloes are a craft of paradise, but where was the heaven in all this sorrow? The halo itself was dainty, but it was burdensome to hold, massive with the weight of the past as it was. Heavy.

His body was warm and his lap was soft, but there was something cold and hard in his heart.

Devils don't have white wings, but the symbol of angelic flight burdened his back.

Blood dyed the feathers between her fingers. One after one she removed them, one by one they fell off his hair and sunk to the floor. Marred wings dropped to the ground like lifeless souls.

New beginnings might be real, but they may as well also be a myth. They depend on one's heart. They take time to come true. Grand things begin very small—tiny step after the next.

New beginnings might not last, but that may very well be alright. Perfection isn't summoned by the first try.

Soft waves was his hair under her fingertips. The braid was broken now. She was weaving it anew.

A little change.

There was nothing to see either way, so he closed his eyes. Serenity ghosted its palm over his lids for the first time in a very long while.

A few seconds of peace, foreign and quaint.

Why did she touch him like he was made of glass? She was the fragile one.

But...perhaps he was, too, sometimes. On the inside. His wounds were still fresh with hot blood and oozing pain.

He felt an unfamiliar rubber band constrict his braid.

Maybe, just maybe, he could cherish the tranquility of this night—but it doesn't really matter if the trophies of revenge lay on the ground at the moment.

After all, the past never once only took the form of defiled hearts, crimson feathers and dripping haloes. A dead angel's glowing scythe can't rip apart the bodies of despair and bloodlust.

And so, tomorrow the past will seal his heart again. It will turn him into a vicious hunter again. Because...some wounds are never meant to heal; they are fated to forever throb, bleed and weep.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨