#shifting to aurora cycle

[morningstar-chronicles]

rules - aurora cycle DR

i can't die prematurely

my loved ones can't die prematurely

no one ever gets seriously sick in a way that can't be cured

there's air in space (won't be suffocating today besties 😌💅)

space is a survivable temperature

my ship never runs out of resources

we never get lost in space

none of us can get infected

none of us can get shot

mine and my crew's wounds are always non-life threatening

i forget my script upon shifting

[blackshadowswriter]

Make It Better┃ Matt Murdock

Summary: You've had nothing but bad experiences with men and periods, something Matt will not stand. He's determined to make it better for you, and oh, he succeeded.

Words: 3,840

CW: period stigma (dickhead men being assholes about periods), smut (nipple play, clit stimulation, praise kink, aftercare)

AN: I've been seeing quite a few period comfort fics with Matt on here, and the writers were all like "my period just started, so I wanted to write this," and like, are our cycles all aligned? Because me too bitches, and I decided to join the party ✌

Periods. Menstruation. That time of the month.

Call it what you want. There was no disguising the harsh truth once a girl got hers—that periods were plain misery.

Your old Sunday school teachers from middle school when your parents dragged you to church told all the girls how their monthly menstruations were a blessing from God, a sign of fertility and womanhood. All of the class had gazed up at the nun preaching this with expression ranging from amazement to apprehension to downright horror.

You were one of the last group, and you had found out soon enough that you were right. Despite all the praises that nun had sang to God for "blessing" the girls with their periods, there was no hiding the fact that periods were downright torture.

There you were on a Friday night in the present, thinking of that nun and her insistent voice ringing with memory in the back of your head: "Remember, girls, always thank God when your monthly menstruation begins for God has blessed you with fertility of a woman."

Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit, you thought.

And there you were, curled up in bed, cursing that nun in your head with language that could have given the aurora borealis a run for its money.

Dull throbs of agony worked its way from your lower abdomen all the way through your body, resonating to your back, to your chest, to your thighs. You were tangled up in the sheets in the fetal position, unwilling to move any more than was necessary at the moment even though such movement would be inevitable. You'd already ran through three tampons, and your period had just started this afternoon.

The first and second days were always the worst.

A miserable noise escaped your lips as you rolled over slightly onto your boyfriend's side of the bed. Speaking of which, he should be back from work soon—

The sound of the front door opening met your ears, paired with the familiar tap of a cane echoing through the living room to the open door of the bedroom.

"Sweetheart, I'm home!"

Any other day, the low timber of Matt's voice would have had you springing up from the bed or the couch or wherever you'd nestled and racing into his arms. Today, however, you simply burrowed further into the bed, groaning.

"Sweetheart?" Matt appeared at the doorway, the concerned furrow of his brows evident as he made his way to your side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just...bad day," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in, unwilling to face the embarrassment of telling Matt what was going on. While the two of you had been dating for months now, this was the first time you'd gotten your period since you moved into Matt's apartment with him. This was an unfortunate side issue you admittedly hadn't been thought about when you agreed.

"Yeah?" The bed dipped down slightly where Matt sat down next to you. His calloused fingers were in your hair a second later, gently scratching your scalp. The heavenly feeling of his hands in your hair usually had you purring and curling against him, but all it did today was make you whine. "Tell me about it then?"

You sighed softly, shifting your position as you uncurled your legs to stretch them out. "Just everything bad in genera—Matt? You alright?"

He had gone stiff, his blank eyes darting around and his mouth set in a hard line. In a second, his hands were around your waist, hauling you up from the bed and dragging your form towards him.

A disgruntled huff flew from your lips at the sudden movement. You wound up in Matt's lap, which was something you usually wouldn't protest against, but the situation in your bitch of a uterus sent a fresh wave of pain stabbing in your abdomen. "Matt!" you complained. "What's going on?"

"Where is it?" Matt demanded, his ever gentle hands roaming up and down your waist and skimming across the sides of your thighs as if looking for something. "Who did it to you?"

"Did what?" you asked in confusion.

"I can smell it," he growled, teeth slightly bared as he hunted for the perceived threat. "Who hurt you?"

"N-no one hurt me," you said, utterly bewildered, watching him search for any sign of injury along your body even though there was none. Perhaps this was just a clever ploy to feel you up. You reached up to tap the side of his cheek. "I think your bat senses are acting up, Matt."

He softened at your touch, but his hands remained persistent, roaming across your legs. Oddly enough, his touch was centered in the general area of your hips and thighs as he skimmed for any hurt. That was only further cementing your theory of him just trying to get handsy. "I can smell your blood, sweetheart," he rumbled. "Where are you hurt? Tell me who did it to you."

You froze. "Y-you...can...smell..."

Matt's head tilted to the side. "There's blood around the area of your thighs," he murmured. "Who hurt you?"

Realization washed over you like a bucket of icy cold water. You slumped forward with a groan, pressing your palms to your forehead. Embarrassment was searing its way through your face, turning your cheeks bright red. "No, Matt, no," you sighed, grimacing as you searched for a way to explain. "I'm not hurt. No one hurt me. I'm...I'm fine."

"I can smell blood," he insisted. "You're hurt."

"I'm not hurting," you groaned, tipping your head forward to bury it in your hands, wincing when the movement only amplified your cramps.

Matt's brow furrowed as he tilted his head further towards your chest. Oh shit, you thought as you realized he was listening to your heartbeat, likely hearing the lie in your words that you weren't hurting while your cramps were mowing down every nerve in your fucking uterus.

His hand stilled on your left thigh, and he slowly rubbed a circle into your skin with his thumb. "Why won't you tell me, sweetheart?" he asked softly. "I can tell you're in pain, I can smell the endorphins. What's wrong?"

You flopped backwards onto the bed with a wince. "'M not hurt," you mumbled sullenly. "They're just cramps."

"Cramps?"

Burying your face underneath to pillow as if it would hide you from your humiliation, you grumbled, ""M on my period, Matt."

Your legs were still resting across Matt's lap, so you felt the moment he stilled at your words. You cringed beneath the pillow, waiting for one of the inevitable responses you had heard from men all the time: ew, that's disgusting, get off me, go away—

"Oh," he said softly, a faint note of what sounded like relief in his voice. That made no sense; why would he be relieved? He should be disgusted, he should be grossed out, he should be telling you to get off his bed.

The bed shifted around you, and Matt's legs slid out from underneath you. Your eyes closed in resignment, but at least him just leaving was better than him kicking you out, you decided.

Instead, an strong arm snaked around your waist, and the comforting feel of Matt's warm weight was draped across your back. He pulled you into his chest, spooning you as he wrapped his arms around your scrunched-up form. His lips ghosted across the side of your neck to press a kiss along your jawline.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed in your ear. "Are you alright?"

Your brain took a few seconds to adjust to the fact that Matt was still here, Matt hadn't run away, he hadn't asked you to leave, he was cuddling with you instead of treating you like some disgusting animal, he was still here—

You frowned and rolled over onto your back to look up at him. "Why aren't you running away?"

"Why would I?" Matt asked, confused. His tone, sincere as it was, only served to befuddle you even further. He really, truly saw no reason to leave you. How?

"I'm on my period," you said slowly as if his radar hearing hadn't heard it loud and clear the first time.

Matt nuzzled his face against your neck, tangling his legs with yours. "And?" he murmured sleepily.

"I thought...are you not, you know...grossed out?"

"Why would I?" he asked again, his fingers coming up to stroke the side of your face. "It's just blood, isn't it? Sweetheart, you can't possibly think that blood would scare me away? I bleed every night." His voice was tinged with amusement.

"It's different," you mumbled, turning to hide your face against his throat, pleasantly surprised when he let you. Gentle hands slid up into your hair, stroking the back of your head tenderly.

Matt hummed in disagreement. "How so? Blood's blood."

"It's..." You huffed out a sigh of frustration. "God, Matt, do I really have to explain how periods work to you?"

"I did pass high school biology, thank you very much," Matt laughed.

"Then you do know that my bitch of a uterus is currently pouring buckets of blood out my fucking vagina?"

An amused smirk lifted the corner of his lips up. "That wasn't exactly how they phrased it in school, but I guess the general idea was the same."

"How are you still here?" you demanded. "Why aren't you leaving? Or kicking me out of the bed or—or—"

A dark shadow crossed Matt's face, any trace of humor disappearing from his expression. He licked his lips slowly, and when he spoke, his words were tainted with restrained anger that you understood wasn't directed at you. "Have others done that to you before? They kicked you out of the bed?"

"Um...well, all of my exes were grossed out," you mumbled, watching the corner of Matt's lips tighten in displeasure. You had no idea why he was so angered by this new information—was that not how all men treated periods? "Some just had varying levels of reactions."

Matt curled his lip, teeth clenching and eyes burning with fiery fury. "I hope none of them ever find themselves in Hell's Kitchen," he said darkly. "Or I'll be having a talk with them at night."

You had no doubt Matt wasn't referring to a nice little innocent-blind-lawyer-here-to-help talk. Most definitely, more of a break-your-bones-as-the-devil kind of talk.

"Why?" you asked, infinitely confused. "I mean...I thought it was normal for guys to, you know...react like that."

Matt scoffed harshly. "No," he growled. "Those exes of yours are all assholes." He stroked the side of your face tenderly and dipped his head down to kiss you, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the anger thrumming below the surface in his body. You tilted your head up to return the kiss, your head still caught up on the fact that holy shit, he was still here, he hadn't run away.

"I love you," you sighed against his lips, feeling him soften against you.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured. Matt nuzzled against your neck, trailing kisses along your throat as he entwined his legs with yours. His arm slid firmly around your waist and pulled you into his chest, kissing your lips again.

Eyes fluttering shut, you relaxed in Matt's arms, savoring in the feel of his heavenly soft lips against yours. You were just getting comfortable, all cuddled up against him when another vicious cramp rolled across your stomach. A sharp whine at the pain falling from your lips broke the kiss as you drew your legs up to your chest with a miserable groan.

You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow. "Stupid—fucking—cramps," you hissed.

Matt rubbed your back sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I wish I could make it better." You could hear the frustration at his helplessness in this situation bleeding into his voice.

"Yeah, I wish you could too," you mumbled, pressing the heel of your palm against your closed eyes as if the darkness would minimize your pain. Alas, it did nothing except make little stars pop up behind your eyelids from how hard you dug your hands in. "It's fine, Matt. This happens every month. I'll live. I'll just...ride this out until it's done."

"I don't like it," Matt grumbled. "I don't like you being in pain.

"'You can't do anything about it," you reminded him gently, shifting in bed to look at him, hiding a grimace at the throbbing cramps the movement brought. You reached up to brush your fingers along his cheek. "It's not like you can go all Daredevil on my uterus. Which wouldn't exactly help anyways."

A thoughtful hum vibrated against your skin as Matt pressed a kiss to your shoulder, running his fingers along your arm. After a few moments of consideration, he said quietly, "You know...I read something the other day. About periods."

"Yeah?" You lifted a teasing eyebrow that you knew he could feel if not see. "And what exactly, Mr. Murdock, were you doing reading about periods?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Doesn't really matter," he said evasively, and your eyebrows traveled further up your forehead. "I read that oxytocin can help relieve period cramps."

"And?"

"And..." Matt nudged you over on your back, hovering his body over yours and dipping down to kiss you. "You know what releases oxytocin?"

"'M—not a—scientist—Matt," you complained as he started pecking you on the lips like a fucking bird. "I don't know—cuddling probably?"

"Mhm," he agreed, easing up on his insistent pecking and trailing his lips down to your throat. "That's one. What else?"

"You're not my 9th grade biology teacher," you huffed, grimacing through more cramps and drawing in a pained breath through clenched teeth. "What else releases oxytocin then, professor?"

Matt lifted his head from your neck, and the devilish grin he flashed you was practically dripping with sin. "Orgasms," he said with a perfectly innocent face.

You blinked. "Wha—Matt!"

Your question dissolved into a yelp when Matt yanked you towards him suddenly, bracing himself on his elbows over you, one of his hands cupping your jaw as he kissed you languidly. His insistent tongue slid into your mouth the second you opened it to him, the molten heat of him melting into you. Despite yourself, you let out a strangled moan, your own hands reaching up for him.

"Matt," you panted against his lips. "I can't—I'm sorry—not right now, I'm on my period."

"Oh sweetheart." He cradled the side of your face in one hand and slid his hand down to your thigh thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip before dipping his head down towards yours, his lips hovering an inch from yours. "You don't think that'll stop me, do you?"

"Mhm," you mumbled between his kisses. "Matt—'M bleeding—'s not gonna be pretty—"

"Well, lucky for me, that won't be a problem, will it?" Matt asked, that hungry, ridiculously hot smirk cropping up again as he dragged your lips back to his, hands gliding up across your waist. You had gone to bed in a pair of panties and an oversized shirt, and clearly, Matt was taking advantage of your lack of clothing.

Not that you were complaining in the slightest.

But the fact still stood that there was enough blood pouring out of you to fill the goddamn Nile River.

It was hard to form a coherent thought between Matt's insistent kisses and his exploring hands, and you wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you. Normally, that was a good enough plan but not on your period. You would bleed all over Matt's silk sheets, and you didn't think Matt could handle the smell nor you the embarrassment.

"Matt," you whined as his hands got more adventurous, sliding up underneath your shirt to gently massage at your skin.

"Shh," he murmured, nipping lightly at your neck while one of his large, calloused hands found their way up to your breasts. You arched into his touch when he brushed his fingers softly over your nipples, a breathy moan escaping your lips despite yourself. "Just let me take of you, okay? Let me make it better for you, sweetheart. Let me help you. Can you do that for me, honey?"

"I—fuck," you gasped when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, your sensitive body reacting instantly to his touch. Heat coiled between your legs, and you automatically tried to squeeze them together, but Matt was still cradled between your thighs.

But he felt the way you clenched around his broad hips, a low chuckle sounding in your ear. "Sounds like you want it, sweetheart," he mused, switching to cup your other breast in his hand with a reverent murmur of your name. "Don't fight it—it's okay. Let me make it better, okay?"

"Fuck," you groaned, instinctively grinding your hips upwards into Matt's. "Yes, yes, okay. Fuck, yes, Matt."

The sinful smile he gave you made it all worth it. "Good girl," he praised softly, grin only widening when you whimpered at the name. "Let's get this off now, hmm?" he purred, tugging at your shirt.

All too eager, you practically ripped it off your body with a panting groan as Matt lowered himself down so that his body molded against yours, the almost burning heat of his mouth gliding up across your stomach to your breasts. He sucked one gently, swirling his tongue around your oversensitive nipple before switching to the other while you moaned above him. Your breathless gasps of his name only urged him on further as his fingers danced down towards the waistband of your panties, skimming across the soft skin of your hip.

"Matt," you groaned when he curled his fingers in the fabric, ready to tug them off. "I—mphm—gonna get blood on—on the sheets—"

"Don't care," he said absently, shifting down the bed to settle between your legs, already sliding your panties down your legs. "'S just blood, and they're just sheets. I want you."

Before you could even begin to comprehend just how much that one statement meant to you, Matt's fingers were diving into your folds, swiping across both blood and wetness before bringing them back up to circle your clit achingly slowly. A broken whine spilled from your mouth, the first caress of pleasure coming after days of pain and cramps like a glimpse of sun breaking through clouds.

You gasped Matt's name in both praise and plea combined, nearly writhing when he finally applied more pressure where you desperately needed against your sensitive clit. Hips bucking up into his hand, you let out a needy moan, eyes rolling back into your head while he worked his fingers in the magical way only Matthew fucking Murdock could.

"That's it, sweetheart," Matt cooed, speeding up the pace of his fingers. You could hear the absolutely sinful sound of your slick against Matt's fingers as he stroked you faster. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go, I got you."

The praise had you panting and gasping like each breath was the last one you could take. Fiery pleasure was scorching its way across you, starting at the point where Matt was touching you so well and burning across every nerve in your body like a supernova exploding into existence.

"So close, sweetheart, just let go," Matt encouraged, gliding his fingers over your swollen bud. "Come for me, sweetheart."

And then, he slid a hand up your body to roll over your nipple at the exact moment he brushed his fingers up against that spot on your clit, and that was it. You cried out, Matt's name echoing on repeat in the bedroom while molten heat rolled across your body in a tidal wave, days of pent up stress melting away as you finally gave way to pleasure. Your body trembled as you came down from your orgasm, and your head fell back against the pillows with a blissed out moan.

"Mm...Matt," you slurred, still drunk on the feel of your slowly receding pleasure.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he called, sounding oddly distant.

You peered blearily at the doorway, only now realizing that he had disappeared from the bed. Your heart sank, lazy afterglow of pleasure giving way to gripping anxiety once more. God, this was what you had been afraid of. Even Matt, as wonderful as he was, would also be grossed out by your blood all over him, something you couldn't blame him for—you probably looked like an extra for the Walking Dead down there. No wonder he had left. Your head flopped back down, an empty feeling worming its way into your chest.

But then the bed shifted again under Matt's weight, and you looked up, confused once more, to see Matt sliding back in bed with you, a warm washcloth in hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, his now clean hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "I heard your heart going up. What happened?"

"I..." You watched in a state of half disbelief and half awe as Matt gently wiped away the blood smeared along the insides of your thighs with no disgust, no judgement, no desire to hastily sweep away the evidence—just sweet, genuine care. On a normal day, this would warrant a thank you, a gesture of affection in return, or just anything to thank him like a normal person would.

But this wasn't a normal day, and you promptly burst into tears.

The cloth was all but abandoned on your leg as Matt moved back up to cradle you against his warm, broad chest without a word.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm not usually this emotional, I swear—"

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face. "It's okay, I know."

"It's just—" you sniffled, blinking back more tears. "None of my other boyfriends did this. They all treated me like I was dirty or—or contaminated, and I thought you were leaving me, but you've been s-so good to me."

"It's the least I could do, honey," Matt assured you, tilting your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "Because I love you, and I want to help you any way I can."

"I love you so much," you mumbled against his lips, slumping against him in peace before you sat up, realizing something. "Oh God, Matt, I'm sorry, I didn't take care of you, I meant to—"

""Hey, hey, no," he soothed. "It's okay, that was about you. You needed it, don't worry about me."

"But—"

"No," he said firmly. "I'm good, sweetheart. Now, let me clean you up, and we can go to bed, alright?"

"....Okay," you agreed quietly when Matt gave you that stern look that you knew meant he wouldn't budge on this.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed like a pair of koalas, legs entwined and arms around each other. You nuzzled further into Matt's arms when he dropped a kiss into your hair.

"I love you," you murmured sleepily. "How did I get such a wonderful boyfriend?"

You felt Matt's lips turn up into a smile where they were pressed against your forehead. "Hmm, I don't know, but I'm sure your boyfriend doesn't deserve you."

"Stop it," you scolded, reaching up to cup his cheek. "If anything, I don't deserve you. You take care of me so well, Matt."

Matt smiled, his blank eyes fixed on your face as he turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist lightly. "Always, sweetheart," he vowed. "I love you."

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AN: Funny how the smutty fic is the first Matt fic I post even though I have so many swimming in my drafts. Almost like it's a sign of some sort 🤔I'm working on those req though, I promise, guys

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

[lonewolfinthetardis]

Wait what's that? Oh that's right, I'm also a Ghost blog!

My Ghoul headcanons! With a few I've picked up from other posts. Also, spot the Avatar (James Cameron) inspired hcs. Basic hcs

Ghouls are pack creatures. They love being together, whether it's laying around together in a Ghoul Pile, playing games, or just doing tasks around the ministry.

Packs seem like giant polycules to outsiders, but they're much more complicated than that.

The Ghouls love teasing the Siblings of Sin.

They're extremely loyal to their Papa.

When on tour, they will wear enchanted amulets that shift their appearance to appear human. This has been named "glamour".

Sometimes packs will sleep in "piles". This is usually to keep bonds strong or simply for comfort.

Ghouls mate for life, partners basically bond their life forces together.

Ghouls can mate and bond with more than one individual. This can include other ghouls and humans. Biology hcs

All Ghouls have varying shades of grey skin and spaded tails (although Water Ghouls normally have fins on their tails). They also have claws on both their hands and feet, toe pads, horns, rough forked tongues, and sharp teeth.

Their tails and ears are very expressive.

Their tails are prehensile.

Water Ghouls have "ripple" or "water like" markings, usually a shade of grey darker than their skin. They also have webbed hands and feet, finned ears, and gills.

Ghouls have a superb sense of smell, sight, and hearing. Each Ghoul has their own specific scent, that all other Ghouls can smell and recognise them by. They will also memorise smells from their favourite humans (this can include human mates).

Packmates are connected to each other via telepathy. They can tap into each other's emotions, and can talk to each other through this strong connection.

Their eyes glow in the dark. They usually have a slight glow normally, but at night they're pretty bright.

Each Ghoul can tap into the magic connected to their element, or elements.

All Ghouls have a thin layer of fur on their chest, back, biceps, and down their backs to their tail.

They all go through a type of cycle, no matter their gender.

During the colder months, the thin layer of fur they have will grow thicker. It's very soft and fluffy, but dense. Although Quintessence and Air Ghouls have a thicker coat of fur all year long. Air Ghouls have the softest fur, almost cloud like in a way. While Quintessence Ghouls have coarse, stiff fur. Ghoul Scents (Prequelle and Impera Ghouls, including my OC)

Dewdrop: Wood smoke

Aether: A soft, pleasant incense. One that doesn't tickle your nose or cause you to cough

Rain: Petrichor

Swiss: Crushed rosemary

Mountain: He smells like a greenhouse: That delicous wet warmth smell

Glacier (my OC): A warm, windy day with a hint of orange

Cirrus: Ozone

Cumulus: A cold morning wind

Sunshine: Eucalyptus

Aurora: A sea breeze

Phantom: Slightly like sweet beeswax

Teeth hcs (featuring art by me)

Water Ghouls have backwards facing serrations on their fangs, making it extremely difficult for prey to escape. This is also why they don't tend to bite their partners or pack mates.

Earth Ghoul teeth are the most similar to human teeth, the main difference being their overall strength and much longer fangs.

Fire Ghoul teeth have long fangs with sharp teeth on either side of them.

Air Ghoul teeth have a lupine appearance, with sharp incisors and sharp first molars.

Quintessence Ghouls have very sharp, strong teeth that have a sort of "classic monter" look.

Multi Ghoul teeth are a mix of the elements they are connected to (symbols are a mix of all their elemental symbols).

----------- So this is my Ghoul hc master post! I'll most likely create a post about my individual Ghoul headcanons at some point. I'll also be talking about my GhostxTF2 crossover at some point!

[serenescribe]

the prince's physician Twisted Wonderland | 3.7k Summary: Malleus is the prince’s physician. He reflects on everything his role entails. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52875436 Collaboration with @ohsleepie | Potential spoilers for elements of Chapter 7

Hello everyone! This fic is directly inspired by @ohsleepie's wonderful "The Prince and his Physician" AU, and wound up being an impromptu collaboration featuring absolutely stunning and incredible art drawn by Sleepie himself! Please check him out and follow him!

I'm so happy to share this, and I hope that you all enjoy it!

The days between the prince’s passing and his inevitable reincarnation always feel the longest to Malleus.

Time, as it is, is a slow-paced thing; such is life for him as the last of his kind, a single year feeling far more miniscule for him than it does for a human. Malleus loses track of the days easily, slips up on his months and years. He is only aware of the passage of time through distant observations of festivities — celebrations to herald in a new year, for one, or the prince’s birthday, for another.

But rather than track the time through each changing year, Malleus tracks them in cycles of Silver’s life and death.

With each new reincarnation, each new cycle brought anew, something imperceptible shifts in the air. A rebirth means many things — to the kingdom’s populace, it is yet another year of a curse yet unbroken; to Malleus, it is a tangible, physical mark of his failures. But failures aside, there is something so jarring, so off-putting, about seeing the nursemaids and servants whisk a cradle through the halls of the castle, a cradle Malleus knows the contents of.

It is Silver, always Silver, a slumbering baby identical to the dozens that came before him — wispy locks of silver hair that plaster against his forehead, pudgy hands and chubby cheeks, and when he opens his eyes, those same, breathtaking hues of the brightest auroras.

Malleus always stops and stares whenever these moments occur. For an instant, his breath is stolen right from his throat by some unseen thief; his mind dredges up memories of when he, himself, was young, stirring to life old cycles when he was but a child himself, unable to comprehend Silver’s passing and subsequent return. It had taken him quite some time to grasp all of it — but then again, could one truly blame Malleus when his guardian figure, the kindly young prince his age who took him in and treated him well, had died in bed, only to reappear as a wee babe?

But when Silver returns, Malleus feels as though he can breathe again, an invisible knot in his throat loosened.

Because when Silver is gone, Malleus feels… useless, for lack of a better word. His own memories of his childhood are haphazard and spotty, mainly made up of foggy recollections of surviving in the harsh brambles of fae forests. For many, many years, he has found a purpose, was given one through being brought to this human kingdom: break our prince’s curse, and save him from Death’s unyielding grip.

There are few here who deign to interact with him beyond courteous pleasantries. They turn their noses up at him, eyes narrowing, lips twisting; it is fae, they whisper to each other, voices dripping with venom. If not for its magic, its prowess, surely we would have left it to die.

Silver is kind to him, has always been ever since he was young. So is it truly so shocking that Malleus feels so lost with him gone, and feels so relieved whenever he returns?

(And yet, intermingled with the relief, buried underneath such feelings of solace, there lurks another monster. A sense of guilt which festers, slowly growing over time.

An old memory rises whenever Malleus reflects on it for too long, of Silver’s voice:

“I wish for you to break my curse, Malleus. But I do not want to be immortal. My people have suffered for far too long, unable to grow and prosper due to my unending fate.”

He remembers a soft, sad smile.

“To relieve them of that burden, to allow them to grow with my final passing… that is what I wish for, above all else.”)

“How are you feeling today, your majesty?”

It is always odd, with each new cycle. To reacquaint himself with this new Silver — so much like the one before, in his appearance and demeanour, yet lacking the full memories of his past. Malleus knows Silver recalls just enough, especially when aided with the meticulous journals his previous incarnations have kept, but it is jarring, all the same, to reintroduce himself to someone he has known for many, many decades.

Silver blinks at him from the bed, the four-poster frame draped with too many silks and gauzes, too big for a boy of his size. His eyes are tinged with crusts of sleep, bags forming under them despite the medicines and foods they all have him eat, and yet there is such a strange tranquillity resting in his expression whenever Malleus sees him. “I’m quite alright, Malleus,” he responds, voice scarcely a whisper, soft and sweet. “And you don’t need to call me such formalities. We’ve been over this many times.”

Malleus exhales, the breath slipping through his nose.

No matter how many times Silver tells him as such — and it has been plentiful, through Silvers young and old, of different years, different decades, different centuries — Malleus still abides by such titles, at least when he first speaks to him. It gets easier as the years pass, as he acquaints himself a bit closer, as Silver inches closer to another inevitable death, but all the same—

“You are to be his physician,” a voice instructs him, the memory looming to life once more, “and you do not stand on equal ground with him. As such, you are to abide by our formalities: he is to be referred to as ‘your majesty,’ and nothing else.”

“Prince Silver,” Malleus says instead, the title a little clunky on his tongue. Silver raises an eyebrow at him, but does not push. He merely sits in place as Malleus walks over, his heels clicking against the floor, tail lashing behind the fabrics of his half-skirt. “Allow me to check you over today, if you will.”

“At this point, you need not even ask.”

The days go by the same way they always do: Malleus inspects Silver over carefully, running careful hands over every inch of his body before he adjusts his magic, and delves deeper into the beyond. His instincts are carefully attuned for any little change, anything he has never seen or felt before — any anomaly at all could give a new direction for him to research in, and a new possibility of a means to break the curse.

(He refuses to let himself think too hard about what breaking the curse truly entails. Malleus has ruminated over it over the course of many, many cycles, laying wide awake in bed, staring up at elegantly painted murals on the ceiling in the dark of night. It is always the same thing — should he abide by the kingdom’s wishes, or by his prince’s?

In the end, regardless of which route he chooses, Malleus shall break the curse. But it is the eternal dilemma presented to him that tangles his soul day after day — what would truly be better, to let Silver live past the ages of youth and mature into an all-powerful, immortal king? Or to let him die in peace, freeing his people from the burdens of a monarchy, their hopes and dreams all inextricably tied to their young and dying prince?

And, to another extent, the other part of the question Malleus thinks about, what does he want himself?

There is a part of him that feels such vibrant joy and pride at the thought of Silver thriving — to live as long as Malleus shall, if not even longer; to rule with his steadfastness and kindness, resolute as he heralds a new, immortal age of glory. Malleus knows little about the history of his own kind, but what tiny bits he can dredge up have taught him of a group of creatures with such power and perfection, such beauty and bravery. They thrived in the night, ruled from the shadows, creatures of such majestic, nigh-immortal magic with an arrogance that led to their own downfall.

As a fae himself, Malleus wonders if it is only natural for him to desire such things for Silver. To watch him grow into the ages he has never been able to reach before, to witness him at his fullest might and glory.

And yet, the mere thought of the stabbing betrayal in those auroral eyes, the sadness that may overcome those soft features, is enough to give him pause each and every time.)

He was young when they found him skulking about the brambles.

For as long as Malleus can remember, he has always been alone. Though he’s certain he remembers some sensations of warmth from before he came into being, of being cradled close in a loving embrace, all he remembers, through to his earliest memories, is of being alone.

And for such a lonely fae child, wandering about an overgrown, abandoned valley, what else was there for him to do but survive? To pounce about and gulp down whatever meals he could find, to curl up in the nooks of trees and little rock caverns to try and keep warm… and to hide in the brambles, slitted eyes peering at civilisation from afar.

He’d watched the daily lives of the human kingdom after finding out about their existence, when he was old enough to try and mimic a form similar to their own. Still, Malleus had been too scared to venture too close, some innate part of him screaming at him to stay away, and so he had simply observed from a distance… until one day, they found him.

He remembers little of that day now. It’s all a blur when he tries to recollect it — sharp grips tightening around his limbs as he kicked and thrashed, searing magic that ripped through his veins, burning those who tried to hurt him, being thrown and tossed about, immobilised by something that seared at his skin… All while screaming and yelling flooded the air, his heartbeat thumping chaotically in his ears, head spinning as his surroundings whirled about him—

And then it stopped.

And then there was Silver.

He was young then. That, Malleus recalls. He remembers everything after the pain and the panic with ease, of the way the young boy — just as young as he, with silver hair and such pretty, colourful eyes, and oh-so gentle hands — had removed the searing things that hurt him, and rubbed something that stung before it began to feel better.

“My name is Silver,” the boy told him, in a soft, kind voice that made Malleus feel… safe. “I’m sorry about the pain they caused you. I hope you’re feeling better now.”

Malleus understood him, of course, in some strange, innate way. But his tongue could not shape the same sounds that he heard, no matter how hard he tried. When he spoke, all he could manage was something that chimed and clicked, something Silver didn’t understand.

And yet, in spite of all that, Silver had such patience with him anyway. He allowed Malleus to stay by his side, to stay in his room, eating the same foods that he did — and what a treat they were, for a child who starved as long as he had! — and sleeping in his bed.

Time passed; his wounds healed. His tongue began to curl in all the right ways, taught painstakingly by Silver how to speak in his tongue in-between the periods of time where he had to disappear. Malleus relished in each and every day, the loneliness that haunted him for so long no longer looming over him like a shadow. Now, he had Silver—

Until he didn’t.

Silver hadn’t woken up one day, no matter how hard Malleus tried. Nudging him, shaking him, calling his name until his voice rose in a panic, and the door slammed open, footsteps thumping into the room. He’d been dragged away, kicking and screaming again, the same terror from years ago swelling up once more in his heart; the fire that sparked through his veins, the sheer agony and pain, the lurking realisation that he was alone again.

He remembers very little of those in-between days, the foggy haze of nothingness only pierced by a baby’s cry and the realisation that Silver had somehow returned. But it hadn’t been until years later, years of being stuck in a tiny little bedroom by himself, that Malleus could finally see him again.

Silver was younger now. Younger than Malleus himself. And finally, he explained it to him.

“I have a curse on me,” Silver told him, as simply as possible, as Malleus curled around him in his bed. “And other humans believe you can break it.”

Malleus blinked up at him, raising his head from the soft, downy cushions. “I… can?”

“You can,” Silver affirmed with a gentle smile, his voice high. He reached out, wrapping his arm around Malleus and bringing him close. “Because you’re a fae. You’re so strong. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

The truth, of course, was far more complex than that simplistic explanation. The truth was that Silver’s curse itself was fae-inflicted and, considering the immense strength of the fair folk, only another fae’s skills would be able to eliminate the curse. But Malleus had been young, and Silver, despite his youth and the fact that he still barely recalled his own memories, was kind, trying to explain everything to Malleus as simply as possible: You are strong, and we believe in you. I believe in you.

And Malleus had accepted it, taking on his new role as the prince’s physician with a regal sort of pride.

Magic slinks through his veins as naturally as blood, the two intermingling and intertwining. It comes to him so easily, far more than even the most expert mages of the kingdom, who have spent decades of their mortal lives honing their skill to a perfect shine.

But for as naturally gifted as Malleus is, he lacks the proper training one should have. That is, not the training of human mages, for he has gone through many cycles worth of such a thing, but the training of a fae.

Fae magic is so distinctly different from that of humans, rooted in their very heart and soul, and in the power of the natural world around them. And though Malleus can adapt to his circumstances, taking what the reluctant tutors teach him and twisting it to suit his own strengths, there is only so much he can learn and do until he hits a wall, and gets stuck in one place.

If only there were other fae still alive, still out there. If only, Malleus thinks longingly, a swell of frustration burgeoning within him as he hits yet another blockade in another theory he’s been trying to test, the ink of his feathered quill dragging to a blotchy halt across the parchment as he struggles to pen what he’s been theorising into written words.

He hears the whispers of the court, day after day. Why isn’t there any progress? the humans ask, as though Malleus can flick his wrist and cure anything instantly. How many years has it been here? How much longer must we suffer? How much more must our prince wait?

And the thing is, Malleus desires nothing more than to be able to snap his fingers and dispel that wretched curse, all at once. But beyond other factors, such as Silver’s private request to him all that time ago to grant him a peaceful death and free his kingdom from the shackles of his immortality, there is the very fact that this is a fae curse, a complex, interweaving system of magic designed to loop Silver’s death, all while bringing him back every time. There is intent behind this convoluted spell, and save nothing short of somehow speaking to the caster himself, there is little Malleus can do but break it all down in reverse.

He rakes a hand through his hair, a growl spilling from his throat. The quill clatters to the table as he drags his hands down his face, biting back a haggard sigh.

The sound of knocking against wood.

“You may enter,” he calls, twisting in his chair to stare at the door.

The hinges squeak as it cracks open, revealing a guardsman who leers at him. “Your presence is requested,” they state, not bothering to hide their disdain, yet having enough basic courtesy not to let it spill into their words. “The council wishes to learn of your progress on breaking his majesty’s curse.”

Dark lips twist into an ugly sneer. The council, Malleus seethes. A group of uppity, stuck-up human nobles, who constantly die and get replaced with equally awful replacements, who keep breathing down his back about any meagre bits of progress he’s been able to make despite Silver’s attempts to get them to stop.

The downsides of Silver constantly reincarnating, needing to relearn everything all over again as he dives back through journals and jostles his own memories, is that he can’t always chase them away, telling them to leave his physician alone, and let him work. This is one of those times, it seems; Silver is too busy learning how to be a human being again, leaving Malleus stranded against a group of men who seem hellbent on making his very existence hell throughout what little bits of life they live.

But it is not as though he can deny a summons. For all his title as the prince’s physician, Malleus knows — has known for such a very long time — that his rank is meaningless without the very prince he serves.

“Tell them that I shall arrive in five minutes.” Picking up his quill, Malleus dips it back into a pot of ink, a furious frustration igniting the spark within him as he turns back to his incomplete report.

It is better than nothing, and that is worth something.

Malleus holds very little loyalty to this kingdom. What else is there for him, when he is destined to outlive everyone within it, and when they are all so bent on treating him as though he personally killed their families?

He is aware of the history between them and his own ancestors, the plentiful fae who used to share these lands until they waged war against the humans, slaughtering them in a painful, bloody battle. The humans had emerged victorious, all the fae driven out or slain, but it had come at the heavy cost of all their royals killed — except for one.

And for years, they had watched their prince grow with pride, until he had died before his coronation. And then it had happened again, and again, and again — they would find him as a baby nestled within a clearing in the nearby woods, identical in each and every iteration, and they would watch as he always died before arriving at his years of maturity, always while he was far too young.

A fae curse, they realised, far too late. How foolish they had been, to dismiss the magic struck against their prince! It is a fate worse than death, they lamented, their spirits growing weary with each new cycle. What shall we do?

Malleus is their answer to their conundrum, a solution to a problem his ancestors made. And yet, for all the supposed salvation he represents and is supposed to bring, he knows what they think of him. And though he understands it, understands the reservations and hatred for everything he represents, he also cannot help but resent them for it.

Why is he treated like he is lesser, when he is trying to help them?

His loyalty lies with their prince, with Silver, for the kindness Malleus has been shown over and over, throughout countless identical reincarnations, countless ends and beginnings. It is the reason why he stays, why he endures it all, why he works painstakingly at dissecting a curse only he stands a chance of understanding, in hopes of shattering this cruel fate once and for all.

He carries the hopes and dreams of the kingdom on his shoulders — a cruel irony, Malleus knows, considering what most of the populace think of him. He is their only hope, in the end.

But the thing is — and this, Malleus has come to realise over time:

It is easy for the humans to root for their prince. It is easy for them to hope, to pray, to plead with whatever higher forces exist out there for the fae physician to break his curse, bringing them all into a golden age of their royal’s immortality. It is easy because they are human; for many of them, they will not live long enough to witness more than perhaps four or five of their prince’s life cycles, forcing them to tell their descendents of their desires to carry on the flames of their hopes.

When one does not live long enough for their awe and admiration, their all-consuming anticipation, to melt away into something far more pessimistic, it is easy to stand strong and proclaim, “I wish for my prince to live forever; I wish for him to lead us into a new age.”

But for Malleus? For the only fae in a kingdom of mortals, destined to outlive each and every one of them by proxy of his heritage alone?

He has lost count of just how many cycles he has witnessed, from the tender years of childhood into the grown fae he is today. He has lost track of how many times he has met Silver for the first time, the servants and guards and nursemaids who care for him and guard him all switching out cycle after cycle, as more of them die and more of them are replaced.

The humans see not what Malleus witnesses over time: the piles of journals that stack up higher and higher; the heavy bags that marr the underside of those striking auroral eyes; the pure exhaustion that sinks into their prince’s every movement and word, the way he gazes upon his kingdom from towering windows.

In the end, this miserable curse can only end one way: Silver must die.

(The question still remains, pressing down on Malleus’ shoulders, an invisible burden weighing him down with each soft smile and greeting he receives.

Shall Silver live forever? Or only once more?)

[bigsexiest]

What if some ghouls were nocturnal

I'm sure it causes some issues within the pack's dynamic. Watch as I whip out some crazy knowledge from this quick Google search I just did.

Fire and Earth are diurnal (mostly active only during the day)

the pack usually follows these periods of activity when they are home from tour, but on tour they all follow the same schedule

Mountain loves tending to his garden during the hottest brightest hours. He loves the heat and beauty of all the life around him. He doesn't really burn, despite Aether and Omega's constant warnings for sunscreen. They don't actually know if sunscreen works the same for ghouls as it does for humans, but they want to be safe. Mountain slathers it on just for them, but it doesn't seem to make much of a difference. He loves the brightness of everything in the sun. It seems to make him bloom just as it does his flowers. He'll grow these lovely orange and red vining flowers on his horns if he spends enough time in the sun. Aurora says they compliment his skin tone. Mountain always blushes when she tells him how cute they are.

Dew also loves the heat, but only because it makes him comfortable. Usually, he’s a bit chilly at all times. He does his best to hide it, especially since he runs so hot compared to other ghouls. Just the slightest breeze feels unnatural to him. During the hottest days of summer, he feels right at home. Sometimes Rain will wake up and look blearily through his curtains at Dew laying on a concrete pathway directly in the sun. Rain's eyes need a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, as does his brain. He doesn't understand how Dew can enjoy the searing heat coming from both sides. The pavement must burn, and the sun must be so hot on the fire ghoul's skin. It certainly is hot, but Dew enjoys nothing more than the heat.

Multi and Quintessence are crepuscular (which means active during twilight hours)

These two ghoul types find it easier to be active during the strange transitional hours between day and night. Despite this, they often follow either a nocturnal or diurnal schedule since it’s difficult to be the only ghoul awake. Either way, they will usually take long naps during both the day and night so they can be awake enough for dawn and dusk

Aether will wake earlier than Dew, but will mostly follow the fire ghoul’s schedule. Dew sometimes likes to nap with Aether during the peak of the day. They snuggle in Dew's bed, soaking in the sun coming from a window. Aether doesn't need it to be dark to fall asleep weirdly enough. The heat makes Dew drowsy with happiness anyway so it's not a problem. Sometimes the heat emanating from Dew's skin can be a little uncomfy for Aether, but they figure it out.

Swiss finds himself fluctuating between Mountain and Rain’s schedule. He finds joy in being active during both periods. He doesn't have a favorite. They both have their pros and cons. Swiss prefers sunrise and sunset, but, based on his mood, he stays awake for the rest of the day or night. If he wants quiet, he'll look for Rain or Aurora and spend the dark peaceful hours of the night with them. If he wants to be loud and energetic, he'll search for Dew or Mountain and help them out with whatever they're doing. He loves to spend time in Mountain's garden, smelling all the beautiful scents and chasing butterflies.

Phantom will flip-flop between Aurora and Dew’s schedule. He's the most likely to stick with the crepuscular schedule, though. During dusk, he'll wake up early enough to eat dinner with the diurnal ghouls, but he'll save enough space to eat breakfast with the nocturnal ghouls when they wake up. He'll be active for a few hours, and then take a hefty nap. He wakes up for the nocturnal ghoul's dinner before joining the diurnal ghouls for their breakfast. He enjoys his strange cycle, but sometimes he switches things up and stays awake for a shift, following one of the other ghouls through their period of activity.

Omega liked to follow Terzo’s human diurnal schedule

Air and Water are nocturnal (active during the night)

Rain will sleep through the entire day using blackout curtains in his windows. When the sun finally sets he’ll leave his room and go to the lake. He’ll swim around in the moonlight and scare the occasional human taking a midnight walk. He finds the sun dries out his skin far too much for comfort. If he were to force himself to become diurnal, he'd be very unhappy. The heat is abrasive, especially when he'd have to wear numerous cover-ups to protect against the burning sun. Rain likes the nighttime since, as a water ghoul, he's much more likely to overheat. Water ghouls are meant to stay in the water for the majority of their time awake. Rain finds it easier to stay awake during the day only when he spends all of it in the lake. The water protects his skin from drying out and burning and stops him from overheating. Staying in the water the entire day defeats the point of staying awake during the day. He can't be with his favorite ghouls if he can't leave the lake. So it's just easier for Rain to stay nocturnal.

The air ghouls just love the cool breeze that flows in the nighttime. It's quiet and they can fully appreciate the world without distractions. Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunshine all like to take nighttime walks around the abbey's grounds. Aurora sometimes joins them, but she also likes to swim with Rain. Aurora and Rain have long conversations about how they feel disconnected from their friends. Groups of ghouls in the pit would form packs around their element. Nocturnal and diurnal differences had never been an issue. Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunshine usually stay nocturnal, but Aurora will occasionally switch so she can spend some time with her favorite diurnal and crepuscular ghouls. She finds happiness in the sun, but she will always prefer the dark quiet of the night.

That’s the most vivid similarity between the nocturnal ghouls. They love their peace. They’re all perceived as rather shy, but that’s just in their nature. The quiet helps them feel safe and calm.

The ghouls all wish they could be awake together, but they know that's not the best solution. As they spend more time not on tour, they find balance within all of their schedules. It all blends together so the ghouls all see each other at some time or another. Diurnal and crepuscular ghouls will take naps with nocturnal ghouls as they sleep the day away. Crepuscular ghouls spend a few hours with every single elemental group. Eventually, it becomes fluid. The pack feels very connected once they start to exist cohesively.

[rocksanddeadflowers]

It's the winter solstice today so I am again thinking about Lyfrassir celebrating Yule on the Aurora to try and keep Yggdrasilian traditions alive. Hanging up spmistletoe (space mistletoe) or spcedar (space cedar) etc to bring in greenery, or cooking a large traditional feast, maybe they request Marius and other willing mechs to preform Yule carols.

I think specifically Marius would have many feelings about Lyfrassir celebrating Yule, not just bc of the violinspector thing but bc the lore I picked up, Marius is Space German, so he presumably had a variation of Yule in his past. (Also the fanon(?) idea of Marius having written The Wassailant album in his universe, like the Kofi Young album, is chef's kiss btw.)

Just.... Lyf emotionally rambling on about the celebrations they grew up with while Marius teaches them to make Thomas Wheel breads bc he may block out much from his past but he somehow remembered this and it means so much to Lyf that he may as well.

I want the others trying to help the holiday spirit. I want Tim to tell Marius that this is just like Christmas and he should definitely kiss Lyf under the mistletoe bc it's tradition and he rants about Santa Clause bc what do you mean you guys didn't have that? I want Brian to bake gingerbread cookies shaped like octokittens. Raphaella flying around hanging up decor and occasionally scooping up Jonny and forcing him to help (he acts way more upset over it than he actually is). I want the Toy Soldier being compared to nutcrackers but it actually ends up playing Mari Lwyd which, while being mainly Welsh it's close enough and its absolutely lovingly terrifying. Ashes insists on a Yule Log that's an entire tree (Lyf explains that's just an exaggeration or myth but also won't kill their fun). Nastya and Aurora shift the day-night lighting cycles to feel as close to a Midgard winter as possible. Ivy is honestly the only one trying to find genuine traditional celebrations (both out of caring for Lyf and bc she needs this to be accurate period) to help Lyf with.

They pick a night to feast and drink, a few trading presents while they get drunk off of wassail or muled wine and singing different winter holidays carols from each cultural background that had them. Lyf is ever grateful for their newfound family. They're fucked up and frankly quite concerning, but it means the world to find that deep down, in their own way, they all truly care.

[litrumi]

Dumb DayNap Thoughts #9

*Little joke here, but refer to my under-developed, not finished AU idea for this one. Dogday and Catnap are in their "Cycled Forms" (EtherealDog and MatterCat) fighting stronger Shadow Creatures at Night*

EtherealDog, trying to get the enemies' attention: Wait a sec! Hold on, everyone! Before we have to start fighting and probably make things ugly...

MatterCat, listening and suddenly worrying: Oh no...

EtherealDog: Why don't I...

MatterCat, already manifesting sunglasses made from dark matter with his ability:

EtherealDog, charging up for his turn: ...Put on a light show for everyone! Then maybe we can all be friends instead!

MatterCat, putting on the sunglasses and talking to the Shadow Creatures as he waves to them and eats popcorn he pulled out of thin air: Well... It wasn't nice knowing you. Bye.

The surrounding area fills with dazzling, brilliant, and blinding aurora-borealis-like lights that make it hard to see what's going on. But by the end of the light show... There's no trace of the Shadow Creatures anywhere.

EtherealDog, opening his eyes, seeing that the enemies are no longer there: Aw, man! Did they run away again?

MatterCat, patting the dog's back: Y- Yeah... Ran away... Sorry, bud.

EtherealDog, sobbing: Why won't they stick around?! I just wanna end the feud!

MatterCat, thinking to himself: I don't know what's worse. Me lying to him or the fact he doesn't know he's practically disintegrating these guys...

(Bonus)

Dogday, overviewing his stats with curiosity: Everyone keeps asking me why my EXP is almost the same as yours. But we share EXP in fights, don't we?

Catnap, almost choking on his drink, hesitantly nodding: Mhm... So, of course we're at an equal pace.

Dogday, musing: Hm... Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. Oh well, then!

Catnap, sipping loudly and keeping to himself: I may do most of the killing in the day time, but I swear your kill records are in the thousands from the night shift cleanup by now...

The cat shivers from the very thought.

-

[syringesyrup]

it’s shark week for me so i’m thinking about how horrible it is for infamous endometriosis havers cirrus and dew (i’m projecting) and how the pack loves to take care of them throughout the week

their cycles are synced up too so they’re a bit attached at the hip during that week and love getting pampered by the other ghouls.

cumulus is insistent on making them plenty of tea and gathering all the heating pads and softest blankets in the ministry for her ghouls 😿 she often gets squished between the two and becomes their personal pillow as she scratches all the right places behind their ears and horns. the ghouls Looove when lulu goes full mama mode and takes care of them (despite dew acting like he doesn’t need it). sunny is always there with her, doing what she can to help and always trying new ways to make them as comfy as they can be throughout the week. she keeps the room clean, helps them bathe if need be, and takes care of their chores.

mountain is always working with aether and phantom to make some remedies that will ease their cramps and irritability. dew Hates being a test subject for these things but he’d rather die than risk one of these things potentially hurting cirrus, so he lets himself be patient zero for whatever the hell the three of them cook up in mountain’s greenhouse. mountain is happy to roll plenty of little joints that will just take the painful edge off of their sore tummies and cramps (he’s also their favorite scratching / kneading post when they’re cuddled up in bed). aether and phantom do their best to ease the pain with some quintessence and help them get some rest throughout the week.

aurora will of course tell dew to SUCK IT UP LIKE A MAN but falls to her knees the moment cirrus gets a cramp. she has a tendency to make biscuits on cirrus’ tummy because she read somewhere that when cats do that, it heals humans. it doesn’t actually help but cirrus likes to see aurora all cuddled up on her and paw at her tummy. she has her gentle moments with dew when it gets bad, holding his hair back if he needs to vomit or even making sure there’s a warm bath waiting for him when he wakes up.

rain is always there to make sure the both of them are getting enough rest and keep them away from their instruments. he insists on them resting and not pushing themselves, especially when he knows the two of them are perfectionists. he will guard the practice room like a dog to make sure the two of them don’t lay a finger on an instrument until the week is over. he’s caught dew by the scruff many times and dragged him back to bed (he’s “punished” with many rain cuddles and kisses)

oh and swiss is just the absolute fucking Worst. seeing dew and cirrus in any kind of pain has him jumping off the walls. he will blow so much money on chocolates and supplies and just the little things that will make them smile. he’ll drain his quintessence just to help them sleep and is a bit of a mother hen during the whole week. he’ll cook any and every meal they ask of him, no matter how complex or expensive it may be. he’s happy to help, especially when he’s rewarded with getting crushed between the two of them and being their personal heating pad.

copia always makes sure to keep their instruments tuned and clean and taken care of throughout the week, perfect by the time the two of them get back to it. he has a habit of buying them little trinkets like swiss does, just little things that will make them happy. he will push aside all of his work just to make sure his ghouls are comfortable and taken care of. he has a habit of telling them bedtime stories as well, stories of his youth and all the trouble he got into that puts a smile on dew and cirrus’ face as they drag him down into bed and constrict around their papa.

they’re such a loving pack and if one of them is in any kind of pain, all the ghouls have their own way of feeling it. while they might not feel those painful ass cramps and sickness, there’s an energy shift that’s enough to set them all off and rush to cirrus and dew’s aid. the two of them Deserve to get pampered for a week anyways, and the rest of the pack is happy to give them plenty of attention and love :,)

[allmyey3s]

In the Woods Somewhere

Chapter 7: Heat

He stops halfway up the incline. The glowing dots seem placed a little higher than usual. Perhaps it's the weird angle he's looking at him from.

Phantom already wants to take a step further, but then the creature tilts their head, causing an outline of their antlers come into view. They're most definitely a whole lot taller than what he's used to, which should be alarming considering Mountain is a giant on a regular Tuesday.

But he's not thinking with his head anymore. He can feel his cunt soak as soon as soon as he catches the smallest whiff of his mate's misty forest smell. He shakes his head and finishes his ascent to the giant silhouette of his beloved mate in a few quick strides.

The green eyes follow him all the way. He stands in front of the beast and looks up at them. "Mountain, I need your help," he states simply, as if that would be enough to bring clarity into this situation.

The green lights peer back down at Phantom.

If he noticed they are darker than usual, he would have known.

And if he actually paid any mind to the abrupt change in height, he would have known.

And if he noticed the beast smells of misty forest and ash, he would have known.

-----------

Tags: dubcon, plant sex, general mindfuckery, jealousy and possessiveness. Cryptid boys back at it again :)

Summary: Phantom pops his heat unexpectedly and goes to find Mountain in the woods in the middle of the night to help him out, but wait, that's not his monstrous mate...

Read under the cut or on ao3

He should have known as soon as his clit started tingling.

Phantom was watching a movie in the common room with Cumulus, Aurora, Rain and Dew when his cunt started growing wet, little by little. Instead of doing anything about, it or even paying it any mind, he just shifted a little and discreetly rubbed a finger over the seam of his sweatpants twice.

He absent-mindedly processed the events of this morning, how he woke up weirdly horny and just pulled up his shirt, rested his hands above his head with crossed wrists and imagined Rain or Swiss or anyone really tying him up and pulling him apart with their skilled lips. In his groggy state, he didn't think much of it. He must have had a wet dream, that's all.

Oh how stupid he was.

Right before he was about to go shower, Phantom checked his period calendar app. It's a running joke between the band ghoul packs, to try and track their heats with human-made period calendars. And well, he did not expect a week from today to be lit in a rainbow color.

Well fuck.

He showered, quickly contemplated sticking his fingers inside himself but eventually decided against it, wished his packmates goodnight and then shut his door. He even double locked it, in case his smell got too bad through the night.

This felt wrong. He never hid from his packmates when in heat, not even when their cycles followed suit. But he knew heading over to one of them for help would just fuel his little problem, and the traditional way of solving it with a gangbang didn't sound too appealing at the moment.

Instead, he craved a very specific person. Or rather, monster. His body sang for Mountain, for his clawed hands around his throat, his snarls and dirty words that never failed to get him wet, and especially for his monstrous cock.

He needs it buried inside him yesterday.

So here he is, rushing through the dark woods as quickly as he can while also trying his hardest to remain silent. He snuck out of the window, which felt like something straight out of a movie.

Is going out into the woods at night a horrible idea? Absolutely. Does he need to get his mind fucked out of his skull? Absolutely.

This leaves him with no choice but to try to find his way to the cottage where he knows the big beast resides.

His breaths fog up as dried leaves crunch under his feet. The little clouds of mist follow eachother tightly as he takes quick shallow breaths while making his way through the dark forest. It's even more eerie this way. Every shadow seems like it's moving. It fills him with a crippling feeling of unease.

The only reason he's capable of remaining somewhat calm is the bite mark on his neck. He soothes himself with the idea that whatever lurks in here can smell Mountain's scent saturated on his skin as well as in his very body, and would most likely leave him alone. It's undetectable to humans, somehow to ghouls alike, but he knows, or at least hopes, that other creatures of these woods know better than to engage with Mountain's mate.

He pulls his jacket tighter around himself. His teeth are chattering. It's so damn cold. It's nearing Yule time now, so he should be glad that at least the ground isn't covered in snow, but it barely makes a difference. He's been to Mountain's place quite a few times now, he can find his way there.

Maybe in broad daylight.

Because frankly, he is lost as shit right now. He can't see two feet in front of him, and even though he's been following the trail he usually travels on, the forest looks like an alien planet.

"Mountain!" Phantom calls out, his voice echoing off the bare trees and spreading through the cold night. He knows it's stupid, but he's also aware of the fact that Forest Dwellers tend to be nocturnal, so there might be a slim chance of his mate hearing him. The most efficient way, of course, would be whistling, but while Phantom is a bit reckless, he doesn't have a death wish.

He calls out for his mate again, but just like before is met with only silence. He stops and stands still to listen for any sound, any at all. But it's like the endless darkness of this moonless night swallows every sound. He feel so very alone, as if he were standing in a large, empty void. The dread pooling in his gut becomes just a little overwhelming, and he almost turns to head back, but that's when he sees a pair of green floating orbs in the darkness. He quickly recognizes them as Mountain's eyes, which tend to glow in the dark. He doesn't know why, but in his opinion it's cool, so he doesn't ever question.

"Mounty!" he happily squeals as he runs up the small hill towards the glowing eyes. "Oh, Mounty, you don't know how I-"

He stops halfway up the incline. The glowing dots seem placed a little higher than usual. Perhaps it's the weird angle he's looking at him from.

Phantom already wants to take a step further, but then the creature tilts their head, causing an outline of their antlers come into view. They're most definitely a whole lot taller than what he's used to, which should be alarming considering Mountain is a giant on a regular Tuesday.

But he's not thinking with his head anymore. He can feel his cunt soak as soon as soon as he catches the smallest whiff of his mate's misty forest smell. He shakes his head and finishes his ascent to the giant silhouette of his beloved mate in a few quick strides.

The green eyes follow him all the way. He stands in front of the beast and looks up at them. "Mountain, I need your help," he states simply, as if that would be enough to bring clarity into this situation.

The green lights peer back down at Phantom.

If he noticed they are darker than usual, he would have known.

And if he actually paid any mind to the abrupt change in height, he would have known.

And if he noticed the beast smells of misty forest and ash, he would have known.

The green orbs fall low, as if the creature lowered their head. He feels a faint breeze on his neck, accompanied by quiet sniffing. They move lower, to his chest, down to his stomach, then eventually pause on his groin's level. They give two sharp sniffs before shooting forward.

Phantom feels two huge, clawed hands wrap around his thighs and grip firmly, while the monster shoves their face right between his thighs. He lets out a little squeak and tries to shuffle away, but a growl stops him in his tracks.

"Uhm- Mounty--" he starts, reaching down to gently touch the shiny tips of the antlers he can see reflecting the minimal light.

"I am not Mountain," a deep, smooth voice cuts him off. They sound so much deeper, so distorted, so much more monster-like. He knows right then and there they are not lying.

He sees those dark green specks of light lock on his own eyes. "But you are Mountain's claim."

Before Phantom can ask anything, the creature lunges at him and pins him to the ground. A sharp gasp cuts through the air, followed by a thump and a grunt. Before he could even regain the air that was knocked out of his lungs, thick vines wrap all around his body.

"W-What--" is all he can stutter as he squirms in the plant's grasp while his clothes are yanked off him. It all happens so quickly, before he knows it the cold winter air assaults him and causes goosebumps to form all over his body, stiffens his nipples and clit.

"Woah- hey!" he yells as he feels large hands wrap around his bare thighs again. "What are you doing? Who even are you?" he demands. Fear is creeping into his voice, and he knows damn well that he won't be able to remain calm for much longer.

Those dark green orbs focus on him again. A deep chuckle reverberates through the freezing air. "I'm just helping you with your heat, little one."

Not even a moment later the beast buries their face in Phantom's cunt. He gasps when he feels two long fingers push into him and curl right onto that sweet spot he needs them on. The intrusion is accompanied with cold lips latching onto his stiff dick and sucking on it harshly while also cat-licking it over and over again.

A punched-out moan is ripped out of his throat as the sensations combine. He squirms wildly in his organic bondage, but gets absolutely nowhere. "Wa- Wait! Stop!" he yells. He squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers as the fingers inside him start curling repeatedly and petting over his sweet spot. "Stop! No!"

He doesn't know this person, this beast. He wants Mountain, but his body is so lost in all the hormones and instincts that it doesn't even care who is behind that sinful feeling, only that it's finally getting what it needs. His own body, betraying him.

Phantom's struggles and denial seems to only fuel the monster as they suck harder on his clit and starts thrusting their fingers in and out while curling them every time they pass over his g-spot.

High-pitched whines are all Phantom can come up with as all the sensations intensify. It's only been a minute, yet the coil in his gut is wound so tightly he thinks he might explode. "Stop- Stop! I'm gonna cum, stop!" he yells hopelessly as he thrashes around in the vines, but is effectively held in place.

Those lips on his clit thin and curl into what must be a smirk as they continue their ministrations. He can't last much longer, he's already growing so wet. But if he holds out just a little more--

Phantom screams as the beast presses their other hand into the lowest part of his stomach, effectively pulling his orgasm out of him. It's such an intense sensation, the scream he made in reaction was so underwhelming. His whole body seizes up as his eyes clench shut. He squeezes tightly around the monster's fingers, liquid gushing out of him, yet they seem relentless.

A panicked whimper leaves his mouth as they keep sucking harshly on his clit even after he just came obscenely hard. "S-Stop, stop! Please stop!" he pleads again. He prays to the Dark Lord the monster would have mercy and just let him go. He'll find Aether and have him break his heat, anything to get away from this. It feels so good, he's floating somewhere in the orbit, but it's so much all at once. Too much pleasure, too good, too soon. His brain is completely disconnected from his body, but his nerves are in fire, especially in his crotch.

They finally pull away for a second. All he can see are their green eyes. "Have you ever thought about having kits?" the beast asks in a quiet, almost calculated tone.

Phantom's eyes widen, but before he can even answer that no, he's scared of pregnancy, the creature cups each of his pecs and squeezes lightly. For just a second, he can see a faint green glow, but it's gone rather quickly. He should be thankful for that, because if he saw his tits regrowing, he would have fucking passed out. That, however, is not the worst part. A second later he can feel something warm trickling down his chest, and when the monster leans over him to lick the mystery liquid off his tit, he know exactly what it is.

It makes his stomach churn, and he hates how wetter it makes him at the same time. He's absolutely disgusted by this, but so damn turned on as well. "Oh fuck..." is all he can manage, his voice breaking just a little on the curse.

He shuts his eyes as tight as he can, and tries moving once more. He can't as much as twitch, his bindings tight, but he doesn't care, he has to get away. If Phantom ever thought Mountain didn't quite understand human ghoul morals and general manners, this creature seemed Neanderthal in comparison.

A high-pitched cry is wrenched from him as the beast wraps its lips around one of his nipples and latches on, then sucks the pearly white liquid out of him. He thrashes around, but doesn't move even an inch.

It's pitch black around him. He can't see anything, so the yelp that comes out of him as the monster pushes two fingers inside of him again is louder than it normally would be. They push in deep, concerningly so, and all Phantom can do is groan pathetically as they invade the most private and hidden spots of his body.

"Why are your fingers so damn long?" he bites through gritted teeth. His eyes screw shut from the pressure building inside of him, and not only the pleasurable one this time. All he gets in response is a dark chuckle. Before he can come up with more questions, the fingers inside him start moving again, thrusting in and out.

It feels so odd, they're suddenly so much thicker than they were earlier, but then one second they thin out to the point it's barely filling him up. Then right back again, stretching him out until it burns.

It takes a moment for Phantom to realize that they are, in fact, not thrusting but rather... undulating, almost. Thickening and thinning out over and over again, causing it to elongaten and then shorten, poking and prodding into the most secret nooks and crevices inside him.

He only realizes it's not the monster's fingers at all when he feels something almost bumpy and writhing brush against his inner thigh. It's one of the vines.

Phantom gasps sharply. "S-Seven hells!" he yells out as his body spasms. The vine inside him thickened out so abruptly that it caused his stomach to balloon up. He can't see it, but he can feel a bulge in the taught skin of his lower belly.

It feels so wrong, he feels disgusted with both himself and the creature. They changed his body to their liking, only to use it to fuck with his head. He feels sick, yet his body is begging for more, more. Slick is practically dripping out of his cunt, and there must be a pool gathering below him with the steady little droplets that he feels occasionally catching on his rim.

He's so desperate, it's not enough. He wants to shy away, but he's so aroused it hurts at this point. His first orgasm didn't quench his thirst at all, if anything it threw him deeper into the throes of his heat.

He's already losing his mind. His brain is leaking out of his ears, joining the puddle of breast milk, slick and drool gathering below his suspended, squirming form. Little noises keep spilling from his lips, mixed with constant "no"s and "please"s.

As if the beast wants nothing more than to rip all of Phantom's pride away, to humiliate him that much further, another vine is suddenly shoved into him, this time in his ass. It's lubed up, thank fuck it's lubed, because he doesn't think he could handle going at it dry. Where they got the lube, he doesn't question, but he has a strange feeling it's a mixture of his own fluids. That makes his stomach flip harder, suddenly feeling as if it's doing somersaults beneath his skin. But there's nothing he can do, except thrash around and whimper.

Suddenly, there's a rustle somewhere in the darkness. Phantom doesn't even register it at first, he only realizes something is wrong when the vines inside him stop and the warm wetness around his nipple leaves. His eyes open, his body still as a dead thing. Only when the familiar scent of damp woods and cinnamon hits his nose, does he dare move.

"Mountain!" he yells in such a hopeful tone, eyes widening in hope. But a second later a rough clawed hand is clasped over his mouth. He struggles, mumbles incoherent threats and even goes as far as to bite at the fingers pressing against his lips, but they don't budge. If anything, they tighten.

"Phantom? What are you doing he-" Mountain's voice cuts through the tense silence. Before he can finish, the other beast interrupts them.

"He was in my territory. He reeks of heat. I'm giving him what he needs. You on the other hand," they state in that same calm, calculated tone. Their green eyes flash for just a second on that last part. "Have no business here."

Silence.

Why isn't Mountain saying anything? Why isn't he rushing down here to save Phantom? Can't he see how horribly ruined he's getting? He went apeshit when he saw Swiss pouncing onto him with the intention of burying himself inside him. Swiss, who was, for the lack of a better phrase, a mere ghoul in that situation. Now, this? One of his own kind toying with him in such a degrading way? Why is he just standing there?

"Phantom is my mate. Don't act like you haven't seen the mark on his neck," Mountain finally speaks again. He sounds... scared. He sounds scared and angry, seething even, but thay rage is somewhat pushed down and poorly concealed.

"This?" the other asks in an almost bored tone, pressing a pad of a finger onto the slightly glowing bite mark on the ghoul's neck. A surge of strange, yet familiar pleasure shoots down Phantom's spine, a faint golden glow spreading down the invisible veins in pulsating patterns.

A barely audible growl rumbles from the shadows, but is quickly stifled out. "Earth," Mountain hisses. "Let him go. He may be in your territory, but he's still mine."

The monster, Earth, lets out an amused, almost mocking laugh. "Oh, sweet little Mountain," he starts, and suddenly the hand around Phantom's mouth leaves. "I'm just helping a poor creature in heat. You know that's what I do. Quite personally now, don't you?"

Phantom tries to lightly wiggle in his binds, but even with Earth engaged in the conversation, he doesn't seem distracted, so he's kept in place.

Another growl rasps from the darkness, this time accompanied with some rustling. "Shut it. Give him to me. His heat is my issue and mine only," speaks the normally calm beast, who sounds so on edge right now, moments away from exploding.

There's more rustling, coming closer and louder, as if Mountain finally gathered the courage to step forward and actually do something about this incredibly embarrassing and humiliating situation.

The ghoul is being moved then, tugged back and released from the vines, but immediately pressed into a hard, cold chest. "Stay," the big beast warns. "You know what happens to trespassers, Mountain. I wouldn't want our past to be so easily forgotten."

This time, Mountain lets a full snarl slip. "I don't care what you think we had, it all came down to you and your filthy desires. Give me my mate, or I'm going to break your antlers off your head and snap your fucking neck," he threathens, untamed and dangerous, all that previously bottled up anger now spilling into his words like venom through a dying animal.

Silence, again.

Then, a strangled sound comes from Mountain, along with branches snapping and scurrying through the leaf litter, as if he was stumbling around clumsily. "Get out of my head!" he yells, and he sounds so awfully strained that is pains Phantom's heart.

A moment later, he stills, but huffing and panting can still be heard, as well as snarling. Pissed snarling.

"You know you don't think that. You don't have to pretend just to seem big and strong in front of him," Earth speaks once more. He sounds oddly amused, a little smug even, as if he found what he was looking for when he so rudely rummaged through Mountain's mind. He runs a cold finger over Phantom's jaw, tipping his head slightly upwards with a claw. "After all, I'm sure he would understand what it is that we shared." Dark green light casts over the ghoul's face as the beast looks down at him for just a second. The glowing dots crinkle at the edges, as if he was smiling. All Phantom can do is bare his teeth at him.

Earth turns back to face where Mountain supposedly is. "You're jealous," he states. It's not a question, he knows.

Another moment of silence.

"Of course I am, someone else is fucking my mate while he's in heat and then decides to rub it in my face," the beast eventually spits. He sounds more pissed than Phantom's ever seen him. Sure, he's seen him a little aggressive and possessive, but this? He seems like he's going go rip Earth to shreds.

"Have you thought about asking to join?"

The question is worded in such a simple, every-day fashion. As if the monster in front of him is no danger at all.

Phantom is confused, as well as a bit scared. What the ever loving fuck is going on right now?

Once more, silence falls upon the forest. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. It's odd, since the ghoul half-heartedly expected his mate to immediately decline and call nonsense.

But they are hesitating. He somewhat understands why this is as well, after all, what are their options aside from that? The other beast made it very clear he wouldn't just give him up.

After what felt like just a bit too long, Earth moved again, pulling Phantom away from his chest and setting him on the ground. The cold, damp leaves stick to his back as he squirms immediately upon contact, but he can't really get anywhere before the monster's claws dip the skin on his stomach, threatening to pierce the skin. "Stay," he rasps above him.

The monster's dark glowing eyes momentarily flash down to his face, before looking at Mountain once more.

"If you can't make your decision, then I'll continue on as we were. I'll drop him off at your doorstep after I'm done."

"Wait-!"

Before Mountain could even fully form a protest, a loud wail rips from Phantom's throat as Earth suddenly shoves his cock inside the ghoul's warm cunt. The intrusion is so unexpected his whole body seizes up. It almost hurts, the slick having slightly dried while the two beasts were arguing. In this moment, he's just a little thankful for the vines that were violating him a few minutes ago. While it felt absolutely humiliating, it at least prepped him for the giant cock that was splitting him open right now.

Mountain's big, inhumanly (and rightfully) so. Phantom's cervix was heavily bruised after their last little session, but this? He feels like he's about to burst. He can feel it in his teeth, squishing the air out of his lungs, rearranging his guts. His hands fly down his body, trying to somehow push the beast away, but ultimately fails. In the process his palm brushed over his stomach just enough to feel the concerningly large bulge, moving up and down in time with Earth's thrusts. It hurts, it hurts so much, and he knows damn well that if he wasn't in heat right now, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Fine!" Mountain's yell finally cuts through the night and stops the big beast for just a little. "Fine. I'll join in."

They're clearly less than delighted to utter those words, but it's their only chance to be somewhat close to their mate in this situation.

Phantom can practically hear the smirk that spreads across the other creature's face, even if he cannot see. The beast shuffles around a little, crunching footsteps come closer to him, and sooner rather than later, the little ghoul finds himself sandwiched between the two large Forest Dwellers.

As soon as he's settled, Mountain wraps his arms around Phantom tightly. "Mine," he growls in clear agitation and aggression as he buries his face in the ghoul's neck. He feels sharp teeth brushing against the sensitive skin, and just a second later, those dangerous razor points tear into his skin. A reedy whine sounds from him.

Mountain bit into the marked side of his neck. He's never done that before, since the day this mark was given to Phantom. And it feels fucking phenomenal.

The ghoul's eyes roll so far back into his skull that his already minimal vision blacks out. White hot pleasure shoots through his veins, making his muscles weak and bones shiver. He clenches around Earth's dick hard as a second orgams shakes him to his very core.

He can vaguely hear the older beast's booming laugh, but it's distant, somewhere far away. All he truly registers is Mountain burying themself in his ass, Earth picking up his harsh thrusts once more, and he's gone. He briefly feels his mate bumping into a slightly raised spot inside him that feels so much more sensitive than anything else. Dew and Swiss once talked about testosterone apparently having the ability to make you grow a prostate. But he doesn't really remember that, it's nothing more than a distant echo in his mind.

Mountain would much rather be the one claiming Phantom's cunt, but considering how adamant Earth is being about having earned his prize, rutting into their mate's ass is all he can do for now.

It doesn't take them long to notice the new addition to the ghoul's chest. Clinging hands soon began to wander, and the possessive growl they let out at the discovery makes Phantom wetter than he would admit.

But Phantom's floating somewhere near the orbit. He's so far gone at this point he's not even making noises anymore. He doesn't know how many times he's cum, or if he's been cumming all this time. All he knows is endless rapture, blinding pleasure burning him from the inside out.

After hours or minutes, he's not sure, Earth finally pulls out. Pearly liquid spills onto his stomach, staining his skin but not his insides. As much as the monster wants to agitate Mountain, he knows that spilling inside their mate, let alone knotting him, would surely not end well.

The last thing Phantom feels is Mountain yanking themself out of his ass and harshly burying his cock inside his cunt. They barely get a few thrusts in before they too are done, gushing rope after rope of hot seed deep into his womb, their own knot locking them together. Earth is once more latched on his chest, he's sure Mountain is there as well for a second. But before he can feel embarrassed or humiliated again, his sight fades to black. It's too much, too soon, more than his small body can handle in the cold of a winter night.

But luckily Mountain is there, and they're going to make sure Phantom makes a full recovery.

----

Phantom stirs as warm sunlight falls on his eyelids. Blinking his eyes open with a yawn, he slowly looks around.

Mountain's cabin. If the sight of those familiar stained glass windows, decorated with dried orange slices threaded on strings isn't enough, the comforting smell of cinnamon and pine resin saturating the atmosphere reassures him of his whereabouts.

He slowly sits up. Every muscle in his body aches. He's so sore everywhere, especially where he was suspended by Earth's vines the previous night. But of course, it's worst in his crotch and chest. He looks down, relieved to see he's in one of Mountain's large, knitted sweaters. The collar is hanging off one of his shoulders, but he couldn't be more grateful for the warmth it provided. He reaches up under the hem of it to rub at his chest. It's flat again, mostly at least, but he has a strange feeling that if he rubs a little too hard a few leftover droplets might ooze out of him.

The quint raises his head to look at the open bedroom door. "Mountain?" he calls out, only loud enough to be heard. A few seconds later his giant mate comes shuffling through the doorway.

His hair's a bit messy, his eyes a bit more closed than normal. Groggy. He looks as if he woke up not so long ago. A soft smile tugs at his lips. "Hi Bug," he greets, leaning on the doorframe. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Phantom mumbles in response. "Surprisingly not dirty though." Last night he was covered in sweat and dirt and all kinds of bodily fluids. This morning though, there was no trace of any of them.

A quiet chuckle rumbles from the beast's chest. "Good. Ran you a bath when we got home last night. You were so tired you just slept through it." They walk over to the bed and sit down next to the ghoul, the mattress dipping under their weight.

Phantom groans and lets himself lean on the big monster. "I don't even know what happened last night," he complains. He's obviously being just a bit dramatic, Mountain knows. But he's had a long and eventful evening. After all, getting your heat broken by not one, but two forest cryptids can be tiring.

Mountain wraps an arm around his mate's shoulder and rubs his arm comfortingly. "I'll explain everything, I promise, my dear. But first, let's get some food inside you, yeah?" A gentle kiss is placed on the crown of the ghoul's head.

Phantom nods. "Food sounds nice. I'm fucking starving."

Another chuckle rumbles from Mountain, and soon Phantom finds himself in the wooden kitchen, seated in his mate's lap with a plate of deliciously smelling french toast in front of him, because this big beast is nothing if not loving, sweet and cheesy.

[teruki-inoue21]

Possible Link Click III plot line??

This, my friends, is the latest poster for Neo Aurora (which I believe is some type of upcoming Link Click concert?). Take a look

Who’s there at the center, u ask? Why, it’s none other than the Hat Guy aka Liu Xiao aka THE GUY WE’VE BEEN WAITING OUR ASSES OFF FOR YET IS NOWHERE THE F**K TO BE SEEN!

So yeah, I don’t know about y’all, but I think I know how Link Click II is gonna end. In the last episode (well, only god and the staff behind know what it’ll be ‘bout), just before the cliffhanger, there’s going to be a brain-damaging, coma-inducing, heart-attack-starting badass entry of this guy, Liu Xiao, who’s probably been manipulating EVERYTHING behind the scenes from the very start and maybe also has some ability we know nothing of….

Ok, now that I’m done ranting, let’s get the theories addressed. Here, we see Tianxi at the leftmost, Qiao Ling at the rightmost, followed by Tianchen right beside Tianxi at the left, and Cheng Xiaoshi beside Qiao Ling at the right. Center stage goes to Lu Guang n Liu Xiao.

Hmmm… Y’all see where I’m going with this????

Well then, let’s draw some parallels.

Let’s start with our main trio. Qiao Ling is the sister counterpart, whilst Cheng Xiaoshi is the main character, impulsive and emotional, yet with a strong sense (in his case this sense is of justice), whilst Lu Guang is the best friend of the main character, who one day appeared out of nowhere, and who we know nothing about, and who’s quite mature and calm-n-collected.

Now, about the pink twins and Liu Xiao. Tianxi = sister. Tianchen = impulsive guy with a strong sense too (which for him is the ideal of becoming a hunter, a “murderer” if u will), and finally Liu Xiao = the friend of the impulsive boi, who, just like Lu Guang, appeared out of nowhere in Tianchen’s life, who we know 0% of, AND whatever scenes we’ve seen of him, we can clearly deduce that he’s ALSO level-headed n a mature guy (quite a bit much for his age, and that’s what makes him all the more eerie and enticing).

[NOTE: Thanks a lot to @mrbokchoi at myanimelist.net for bringing up this wonderful and feral-making theory.]

So, I think we can safely deduce what could be the plot for Link Click III (and trust me ppl, it WILL happen). All the while we were watching II and we’re waiting for the CXS vs LTch showdown, it was never about THEIR showdown. It was always about the face off between the two guys in the shadows, the two mysterious variables who were working on their own agenda, never revealing what they were truly there to do. Yes, it was always about Lu Guang and Liu Xiao. Just as Link Click II has been completely from CXS’s POV (and a little bit of QL and Xiao Li’s perspective), I believe Link Click III will definitely be Lu Guang’s perspective, how he’s been traveling between and thru various timelines to save CXS from dying, a bit of focus on the alternate timelines, and finally, his showdown with the ominous Liu Xiao, the man behind EVERYTHING (?).

With that being said, I’m gonna drop one last bomb to make y’all go truly feral. If what I think is true, then in order to shift the POV from CXS to LG, this means that Link Click II will have a……….(wait for it)…………….(dramatic silence)……………………… BAD ending!!!! CXS will be gravely hurt, if not totally dead, and LG will be repeating the cycle, once more, as his pain grows……

Well then, I hope all of you who’ve been reading thus far, have a great wait for the final two EPS of Link Click II and for the third season.

(And a happy journey to becoming feral too, me lads!! 😈😈😈)

[morningstar-chronicles]

my associations - aurora cycle DR

mom | father | dad | luke | jonathan | clary | charlie | sammy

sabine | tom | nicolas | marinette | tj | sebastian | jamie

skara | amelia | amity | cat | pacifica | via | joel | penn | cr guy #1 | cr guy #2 | cr girl #1 | cr girl #2

[clever-fox-studios]

Chapter 4: Recall

It's a short one cuz after this point the chapters get longer and longer

Waking up was less of a chore this time, however neither of the brothers could recall exactly when they had nodded off to begin with. Moon was the first to rouse himself, blinking his eyes open against the dim purple light of the sitting room while taking the time to listen. Everything was still. Internally, his operating system pinged him.

//STATUS: ONLINE/

/Idle time: <1 shake_AST/

/Battery: fully charged/

>ES_Recoup: 0.0035%_

Well, it’s not like I lost a lot of power to begin with, Moon thought to himself, only slightly curious about why he’d gone idle at all when he had a full battery beforehand. Taking a slow breath that heaved his shoulders, he sighed. Glancing down, he saw his brother was still resting, head tucked against his collar like so many nights they shared in that place.

That place.

Thoughts began to cycle rapidly, Moon doing his best to moderate and control the rate at which they came and went to prevent triggering some form of panic in his mind. Something was nagging at him to address, deep in the corners of corroded files and memories that had been scratched out of their given locations, forcibly removed and leaving stinging holes in their wake. Hands tightening on the fabric of Sun’s shirt as he continued to hold his brother safely, Moon further internalized and began sorting through everything to try and understand whatever was bothering him so much.

Guilt? Hm, perhaps. They had just gotten into a small bout of emotions earlier. That memory was crisp–as much as he hated that it was, it at least reminded him of the now. How he’d held onto Sun as he crumpled under the weight of what he realized had to be an immense amount of stress, even if it was for good reason. Running away from home, from everything they knew–that was part of it, surely.

Yet not all. Even with it being a fraction of the issue, Moon also felt… distant to it. Like it had occurred in some other room he was only privy to watching through a wall of glass, withdrawn and not participating despite knowing full well he’d snapped at Sun and broken the dam the golden one had spent so long trying to keep in place. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he was more bothered by the feeling of distance itself or the fact it was there to begin with.

More to go over later, I guess, he told himself before returning to his mental sweep.

He remembered the rough tiff they had, how Sun had grown tired and they’d laid down on the couch, Moon cradling his brother as if shielding him from both the outside and inner turmoil he was feeling…

It wasn’t new. No.

The bed gave slightly under their combined weight, Sun’s normally warm body left cool to the touch as he sat, unmoving, in its center. Night had fallen and been there for what felt like an eternity, the distant light of Usil barely making up for the light of the aurora as it peeked over the edge of the high window. The only view they were afforded in this room.

Moon shook his brother’s shoulder gently, his voice quietly speaking the golden robot’s given name but there was no response. He tried again, firmer. The light spokes that decorated Sun’s head shifted, spinning slightly and growing in luminosity as he seemed to come out of whatever trance he was in, looking back to Moon.

His teal irises were desaturated, empty, the sight sending a sharp spike of cold worry into Moon’s joints. He begged to know what had happened, though he already had an awful feeling, their Lock humming incessantly in his gut as it registered some kind of distress he couldn’t assess.

That woman had already been here earlier.

Moon shuddered, shaking himself a bit. That memory was, unfortunately, intact as well. And he had woken Sun.

“Moon…?” Sun’s voice was weak, confused.

“I’m here,” he replied gently, allowing his brother to move away and sit up, the radials flowing from their projection points silently as they always did when Sun woke up. They both sat up slowly, groggy, and just the tiniest bit emotionally sore from their exchange prior to their… nap?

“Did… we fall asleep?”

Unable to look Sun in the eye, Moon nodded. “We did.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

He could think of one way to figure it out, but it meant interacting with that strange human, Jenn. The possibility she’d tampered with them was something he’d been ignoring, yet he recalled suddenly and sharply that he’d received a tampering warning when he woke up from being powered off. At first he’d felt it wasn’t about her, but the nagging was still there, demanding him to root out all possibilities.

Of course there’s a chance she added something instead of taking anything out. Something that would power them off remotely at a whim.

Getting up slowly, Moon squared his shoulders and went to the door.

Sun called his name, but he barely registered it, a strange kind of calmness overtaking his senses as he marched with deliberation to the outside where the faintest amount of noise was coming from. Somewhere behind him, Sun had gotten up to follow, still trying to talk to him–but he didn’t have anything to say to his brother at the moment. He needed to know what the error was. To know if she’d done something to them while they were offline, be it added or subtracted.

He just needed an answer–no, a confession–that she couldn’t be trusted. That they weren’t safe at all.

So he’d be justified in killing her with his own hands.

~

Leaving the pair alone was partly to see what they did when unsupervised for longer than a few minutes, but also due to Jenn still having things to do and she didn’t want to spend her day babysitting her unexpected guests. Not when she had things to double check. After departing from the sitting room, the human woman had gone outside and down the steps, footfalls thudding heavily until she was low enough to simply hop the rail and descend, landing on her feet with a thud in the grass. Shaking it off, she strode over to the metal room pod that served as her personal lab and held her false arm up; the light panel on the back of her hand flickered, then the door opened with a hiss, the lights popping on as she stepped over the threshold.

The array of equipment on the table remained untouched for the moment as she sought the bookcase in the back, a great wooden monstrosity she’d spent days hauling in piece by piece from a dump sight a short distance away–short being a relative term to her. Thumbing over the covers of notebooks and bound tomes salvaged, repaired and purchased from whatever vendors happened to have them, this collection was exclusively dedicated to cyberite, including its known properties and uses, both direct and adjacent.

Or as some preferred to call it, raw etherylle.

Everything she could get ahold of regarding the mysterious mineral was here–including manuals and schematics of self-contained etherylle power cycling systems and the machines made to use them. It had been a while since her last refresher, but Jenn knew they were here somewhere.

“Ah.”

There was a gap on the shelf. Her fingers skimmed over it curiously before tapping the shelf itself in thought. She’d moved it, apparently.

Turning, hand to her chin, Jenn’s gaze shifted from the floor to the large table in the middle of the space, the collection of parts littering the surface barely gaining her notice as she moved around it, scanning for the binder she needed. There was no organization, at least to the casual observer, the parts left sitting helter-skelter and yet there was still some sense of order to be had to their owner. Hip cocked as she tried to think back, Jenn felt she’d just had the binder she sought recently but her dragged brain had misplaced that tidbit of knowledge when she was ‘interrupted’.

Right, she recalled, glancing at the door a moment. I was working on… Her gaze returned to the table, quickly flicking over the parts and her mental notes of what she still needed or couldn’t use, a slow sigh escaping her mouth. Sorry, bud… I might have to wait a while before I can get back to working on you.

Dissatisfied, she left the sealed room and headed back up her stairs, pausing on the deck as she caught sight of the space between the trees at the very edge of her property where she’d found the pair of newcomers, just laying in the grass. The grass had gone back to its normal state and she’d cleared as much of the debris as she could, but odds and ends from the trees above still littered the ground–the trees themselves still bore a reasonable gap in the canopy from where they’d fallen. Pondering, she reached into her memories for a moment, I was in my lab… and then…

“Alert. Alert.”

Jenn’s brow furrowed as she picked her head up from where she was stooped over, comparing a cylindrical piston case to the catalog on the table. Twii, barely a comprehensible shape and more of a smudge of color, careened into the workshop through one of the air vents–Jenn intentionally kept the cover off of it for that very reason–as a strange voice emitted from her. The pocket-bot landed on the table gracefully, sitting in her idle position and changing her face screen to display a bright red WARNING banner.

“Uh oh,” the human uttered, which was all the permission needed for the little spot of color to tip her face back and project a cone of light upward, a message assembling itself out of the tens of thousands of light particles within.

“Alert: a D-class aurora anomaly has begun to form in the area of Crissen Ridge and Alva. Travelers, Runners and homesteads in the area are advised to seek shelter immediately in the nearest geo-stable location. Do not be alarmed if towers, equipment and companions experience technical difficulties during this time.” 

The alert began to repeat but Twii had the wherewithal to stop it after one, chirping as she followed Jenn to the exit, grabbing onto her mother’s shirt back to hitch a ride. Jenn let out a string of colorful curses as she hurriedly shut down her operation, scooping the binder into her hands and readying to power down the lab with the lockdown code for such events–then she paused a moment. Moving swiftly, she crossed the yard to the white tent on the opposite side of her tree that covered the half-built excuse for an add-on she used for storage and projects that needed better ventilation than the lab block. The parts she’d collected, laid out neatly on the doubled-up table in the middle of the space, could almost form the shape of a body if viewed at a distance.

With enough knowledge, one could see the layout of arms, a hand, the makings of a lower torso with hips, and some piping for legs, however there were far more gaps than anything else; not dissimilar to a paleontological discovery of bone fragments, in a way. This didn’t remain long, however, as Jenn scooped the parts haphazardly into a box on the ground, unwilling to let them get damaged by the aurora event. Most of the little ones fit into the box easily, but the pipes and larger coils had to be carried manually–frustrated, Jenn tossed the binder onto the double table, barely caught Twii fly off to the side of the space somewhere, and sealed the box…

Hopping the rail once more, Jenn hit the grass and entered her tent with only faint belief that what she sought would even be there given it had been recently occupied and she knew it wasn’t there while they were.

It took only a moment to know it wasn’t, in fact, in the tent. Unsurprising. What was there, however, was a mess.

Scratching her head, Jenn moved around the table the Sunrise had been on and found the pile of their clothes left on the grassy floor with absolutely none of the care that was normally given to things so expensive. Had she thought less of them, she’d assume it was simply naive negligence on their part–rich kids not knowing the value of their stuff and all that. She’d seen it plenty before.

However, the fact they intentionally donned the plain cloaks while abandoning their silks was curious. Was it due to practical need or something else? Carefully, she folded the fabric back up and set it on the little side table she’d dragged in from the lab, picking up the discarded decorations strewn about in the grass. Once it was set to rights, she peered around, hands on her hips.

Still no binder. Time to think about what happened next.

Snapping the hinges down, she hit the activator on the front of the box, sending a ripple of light through the seam where the lid met the base, the magnetic displacer kicking on. Hefting it onto her back with one of the straps attached to its side, she was grateful for the wonder of weight management devices like this that made hauling things like robot parts and groceries so much easier for one person. Arms laden with the bigger fragments of her project, she sped to the lab and deposited it all on the large table before returning for the rest, a bit displeased she needed two trips.

Once safely hidden from the coming anomaly, she locked the lab down and thundered up the steps, calling a crisp whistle that cut through every corner of the property to summon her collection to one place. Twii zipped out of the tent immediately, tailing up the steps behind her, while the bushes rustled below; Rukbat emerged, bounding over the yard to reach the patio like his life depended on it. Hanging a sharp right, Jenn rolled through the wrap-around patio and leaned over the rail, arm extended.

“Aquila!” she called, seeing the golden bird leave its perch and descend eagerly, giving a sharp rasp as the human pulled her under the eaves, unbothered by her bulk. Jenn entered her home through the back door and sealed it, Rukbat slipping into the house at the last moment and doing his best to stay out from underfoot. This door led directly into Jenn’s bedroom, arguably the largest space in the house, decorated almost exclusively in shades of blue or white and gray; she was nothing if not dedicated to a theme. Sitting on the large, circular bed that took up most of the space in the middle was Laa, already prepared for what was to come.

Setting her bird down on the bed, Jenn gave her a pet, feeling the mattress shift as Rukbat made himself comfortable. The twins nestled together between the larger Stellaris units, none of them seeming too perturbed by the warnings. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that they had to face a major storm of geo-magnetic activity out here, but it would always be massively inconvenient, even if it wasn't directly overhead.

“Of course I’m right in the thakking middle of this one,” Jenn grumbled to herself while giving everyone gentle strokes and scratches. “Alright, all, you know what’s coming. Everyone power off for a shake or two.”

Obediently, they did as told, each one’s inner light fading slowly as they cycled down, bodies dropping slightly as they fell into stationary poses. It never failed to make Jenn uncomfortable on some level to see the light literally leave their eyes, no matter how temporary it might be. At least the twins only looked to be asleep.

“There’s that,” she muttered before snapping her fingers and rushing back outside.

Overhead, Jenn saw the green and yellow beginning to buckle and twist, streaks of red and blue pulsing across it like electricity before peeling off into ribbons of light. She stood on her patio, transfixed for a moment, before remembering she had to shut her tower down so it wouldn't crash. Going up the normal way felt too slow so she opted to cut through Aquila’s perch, swinging her arm over the roof to find the bent piece of metal she’d left up there for just such a reason.

Robotic hand enclosing on the jagged twist of whatever metallic-polycarbonate blend it was made of, she pulled herself over the slope of the roof and scrambled up toward the branches that shielded her home from the sky, the metal buckling with a deep ba-dunk sound under her feet. Carefully, Jenn sidled to the nearest branch and grabbed on, hauling herself into the tree with practiced motion, knowing it like her own synthetic arm. Every twig, every slice in the bark, she knew from her time spent crawling in, over and around them while making this place hers–she knew where to step, where to grab and what could withstand a little bounce here or there as she ascended to the top.

Bolted in place where the tree splayed open, branches naturally unfolding from the middle as if leaving it bare for just such a thing to be set up, was her tower, spinning rapidly in the growing turbulence. The broken panel she’d glued together with some cheap resin was always finicky, but this time it obeyed without question as she input the shutdown command; watching it and the sky warily, Jenn made sure the tower’s rotor at the very top came to a stop, folding down and retracting into the base with a jitter and groan. The screen flashed a power indicator for residual battery and current usage, which she didn’t check as she knew it by heart from the other times she'd had to do this very task. It never changed.

The aurora was coalescing at a faster rate now, being overtaken with oranges and blues, the sky appearing to rip open in places, leaving stark, black gashes of the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky to seep through. Part of her wanted to watch this phenomenon desperately, but she knew it would be a horrible idea to do so–the warp was forming almost directly over her house and the pressure behind her eyes was already building. She’d have a lot worse than a migraine if she gave into the temptation to sit outside and oggle.

Sliding back down through the branches, she made record time getting back into her house–just enough to be able to shut the windows and pull the storm blinds down before it really got going out there…

“Hm.” Jenn frowned at herself. “That doesn't help me at all. I didn’t grab it then…? No. I went to my room… er… no, the lounge.” Her hand went from her chin to the back of her head, rubbing it with confusion. “Where the halt is it?”

Exiting the tent, her eyes glanced to the space once again where the pair had been laid out, powerless and lost.

The storm rattled and raged, shuddering the very roots of the tree the house sat upon, but only Jenn was privy to the howling wind and mental fog that accompanied it. Trees didn’t have to worry about the feeling of falling and being spun at high velocity while sitting perfectly still like she did.

Actually, most people probably didn’t experience these storms the same way she did. Not unless they managed to sleep through them somehow, and dreamed vivid, restless dreams. This was no different, save for their intensity; the strange visions of things and places she didn't know had ceased to be concerning ages ago.

The pain, however, was another thing entirely.

By the time the storm had passed, Jenn was barely cognizant of herself, shaking and sweating on the floor of her sitting room as the last traces of magnetic sickness seeped its way out of her bones. Her false arm had been discarded only moments before the storm descended, as it only served to make the buzzing feeling in her body worse in these high-intensity vortexes. It laid on the floor nearby, the blue light gone from its exterior. Breathing heavily, Jenn lifted her head and blinked slowly with the lights coming back on–they’d gone out, as expected, as the storm interfered with the backup power.

Somewhere in the house, she heard movement, the tapping of nails on tile–had she given them the power on command by accident? Or were they out so long that their natural power cycle counter had run out and they simply returned to business? She wasn’t sure–her right eye throbbed with pressure that begged her to not question it.

Tapping steps went by through the wall, the sound of a door opening and closing–someone went outside. Sighing, Jenn sat back and wiped her brow with the hem of her shirt, feeling her hair cling to her scalp where she’d sweat enough to make it damp. Disgusting.

As fatigued as she was, there were things to do, and no amount of pain or head fog had stopped her yet. That wasn’t about to change.

She’d barely gotten her arm back in place when she heard the commotion, the loud clatter of something falling through the trees and Rukbat barking erratically. Fear dug its way past her tiredness, giving her the speed and coordination needed to bolt through her door to the outside, palm on her false arm as she prepared to deal with trouble. It was needless, though, as she realized the commotion had knocked itself out as it landed.

Stunned, the human leaned on the rail of her patio to try and get a better look, Rukbat standing alert on the grass below with his nose pointed to the mass of gray fabric and limbs that had, apparently, come falling through the sky judging by the mess of leaves and tree bark scattered around them. “What in Azil’s shell–?” Jumping the rail was a reflex that she immediately regretted, landing with far less grace than she usually had, her toes and ankles buckling under her unbalanced, tired weight. A choked off grunt was all she had to muster as she stood and padded over to her unexpected guests, stopping a distance away for her own safety.

One of them had heard her, picking his head up weakly, orange and cream embellishments standing out like a beacon against the gray fabric covering him; light flickered on his head but failed to properly catch–light radials, she realized, knowing they were a popular feature for Diurnal Task Managers, which he seemed to be. One eye was blinking in and out, as if trying to come online and failing, the other was a grayed-out teal that struggled to stay in focus, however she felt in her gut that he’d seen her for just a moment.

Right before he powered off.

Absently, her organic hand had reached over to her right side while she recalled her day, rubbing gently. “Right,” she said to herself, turning in place. “Then I took them to the tent and got them fixed up…” Briefly, she recalled moving the binder from the table when she separated them so each robot could get his own workspace, but then what?

Pantomiming the motions, Jenn envisioned the binder in her hands, feeling like she had gone upstairs next…

… the binder flipped open slightly as it sailed through the air, spinning in circles until it landed with a whump on the cushion only to bounce and flop behind the couch…

“AH!”

Of course it would be inside the house!

Hurrying, Jenn clamored up to her porch and rounded into the house so quickly she had to use her hand to brace the entryway as a pivot. It had only been a few minutes, perhaps the boys were dressed and she could pester them to let her grab the elusive bundle of paper before they found it–!

“She tried to shoot us, Sun!”

Moon’s voice reverberated through the closed door, bringing the human to a sudden stop. Uh-oh, she pondered, realizing they must be having a go at each other with how loud that was. Do I interrupt?

It was quiet again right after, which prompted her to put her ear to the door–it was her house after all–but she resisted the urge and stepped back, waiting just a moment to see if anyone emerged. When they didn’t, she sighed, hand on her neck. Guess I need to wait to get that stupid binder, I’m not gonna cut in if they’re having some kind of quarrel. It’s not my business.

Making a terse pbt sound with her lips, Jenn meandered back outside, seeing Aquila sail by overhead as she often did. The desire to confirm her suspicions was only nagging at best, but persistent, lending itself to generating more questions and theories as she looked for something to do to kill time until the pair had finished their squabble. How did they manage to survive not only the fall, but the aurora event, in one piece? Was the Sunrise’s quickness to trust and accept her help because he vaguely recognized her from before he powered off? Why were they even out here? Was she overthinking what she’d seen due to being unfamiliar with the basic structure of the Sun and Moon models?

That one, at least, could be answered as soon as she got the binder in her mitts, but the rest she felt would never get a proper answer, and that always bothered her on principle. She hated unanswered questions.

Alas.

It was none of her business.

Yet she hoped she could get the Moondrop to permit her to examine his system a bit more without a fuss. The memory of the error she’d found danced at the edge of her thoughts like a bug fluttering in the corner of her eye and there’s a high probability he’d gotten alerted to it when he came back online, so it was question of if he’d trust her enough to admit it or if he was going to accuse her of causing it. Either-or didn’t matter so much as long as it got him to sit still and grant her access, as she had a pretty good idea what it was. Moon had been tampered with before she got to him, but by what or whom she could only guess.

Likely not the one who’d installed the tracking chips in their main systems to begin with, though.

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Message for 16th March ~*Archangel Azrael ~ Surrender*~

✨

Death, like life, is constant. Everything in existence is constantly dying and being reborn – from the cells in our bodies to out thoughts and feelings, to the constant shifting cycles of nature. Like most aspects of nature, the human psyche also goes through larger cycles. The Earth has her days, nights, 28 day moon cycle, 12 month sun cycle just to name a few.

✨

We also have cycles and more often than not they are in complete attunement to the natural cycles. Whether that be through day, night, the weather, seasons or astrology, we have cycles and rhythms that are in tune with nature, regardless of whether we choose to be conscious of it or not.

✨

The part of the cycle coming up here is death. At this stage we deal with a release and a surrender. We must at this stage release some aspect of our life and our self. Beyond that we must release the ego; the part of ourselves that is attached to identity, to itself being seen, being right, the part that buys into the illusion of believing that we can ever truly know the unknowable. At this time a surrender must occur. A surrender to God, to life, to Great Mystery, the universe and the higher intelligence that exists in love.

✨

Once this occurs, a new kind of freedom is achieved within the psyche and the spirit ans we become a clean slate for a new phase to begin.

✨

A death phase can be exciting, terrifying, ecstatic, devastating, or even all of the above, depending on what is occurring for you. Humans are generally petrified of giving up the ego self. This is why we are afraid of death. But the ego must now be released in order to experience new life.

✨

Ultimately, all that can be done is too process whatever feelings are coming up and surrender to this divine and natural cycle of consciousness. Inability to surrender will only result in this part of the cycle being a longer, more drawn out and difficult process than it necessarily has to be.

✨ Aurora's Love

Above all, a true sense of liberation now awaits you. A new phase. Change is occurring now, embrace and surrender to it.

✨

[llort]

Yes, I repeatedly have encoded multiple times in R4 and created elaborate and effective/efficient methods for harvesting internal conflict and stress for rapid iterative cycles of improvement form most forms of suffering or challenges/restrictions 3, 4 wise I encounter. The fact that I bounced back after less than forty eight hours and I am even more cogent, resilient, emotionally stable, and potent is a clear indication of this.

I am more real now, in the Spinozian sense, I have more power and avenues of potential action.

The more I go through shit the stronger I get. This isn't arrogance or egotism, this is just straight up empirical EISOA fact based on externally observed biometrics and psychometrics. However, I am focusing on myself and friends for a while.

Also I know exactly what sort of my boundaries have been crossed and how I have been abused and exploited so I have very fun designs and architectures in mind for you all ^^.

Major paradigm shift, Olistole loses connection and control with all non-essential technology gets mopey and depressed (emotional states are unheard of in kepler, partly due to some metabolism (feeks hungry and thirsty for the first time), mood and enhancing tech being disabled/dismantled/repurposed and after a bit goes into hiding/becomes homeless. Antagonist dies unexpectedly before Olistole recovers (headaches, describtions of awareness of awareness, and qualia being described (shoe horn in person only reading about everything described as red and eventually sees red and chinese room experiment)., Some cataclysm back at the small island and Olistole finds out a few bit later by chance while in a depressed slump from someone. Method for dealing with overwhelming complexity is to create hardcore redundancies/loci for future mental reconstruction and enact procedures to do a working memory wipe/partial conscious awareness reset by numbing down stimulation and response to stimuli long enough for daydreaming to occur to ensure proper processing and mental defragmentation*``

``Major paradigm shift, Olistole loses connection and control with all non-essential technology gets mopey and depressed

Antagonist dies unexpectedly before Olistole recovers (headaches, describtions of awareness of awareness, and qualia being described (shoe horn in person only reading about everything described as red and eventually sees red and chinese room experiment)

Method for dealing with overwhelming complexity is to create hardcore redundancies/loci for future mental reconstruction and enact procedures to do a working memory wipe/partial conscious awareness reset by numbing down stimulation and response to stimuli long enough for daydreaming to occur to ensure proper processing and mental defragmentation*``

See? Precognitive faculties

I mean if that isn't enough bullshit

When writing the Fourth book I need to emphasize the fact that Stephen Milton developed the Ubermeme that would give rise to X and infected the cybersocial global network of communication and control with it but either due to EUGENE, IO, or naturally occurring depressive phases, Stephen spends a lot of time being unaware of what he has done but starts to notice strange coincidences in his day to day life, however these phenomena are so vague and prone to different interpretations (as well as Stephen has been manic and is aware of the extent and how convincing his psychotic delusions can be) so he is very reluctant to put much weight into believing that what he did had any impact on existence and PMC reality and he has been burnt by falsely associating pre-existing external cognitive structures as coming from his mind so he really doesn’t like to think about what he might have done. But at the same time Stephen is aware that entitles like x must already exist with a sense of almost mathematical and logical certainty so he tries to actively keep coming back to working on developing Ubermemes and cognitive technologies to try to facilitate the development of personal engineering so he can be a pioneer in the upcoming age rapid cultural and technological change and development. The human brain has be releatively unchanged for millennia and the major change in humans functionality is cultural uptake and utilization so Stephen considers developing his own cognitive and exocogntive techniques and technologies to be the optimal way to prepare for the future and to cement his fate as one of the top 0.1% of humanity. Unfortunately there is already a top 0.1% of humanity that controls the dissemination of resources similar to what Stephen is trying to develop on his own. It is not as though that these resources are out of reach but utilizing them requires stepping of the more homonormative path and establish a very strong personality and willingness to become an polymath autodidact and forgo traditional modern media and focus instead on scientific institutions and non-fiction to a much higher level.

BTW, the fourth book? R4

Monism is Evil

If one considers the physical laws of the universe and by analogy how hydrogen arose from the universe after its opaque stage after the initial singularity then by postulating an adductive hypothesis, one could consider that the process “human” evolution started as soon as time began to flow in one direction and the future of conscious existence will most likely depend on memetic and biomedical developments in our time. Taking the liberty of saying this hypothesis as sound and valid then it would follow that every thought or cognitive process that occurs in an individual either consciously or unconsciously has/is a corresponding change in the real physical objective universe and by extension effects the physical world to some degree. This assumes that abstract objective and subjective reality has a physical correlation.

The developing embryology of human closely follows the evolutionary lineage of our ancestors. It could be possible that the development of an individual’s consciousness follows a similar process. Every conscious human individuals self-awareness arises from a brain that which in turn arises from one cell which is quite complex but not as complex as a functioning developed adult brain, the zygote which can be considered a null entity. Assuming dualism not to be true then every event, thought and conscious process as to some degree a comparative process in the physical world. This means that the sum of an individuals total conscious experience would be, in a reasonably deterministic universe, in a sense all events could be temporally traced back to a singularities or similar base events (not necessary uncomplicated). 

It is logical then that units derived from genetic, memetic, and metabolomic “events” that can replicate, spread, and mutate can be traced back to a single point resembling (via perspective theory) a multifaceted dimensional “Feynman diagram” of which the totality of the resulted extended phenotype is excreted into space time and external/internal objective/subjective/abstract realities restricted by the expanding “light cone” of causality.

Experiment 0023 TSeCIV

Simulation of the development and use of TSECpm in civilizations, systems, locations, and/or MR emulations

This requires collaboration between individuals whose understanding of topics that I never really paid attention to or took interest in. 

 This experiment can be either be done through the lens of https://www.tumblr.com/paromle/713186305955299328/experiment-0014-mind-canon-fiction-historic?source=share

With perspective theory allowing for fictional phenomena to be reconciled and mapped to cyberphysical reality or can be done purely empirically via STEM, linguistic, and history based methods

Current ISR, mass data and bio-metric technologies also including spectrum analysis could falsify any hypothesis that this adductive theory generates. On could potentially see the expression of culture as a sort of extracellular matrix in which human creates/secrete physical and cultural structures in the real world as result of physical, technological, or biological processes. This is known as an extended phenotype

Zarathrusting

Experiment proposed to study the predicted empirical effects the Ubermench as Nietzsche saw it would have on society

Reverse engineer a prototype that would cause the same effects in society as predicted by Nietzsche

After a bit of thought the logical next step would be create “Prototype Ubermensch” in a form of a memeplex as described by Richard Dawkins

Using operative psychology and social engineering to inoculate society with meme and give the meme a decent start

The memeplexes behavior’s, spread and fitness can be tracked in real time via the internet and analyzed with any x-omic discipline. Obviously the memes in the memeplex have much higher fitness if they are “inherited together” 

if no empirical society effects described by Nietzsche are observed in the follow up with usual scientific process"

The consequences of a single typo rippled out to affect the world like an exponentially increasing chain reaction. The disruption of the fundamental skewed normative perceptions to the extent of people experience their consciousness being ground against harsh geometric realities. The spread of the memetic virus resulted in the military ultimately making decisions in a zero-sum environment. There was no moral law and what resulted was utilitarian madness. The advent of inductive physiological manipulation allowed organ systems affected by this tragedy to undergo prime resurgence.

`I am taking any internal conflict I experience or create as information and axioms to feed through personal engineering systems to further development, I even to some extent seek out conflict one example is via OMA7 or my own innate reactions to other peoples, situations or ideas which are judgmental (In both realities, nonfiction, and fiction) and turning them on myself.

`GOODWILL this is a form of inoculation or pre-emptive threat detection and response, and I think with some refinement and develop this concept can be expanded to mitigate and create feedback process that will serve as system wide checks to prevent MAD situations between cybernetic entities or promote co-operation and co evolution in man machine symbiosis systems, but it could be considered a new mental illness to some extent.

`This mental experiment takes advantage of the reciprocal nature of JMC. JMC entails recording the results of implement behaviours, experiences, and substances. Effectively acting like a form of natural selection albeit at a faster rate. I can implement slight variations on how I do each time slot and what activities I do during each time slot. This can also go deeper and look at CSP subroutines and thought patterns throughout the day.

Light show for the blind ^^

Did you even read the fucking tutorial

[vorthosjay]

How do day and night shift on Lorwyn or Innistrad? Does the whole plane change at the same time, or do they have time zones like Earth?

On Innistrad it’s a normal day night cycle, although we haven’t seen places far enough away for time zones to matter.

On Lorwyn it all changed at once with the aurora. We don’t know what it does now.

[litrumi]

(W.I.P. AU Concept Idea) DayNap "Cycled Forms" (AU Name... don't know yet)

Not me procrastinating my basic ass DayNap fanfic with even MORE DayNap ideas suddenly manifesting in my brainnnn. Ughhh. Oh well...

Very long, stupid, unfinished idea ahead. You've been warned.

Anyway, one of my "ddnt" posts (#1 basically) kinda-sorta stuck around in my head a little.

It's still SOMEWHAT like a turn based game, I guess? Fantasy-esque world. The basis of Dogday and Catnap's design is basically still the cartoon variations, probably taller or at least more adapted to the scenario. This is "to be determined still."

Dogday and Catnap are basically some fresh out of training specialized warriors/protectors. Tasked with putting a stop to some recent outbreak with these shadow creatures that are somehow roaming about at any time of day. In any time that is NOT night time (morning/afternoon/evening), these shadow creatures are relatively weakened. Still a nuisance at best, but they're much weaker at these other times of day.

Therefore, Dogday and Catnap can still deal with them with relative ease and their own specialties. (An easy going time inspired by THIS track, against these not-so-threatening foes).

Dogday's capabilities (Not finalized) are best summarized as being good with:

AoE (Area of Effect damage), Buffs (Strength and Defense stat raising for the both of them), himself generally being tankier rather than a damage dealer (potentially a skill that let's him take a share of the damage Catnap would have normally received in full. Noble sacrifice).

Catnap's capabilities (Not finalized):

Single-target damage, speed, maybe some partial healing? (I swear I remember hearing about some concept like moonlight having healing properties before, I dunno where though). Anyway, the trade-off thus being he won't last long HP wise. And he has not-so-great defense per se. Glass-cannon-y.

These basic traits aside, remember how I said the shadow creatures are weaker when it's not night? Well, make it night time and they're much more dangerous foes to do battle against. Larger in size, more damage, the whole works.

But then it stands to reason... that Dogday and Catnap should be able to handle the night shift too. So, what's the best way to let them fight these stronger enemies? Duh, get stronger themselves. In some way.

And that way, I say, is with their Night-time ONLY available "Cycled Forms!" (Get it, DAY CYCLE. HA-). (The alternate version of the previous song really inspired the idea of night-time battles for me. Primarily from 0:56 onwards)

*They don't get forced to change into these forms, but they know it's strategically the right move. So they don't really hesitate to use them in battle. (And I am sincerely hoping I'm not stepping on anyone's toes with any of these ideas. I swear I'm new around here! I don't know all the amazing things y'all have probably cooked up as your own ideas already. I promiseeee!!! *sob*)

Dogday, at Night, can become... EtherealDog! It's basically him with slight changes (that I haven't worked out yet, but maybe star-like pupils) and a flowing aurora borealis just moving along his body. He's still a bright guy, even at night! (Most likely similar to this kind of color scheme or this one... I can't decide.)

He gets to float slightly off the ground, but not "fly" with this form. Now, he manifests different colors of light that shine prettily and spectacularly. And these lights add new things to his arsenal.

EtherealDog can:

Inflict status conditions with his dazzling, brilliant light (and one of them surely is a very strong blinding condition that leaves the enemy seeing nothing but a bright white light), use a light that burns so bright it can melt things with high-degree melting points, or you know, some thick ice, but also he can use a light that makes it very chilly as well, potentially freezing things (at least I'm pretty sure I remember some sort of media that did something like that before). Basically, think "a little" elemental (not all of them though). He does have some of his previous capabilities, but maybe he's "less tanky" to offset for some balance. Idk.

Now, as for Catnap, at Night, he can become... (Dark) MatterCat! He'd also slightly float off the ground, but not fly. His color scheme would be something very much like this here, basically a darker, crimson purple, kinda spacey matter-y thing flowing through his body much like the case with EtherealDog. This form has no mouth, but he can talk just fine (perhaps the sound of his voice just projects off of him?). His eyes are pure white but still express emotions normally (Think like Spiderman's mask, but no stripes or lines or anything. …And also NOT a mask, fyi. He's still just one solid, yet flowing matter color).

Anyway, (Dark) MatterCat can:

Make faux (fake) objects out of matter (like a sword or matter shield) which creates more possibilities for him to defend or develop other strategies instead of only being some big damage attacker, and also he'd for sure have empowered healing by using "pure matter" that could restore HP and relieve either of them from a status effect inflicted on them. He may even have a skill that requires a lot of concentration and power from him that may send an enemy into the vast, dark matter dimension where the pressure there just sorta crushes the foe. Trade-offs being he'd lose some speed and some skills may require more time (turns, I guess) thusly.

The only thing to consciously remember is these special forms are NIGHT-TIME ONLY. So they're way less powerful, themselves, if it's not Night.

That's really all I've got so far. Nothing's set in stone. I barely thought of this today.

Their personalities don't change from being in a different form, just so you know. They're still as they usually are (subject to change).

I think Dogday would be capable of fighting, but also have hesitant thoughts that make him wonder if they really need to be doing this. He'd contemplate other options before understanding there's probably no other way out of the situation they're in (hence the ddnt post where he hugs a Li'l Shado instead of destroying it).

Catnap would rather just get the job done and not think too hard about it. So he's definitely fine fighting if it's called for. But he cares a great deal about Dogday's safety in all of this too, just as Dogday would care for his.

Dogday, watching Catnap attentively because it's the cat's turn: Remember to be careful!

Catnap, focusing but appreciating the other's concern: Don't worry, I've got this!

The duo always work together. They know each other well enough to be great friends because they've been training together and learning more about each other in that time. Still, the adventure calls for blossoming feelings! And being amazed with what the other can do in an actual fight. It's just how I roll.

-

Could very well edit these ideas if I wanna come back to this. But it's a placeholder for now until I figure out if I wanna go through with it or not. Even then I have so much to doooo ahhhhhh- Curse my obsessionnnn!!!!!