#the layer being violence too...the violence of humanity...the violence of creating something just to create more violence with it....

[thermodynamic-comedian]

ultrakill lore enthusiasts (me) when the small machine destroys the very big machine

[tytarax]

Our Father, of all of us

Of the poor, of the homeless

Of the marginalized and the unprotected

Of the disinherited and the owners of misery

Of those who follow you and those of us who no longer believe in you

Come down from the heavens

For there is Hell

Come down from your throne

For there are wars, hunger, injustices

You don’t need to be one and three

With just one who wants to help

It would be enough

What is your kingdom? The Vatican?

The Banks? High Politics?

Their kingdom is misery, violence.

Their daily bread is rape

Gender violence

Pedophilia, dictatorships

In temptation, I fall daily

There is no tomorrow in which I am not tempted to create a humble, just God

A God who is on Earth

In the valleys, the rivers

A God who lives in the rain

Who travels through the wind

And caresses our soul

A God of the sad, of the homosexuals

A more human God

A God who does not punish, who teaches

A God who does not threaten, who protects

That, if they fall, will lift them up

That, if they get lost, will extend a hand

A God who, if they sin, will not blame them

And who, if they doubt, will understand them

For that is why you gave them intelligence

To doubt everything

Our Father, of all of us

Why have you forgotten them?

Our Father, blind, deaf, and idle

Why have you abandoned them?

The words of her prayer echoed in the void, a lament carried through the stillness of the place. Here, between the layers of existence, where neither Heaven’s light nor Hell’s fire reached, she ruled—a gray wasteland of wandering souls, where time bent, and judgment lingered out of reach.

Y/N, known as Death, walked its shadowed paths, her form draped in flowing obsidian, her wings like a torn night. The souls in her care trembled when she passed, for even here, in the land of waiting, her presence bore weight. She was not cruel, but she was absolute. She was not forgiveness, nor was she condemnation.

She simply was.

And she had been since the moment mankind first erred.

Her existence began in the garden, on the day a man and a woman stood before a tree and chose to defy the divine. With a single bite, sin entered the world, and through sin came death. She appeared as the shadow cast by their choice, a being neither blessed nor cursed, but necessary. As their naked shame drove them from Eden, the golden angel and his lover fell, casting themselves into the abyss. Their rebellion birthed Hell, and with it, she found her purpose.

From Adam to Moses and beyond, her reign stretched, a silent witness to the rise and fall of countless souls.

Her wings stirred the air as she walked, trailing whispers of a timeless truth: Where sin began, so too did Death reign.

Lately, however, something was shifting. Heaven, for all its proclamations of purity, had dirtied its hands. The boundaries between realms grew thin, with rumors of clandestine acts spilling across the planes. The Exterminators, Heaven’s sword, had begun to cut deeper, venturing beyond their mandate to cull Hell’s chaos. It was not their place to meddle with the balance. It was hers.

Y/N paused, her sharp gaze cutting through the haze that veiled her domain. She spoke, not to the wandering souls, but to the realms above and below. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but it carried the weight of a thousand ages.

“Sin entered the world through man’s folly, and death through sin. Through me. You could not escape me then, and you cannot escape me now.”

Her fingers brushed against the mist, parting it to reveal Hell in the distance. Its sprawling expanse flickered with life and fire, chaos and control. At its heart were the Seven—monarchs of sin who wielded power as old as her own.

And if Heaven thought it could encroach on her realm, bypassing the laws of balance, it would find its reckoning not in fire or light but in her shadow.

A faint smirk curved her lips, though it carried no warmth. “You cannot rewrite the beginning, and you will not dictate the end.”

With a final glance back at the stillness of her domain, she stepped forward into the parted mists. The paths closed behind her, and the gray silence was left once more to the wandering souls.

Death was no longer watching. She was moving.

Taglist: @ultimate-percussionist

[cryptid-catnip]

My Interpretation of ULTRAKILL's Story So Far (Mainly Focusing on God and Mankind)

(I didn't know how to insert this into the mythology-esque writing style I have with this post, but it's my theory that blood is the soul in Ultrakill. Demons and Angels both having it despite having no physiological needs and the Prime Souls' circulatory system being the only part of their human forms that remain are the biggest reasons I think this. Also the existence of the Tree of Life stuff)

God's first creation was that of the Archangels, made to serve Him and His will. He gave the Archangels free will. At present, we only know of two of the Archangels, Lucifer and Gabriel. But He was unsatisfied with the angels, and He wanted something made in His image. And so, He made mankind. At this time, He began making more angels, as He needed more servants for His cosmic design. But these newer angels weren't given free will, so better to serve Him.

However, He soon realized that man needed somewhere to go after death. So, He let virtuous and kind souls enter Heaven with Him and His angelic legions. And when He realized that wicked souls had to go somewhere too, He created Hell.

However, Lucifer, brightest of the angels, asked Him why man must be made to suffer eternally for ultimately fleeting misdeeds. In His insecurity for the fact that he could not find an answer, He cast Lucifer into the depths of Hell. He regretted this almost immediately, as he cared deeply for Lucifer. He tried to destroy Hell, but realized that He was a creator, and only a creator, who could not unmake what He made.

He began to seek into the depths of despair.

Around this time, humanity began creating machines powered by blood. God saw this as revolting, with His creations making weapons of war that are fueled by the very souls of those killed.

But He soon discovered that He was a creator, and only a creator. He was unable to unmake what He has already made, furthering His deep despair.

And then, the Supreme Machines were created.

The 1000-THR Earthmover, a war machine made to level entire cities with a single attack and serve and mobile military base and was able to purge intruders by flooding itself with blood.

The Father, even though He knew He could not destroy the Earthmovers, He performed an act of divine intervention. He cast the first Earthmovers into the Violence layer of Hell, in the circle dedicated to violence against Him.

However, egged on by the Hell Exploration Project and the influence of Hell, man continued.

God, seeing that His efforts to stop it were in vain, He made the decision that He would let mankind destroy themselves and begin again.

And it appears that is exactly what happened. God has abandoned Earth, the Angels, Hell, and Mankind, and I believe that he essentially just fucked off to another planet to start fresh.

[liminalpebble]

What if Eddie and Adam met in a record store. Eddie doesn't have the best track record with supernatural beings but they can bond over music. And how about Loki being introduced to modern Halloween.

AN: A very long time ago, Sig requested this absolutely brilliant idea that Eddie from Stranger Things have an encounter with Adam from Only Lovers Left Alive at a record store and it has burrowed its way deep into my gray matter. I finally feel able to write it because I need to create a comforting little moment and world to sink into because of the persisting horrors...so here we are. I hope it comforts you too.

CW: Not much. No smut. References to Eddie's past injuries and violence by supernatural creatures. Just two weird hot dudes becoming homies because of music and books.

-----

Around

Goes Around, Comes Around was, by far, the best second-hand music store in all of Michigan, in Eddie's opinion. A grimy old neon sign invited him in, creating the illusion of records spinning eternally while little characters infinitely danced “the twist” or “the swim”, like a party that never ends. The sight always made him feel like a giddy kid watching fireworks...or what he imagined it was like to be a giddy kid. He never got to be one, so he was making up for lost time by being one now.

It was heaven. Used records and cassettes and movies and books and comics and even instruments of dubious condition and origin. A dusty haphazard land of other men's trash that was Eddie's affordable treasure trove. He hopped off the bus and into the dark, ran through the bitterly cold slush, and teetered, slip-sliding into the front door. The bell overhead jingled as Eddie crashed in, a wrecking ball with dimples that always made the shop girl giggle and blush.

Those dimples flashed even wider when Eddie saw she was working today. She was his favorite little punk rock dream girl to pine hopelessly after (not that he ever really thought he'd have a chance). He leaned on the counter and told her a stupid knock knock joke, guffawing loudly to himself. For his trouble, the cashier pixie with the blue hair knocked a few melting snow flakes off of his curly brown-sugar bangs and chit-chatted about what they just got in this week.

-----

Adam watched the entirety of Eddie's little adventure, exiting the bus just behind him, and sighing with annoyance as he realized he was going to the same record store as this boisterous human gremlin whom he had already shared a damp bus with.

He stepped across the threshold gracefully but gingerly with fists buried in his black leather jacket, sad strange eyes and pale face obscured by black unruly locks. As always, he kept purposefully to the far end of the shop at first, trying not to notice how delicious the shop girl always smelled.

His fangs began to ache. His gray-blue irises moved eerily as his pupils dilated, like a hungry animal sensing succulent prey and rich blood to drink.

As always, he ignored the urge, focusing instead on which broken instruments he would adopt, repair, or remake into something new and unusual.

Let it pass, he thought, stroking his hands over rickety fretboards and brittle strings.

Until it did, he planned to stay to the opposite corner, well away from the humans. That plan was soon interrupted by the metalhead bounding gleefully in that direction, caressing row after row of records with his heavily-ringed fingers in his his wake like he was skipping through a field of daisies.

Great. Fantastic.

----

When the bell chimed and the skinny goth sulked past, Eddie's scars itched strangely beneath his layered clothes, like little tributaries of battery acid buzzing subcutaneously. His heart began to run hot and he could hear his pulse in his ears. He knew what it meant. Something dangerous was coming around.

His advisory system for the uncanny was alerting him to a supernatural storm front moving in, something that shared DNA with the things that ripped him to shreds. Eddie recalled his pain, suffering for months until the doctors could put him back together again.

Call me Humpty-Dumpty. He thought. This cracked egg is on to you, buddy...whatever you are. As long as you don't dig your claws into anyone, especially that sweet girl, or me, we won't have a problem.

Then again, maybe this guy was just a supernatural gothy dick, minding his own business and buying Depeche Mode and Joy Division tapes to listen to while smoking clove cigarettes. Who was he to judge?

----

Adam sniffed a little more intently as the kid (probably not a kid, but to Adam anyone under 100 seemed like a kid) moved closer. Beneath the faint smells of leather and metal and wet ashtray, he could mark something else, something as familiar as his own blood. The kid also smelled like fear, sharp like petrichor, but he was hiding it well. Adam, realized with a bit of dread, that they recognized each other's secrets and braced himself for a stand off he really didn't want to deal with today.

Fuck.

---

“Hey, man, There's some good looking Muddy Waters records in the back there. I don't know if that's what you're looking for.”

Adam swung his head around, meeting a pair of big, round, dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the corners in a wide cocky grin.

He looked down at the kid, pale chiseled features and the thin gash of a mouth unmoving. Only those slate-colored eyes widened ever so slightly to consider Eddie's presence.

The forbidding glare filled Eddies brain with a singular thought in bright red bubble letters...

Oh...I am fucked.

He laughed, flashed his teeth and put up a hand, hoping to charm, hijack, joke or talk his way out of this predicament before being fucking murdered...just like high school.

“Look...um...I'm Eddie. And I think we might have some things to talk about. I obviously pose no threat to you.” He paused to snort out a little laugh and add, “I mean look at me, I am noooo hero. There's an all-night diner next store. Can we pick our stuff, check out, and...you know...just talk?”

Gothy long legs took a deep breath and took his time responding, making Eddie sweat a bit more.

“Okay,” he sighed in exasperation, but gave the slightest twitch of a simile. “But only because you have good taste. Muddy Waters was a genius.”

With a preternatural grace, Adam, plucked the record from bin, holding it up between two long pale fingers to show Eddie his selection.

-----

At the diner Adam donned his sunglasses again despite being indoors. He held the strong opinion that fluorescent lights were the most horrible invention of the 20th century, second only to the atomic bomb.

Eddie fidgeted, tapping his cheap rings against the linoleum table top, where their matching bags of records rested. He wasn't a fan of the shades. Now he couldn't even see the guy's eyes. Getting a read on him would be about as easy as learning a Van Halen solo. He twisted around in the booth looking for the waitress, curls bouncing with his jerky movements. He waved awkwardly and caught her attention.

“Hey, can I get a cup of black coffee and a slice of cherry pie? And...uh...do you want anythi..”

Adam tilted his head slightly as if to say, “Seriously?” then resumed his staring at nothing.

“Right...” Eddie said, cringing and sticking his tongue out slightly. “Uh..just that. Thanks.”

When she walked away, the stranger spoke in a low silky baritone and, surprisingly, in a crisp English accent. Eddie hadn't noticed it before on account of being scared out of his fucking mind.

“My name is Adam. And I think you already know what I am. So, Eddie, what might I ask, are you?

Eddie considered for a moment. “Well, let's just say if you're Dracula, I'm Frankenstein's monster. Whatever you're...made of... it's the same stuff as the creatures that did this. I have no fucking clue why that means we could sniff each other out though,” he explained, furtively rolling up his sleeves to show Adam the scar tissue branching up and over his forearm.

Adam took off his sunglasses, despite the pickaxe of light agitating his sensitive eyes, and furrowed his brow. He moved closer for a better look, and reached out his fingers. Eddie flinched a little as he moved nearer. Adam looked up, meeting his eyes with a surprisingly gentle expression.

“My apologies. May I touch them? Do they hurt?”

Eddie looked off to the side biting his lip and trying to ignore how his eyes stung ever so slightly whenever anyone got close to them, or to him; back to memories of the worst day of his life (which was very nearly the last one).

“Yes and yes.” Eddie answered shortly.

“Are they all over your body?”

“Uh...yeah. They tore me up pretty good.”

Adam very carefully examined the marks, then met Eddie's eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

Eddie's eyebrows shot up and he let out a breathy little laugh of surprise.

“Oh, don't worry about it. It's not like you did it. It was a long time ago and a few states away now. I've literally and figuratively put it behind me, I suppose.”

“Not from around here then?”

Eddie smirked. “Look who's talking, buddy. That's not exactly a Midwestern accent you got there.”

Adam returned his smirk, saying, “No. It certainly is not. But, more to the point...my kind, we don't really do that kind of thing anymore, for the most part. We keep to ourselves...the few of us who are even left.”

Eddie nodded pensively. “Good to know. Thank you. I guess I was just caught a little off guard. Didn't know if I should be worried or not.”

Adam shook his head slowly but emphatically, “No. Not at all. But I understand the concern. And I wouldn't want to hurt you, anyway.”

“Really, why not?

“Well, your taste in music has got you in my good graces. Knowing that it's Frankenstein's monster rather than Frankenstein also makes me like you.”

Eddie exhaled a breathy chuckle of relief after all this. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath so tightly.

“What can I say? I've always been a reader...horror and fantasy specifically.”

Adam continued, “You know, I met her actually.”

“Really? Mary Shelley?”

“Indeed.”

“What was she like?”

Adam's voice lowered, and leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially into Eddie's ear, “absolutely scrumptious. Her husband was a complete bellend, though. Insufferable. An idiot, as well. Would you like to hear some stories?”

Eddie nodded eagerly, just as his pie and coffee landed in front of him in a cloud of warm steam and sweet aromas. “I'm all ears and I've got all night.”

“Then I'll stick around,” Adam said, pulling a delicate silver flask from his pocket and toasting with Eddie's mug.

“to sticking around...somehow.”

@leelei1980 @word-wytch @muddyorbs @goblingirlsarah @munson-blurbs @bettyfrommars @fairyysoup @sweetsigyn @glitchquake @somnambulic-thing @gigglingtiggerv2 @ladyofthestayingpower @eleniblue @alexakeyloveloki @smolvenger @sidereustales @deceptive-daydreams @munsonficrecfreak @veemoon @queenofstarsign85

[akirathedramaqueen]

How would you write a multiverse story into Helluva Boss? Not talking crossovers with other cartoons or other Vivziepop stuff like Hellaverse meets Zoophobia, but just a classic, “Characters meeting different versions of themselves that are radically different.” I’ve always thought it’d be neat to see a potentially evil, yandere version of Stolas meet the main cast, especially Blitzø and Stolas, and just how appalled they’d be at how depraved and insane this other Stolas from another world is. Be a fun way to explore what Stolas was originally going to be before changes were made to the actual Helluva Boss show cause in the pilot, Stolas was setup to be the villain.

Oh hello again! :) Wow, your ideas are flowing!

We would need the premise for the story. How that villanous Stolas would appear in our world? What his goal would be? What would encountering him teach the main cast? Would there be moral at all, or growth, or does it hold an entertaining purpose?

Guessing by your idea that they have to be repulsed by that version of Stolas, I'd say it has to have some moral . . . huh.

How about this? The main characters aren't our canon Stolas and Blitz. The main character is a villanous Stolas.

The Premise

We know that higher demons have their own sigils so that humans with affiliation to demonology could summon them and ask for favors in exchange for, more often than not, a soul (or cake, in case of our regular Stolas).

So, let's say Stolas gets a request from a politician to deal with toxic waste landfills somewhere in California, and he is adamant that it has to go out of existence, not just dump it in the ocean or something. Stolas wants another soul for his grimoire, so he agrees, and comes up with a plan to dump that toxic waste in another universe. He knows that time is no more than infinite amount of worlds which collide and destroy and new ones get created depending on how different versions of future unveil (someone decided to brush their teeth - boom, two new universes, one being the teeth were brushed and the other teeth were left dirty). So, lots of room for someone's waste. But the solution is unconventional and he tries a very complicated, multi-layered spell for the first time.

He fails. Partially. He teleports the toxic waste out to another verse, but also, he is getting dragged by the portal too.

He isn't quick enough to pick his grimoire, so he finds himself in a pile of toxic waste somewhere in the Pride Ring of our universe, without a way to bring himself back.

How exactly that Stolas is different?

He isn't that different from Stolas we know. But, instead of holding onto his soft side, he chose violence, and he'd lost the faith goodness will take you anywhere long time ago.

So he only cares about his own needs. His daughter is silent and getting mistreated. She went through the same hell Stolas once did, with absent parents, staff in place of them, and her only worth in Stolas's eyes is how much she can do with her magic or if she can be a part of some elaborate politics game. His wife, even though she is that same Stella, that same bitch which tortured our Stolas, is fucking dreading him. Blitz from that world puts up with him, but doesn't hide his hatred toward him, and Stolas often uses his assassin skills for his own plans, either in Hell or in Earth, in order to level up his stance.

On the other hand, he strives in that world, unlike our Stolas. He's a well-respectable royal with a good grasp on the court, and means to take Paimon's place one day. He wants to make him suffer.

How would the story go?

Stolas finds himself in the Imp City, and let's say Katie Killjoy was quick enough to make fucking news out of it. Blitz sees the news, and, scared, rushes there, finds a villanous Stolas but gets confused because Stolas acts nothing like his Stolas.

They quickly find out there are two Stolases now, and that new Stolas is infuriated to see how pitiful he is in that other life.

They kind of work together to send a villanous Stolas back to his place, but along the way, a villanous Stolas often impersonates our Stolas, wrecks havoc, creates problems, but also, helps in some cases - let's say, his assertive dominance would help greatly against Stella during divorce proceedings or something.

And with time, during all these adventures, a villanous Stolas might even grow a little. From his perspective, we could explore just how sad he really is in that infitinitely high tower he'd built and lets no one on board, that while everyone respects him and fears him, nobody really likes him. And, as he (reluctantly) helps our Stolas sort out some of his business - just because he hates seeing himself so miserable - he could find himself jealous seeing just how easy it is for our Stolas to get happy, embraced by Blitz and by Octavia, maybe given a pat on the back by Loona or even M&M's.

Finally, they find a way to conjure a portal to a villanous Stolas's home, but even if he whined and complained the whole time about how he wanted to finally get back, he suddently isn't looking forward to it. And on that note, we could leave that story, or, if we'd like a more positive ending, make the crew appreciate his help despite how much of an asshole he was throughout the whole thing, and make him a bit more hopeful about that he probably can make some changes to the people he might feel he cares about. But not every villain deserves redemption, so that's disputable.

So, there's that. I hope it answers your question. Speaking of a villanous Stolas, there's the version of a 'Just Look My Way' song which was written before the Ozzie's episode came out, and it contains much darker Stolas. This is an OG version btw. :) You could check it out to pick up vibes of that Stolas, but tune it to be even more evil.

P.S.: there is a good fic which explores Blitz switching places with his other self, Blitzo, from the world where the fire never happened. I think you might like this if you're into multiverse stories!

[soleilceirinen]

MITO (DPR Ian x Reader) - Part 1

Summary: Ian crossed the threshold that separated our world from the other side and let the blueberry monster in. You are the only person he trusts to help him stop it. What you don't know is that in addition to the monster, he brought Mito with him.

Warnings: suicide attempt and a bit of violence (against the monster mostly).

Note: this story is inspired by the DPR Ian album Moodswings In This Order. This sets in al alternative universe. English is not my first language so sorry for any mistake!

MASTERLIST - PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST

Forests are scary.

Unlike a desert, where nothing surrounds you, when entering a forest you’ll find yourself encircled by a web of branches and leaves creating a barrier between where you are and the rest of the world. As you move on and get into the deep end, it seems that you are crossing the threshold which takes you to another place. The branches are moved by the gentle breeze and from time to time, they let the faint rays of sun pass through. 

Ian entered the forest located on the outskirts of Tower Mills in the middle of the night and immediately he found himself covered by the most absolute darkness. That night there was a full moon but its light barely filtered through the thick foliage of the trees. Not that he cared, he had gone there to be alone, with the intention of ending his life. 

He walked for a few minutes although hours could have passed. Everything seemed the same, the same trees, the same stones and the same grooves on the ground. So he decided to stop, he gripped the gun in his hand until his knuckles turned white. Did he really want to do it? He thought of y/n, who might be sleeping in her small apartment. At the thought of her he felt his eyes filling up with tears, she was the only good thing in his life. Yes, it was the only solution, although maybe…

He wasn’t alone in the forest.

Ian blinked rapidly in order to clear his vision, the tears making everything look as if it were being seen through a layer of water. He heard something creaking somewhere at his right, or had it been at his left? It was impossible to assure it and be completely certain.

He remained utterly still, in silence, trying to hear it again but all he could hear was his own heart beating loudly in his ears. Perhaps it was nothing, some nocturnal animal. After all, he was in the middle of a forest and everybody knows that woods are alive. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was not his intention to leave this world so agitated. Ian knelt down by some ferns and put the gun in his mouth but just before pulling the trigger he heard it again. 

This time it sounded closer, almost as if whatever that caused the sound were getting slowly closer until stopping behind him. Definitely, he wasn’t alone. Ian could feel the gaze of someone or something fixed on him. The warm breeze ruffled his hair, bristling the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. It was too hot, almost like the breath of something alive. He opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything, he could barely see the tree trunks surrounding him.

Slowly, he took the gun out of his mouth and without loosening the strength with which he held it, turned around and pointed the weapon. 

What he saw left him paralyzed, it was the worst than anything that came out of his worst nightmares. Ian felt the urge to throw up, his mouth filled with bile and without thinking twice he pulled the trigger repeatedly. That seemed to do little damage to the creature, who got even closer, this time letting itself be seen completely. 

Despite the darkness, Ian distinguished a dark figure, too tall to be a human, with long arms which ended in sharp claws. The way it moved didn’t look human either, as if the scene were being seen through a sequence of photograms. 

The creature reached out with one of its arms and grabbed Ian by the shoulder, digging its clawed fingers into his flesh. The sudden pain made him react, he felt a thick darkness taking over him, and all of a sudden he wasn’t capable of controlling his own body. Ian saw how his own arm grabbed the creature along with a strong smell of sulfur and how the creature moved back. It seemed as if Ian had hurt it with his touch. But he was no longer Ian. 

His new self fought against that strange being with a strength never experienced before, as if something were leading him to do it. Without knowing it, that night Ian crossed a threshold, he entered another place from where he returned changed. He could feel the change deep inside his bones, how the darkness had taken over his body and never left, as well as the terrifying creatures that lived in the woods of Tower Mills.

[bestworstcase]

a ribbon of something that popped into my head: when the Tree/Smith is telling the story of the Brothers & says that "balance is not two forces eternally fighting, it's an ecosystem" could that be taken as the narrative actively judging the Brothers for the role they ended up taking on in Remnant? by that I mean, being judged for viewing themselves as above all the other things on Remnant, for isolating themselves from the societies they created and not being A Part of Things. they weren't a part of remnant's ecosystem. never seeing themselves as owing these people anything. this adds a whole new layer to Dark being happy that someone was worshipping him. It wasn't Dark's choice to be that way. It was Light's. this was a fight they'd been having for eons. perhaps Dark obliterated humanity because he was tiring of that battle. imagine how exhausting it would be to have empathy for thousands, millions, and have someone in your ear telling you that they're worthless? if I had to listen to that for an innumerable amount of years I'd probably want them gone eventually too. just so I didn't have to suffer the pain. but he didn't destroy the Grimm. his creations. only the thing he and Light made together.

whatever new world the brothers went to next, I hope Dark's okay. this feels more and more like familial abuse on a cosmic scale by the day.

hey you know what’s really great and also hysterical. about ‘balance is an ecosystem.’

‘the two brothers’ describes the god of darkness as the creator of:

1. the moon.

2. mountains.

3. deserts.

4. storms.

5. volcanoes.

6. earthquakes.

7. the continents as they exist today (he breaks his brother’s supercontinent apart.)

light is vexed by all of this because he considers these things to be ruinous—he accuses dark of spoiling their creation.

but

it means

that the god of darkness created the tides. plate tectonics. weather. eco-diversity. ALL ESSENTIAL NATURAL PROCESSES WITHOUT WHICH LIFE AS WE KNOW IT LIKELY COULD NOT EXIST.

dark is the reason remnant is habitable, not by divine fiat but genuinely a habitable planet. if the mythical division of responsibility is accurate (and i’m inclined to think it is, because it’s written so strongly in light’s favor and if light saw any value in these things he would absolutely have claimed credit for them regardless of whether that was true), then that implies the god of darkness Deliberately redesigned remnant into a world that could survive and thrive without divine intervention.

the god of light made a world by fiat—a world like the ever after, which needed divine agents to tend it—and the god of darkness “spoiled” it. by remaking it into a world that DIDN’T NEED THEM. a world that could only exist in its natural equilibrium, not balanced by force or calculation.

dark understood the assignment. the tree guided the brothers to an empty canvas to learn the true meaning of balance. an ecosystem. a living breathing thing that cannot be planned, only found. light doesn’t get it—light still conceives of himself as the designer, the ruler, the arbiter of balance, and he hates his brother because his brother proved the lie.

what happens to afterans when they lose sight of their purpose? they go home. they ascend. they are renewed and become themselves anew. the tree left the door open for the brothers to return when they were ready.

dark made a world that did not need gods. he made humans and yearned for their attention; in ‘the two brothers’ humans are said to be dark’s favorite creation. he delights in them. and in the lost fable we see that desire playing out through his empathy for salem, his desire to reciprocate, and his cruel retaliation when light convinces him that she lied. and then that cruelty escalates far beyond what either brother could have imagined. dark slaughters humanity—the same tyrannical violence he refused to countenance for eons, destroying the creation he loved best.

does it not naturally follow that he would go home? return to the tree, reflect on his mistakes, and come back as something new? something closer to what he wanted to be when he was still himself, before he let his brother’s warped perspective twist his own?

something, perhaps, less powerful but a little closer to human?

in ‘the two brothers’ a lonely dragon divides himself into two warring halves. we now have hard confirmation that this is only myth, not the true origin of the brothers, and its relevancy to the narrative is purely symbolic.

there are also four very humanlike spirits chained up in those relics, and of the two we’ve met both of them palpably LOATHE ozma but delight in the ingenuity of other humans. and the grimm are drawn to the relics (“something to do with their origins”).

and the spirit of knowledge strains so hard against ozpin’s framing of the narrative that salem’s rightness shines through it like a goddamned lighthouse.

(also ‘gather these magical artifacts and combine them together to bring my dead loved one back to life’ is a pretty fucking standard fantasy grief-gone-wrong trope; if dark ascended and left light behind… like eternal conflict or no, they’re brothers. twins. they have always been together and—because destruction came first—light has never known existence without dark. what would it DO to him if dark ascended and he could not?)

[beewithknee]

of fear and isolation

day 11 of redactober 2023 !

darlin/asher/david (unrequited love)

Darlin’ hung back. A ghost on the wall that always managed to disappear. Never heard, rarely seen. Overlooked.

They enjoyed it that way. Forming limited connections meant less heartbreak further down the road when they decided to leave. People always left.

Watching the two people you were hopelessly in love fawn all over the other made it a little less easy to not care. Apathy was something Darlin’ had spent their whole life in the company of.

Through their parents, their friends, Quinn. None of it had ever really mattered, just adding complexity to their grey life.

However watching David and Asher be David and Asher, now that created reds and blues. It caused dark greens and pale yellows. It wasn’t fair. Why had these two had such an affect on their life that no one had managed to before? Why the two mates who were so sickeningly in love, that it was apparent to everyone?

The Alpha and the Beta were every happy-ending given true form. They’d survived Gabe’s passing, Quinn, the inversion, and come out all the better for it.

Those events… they’d simply chipped further and further away at Darlin’s humanity. Left them scarred, broken, shattered. They would never recover from any of those moments in time. That was the simple truth of it all.

Milo had once begged them to tell his best friends about their secretly harboured feelings. That was met with a resounding no and a promise of violence if he ever told anyone.

So there they were, glued to the back wall like a parasite. They didn’t move, didn’t speak, as David gave his speech to his pack. All of whom were watching with great awe. David certainly wasn’t his father, but Darlin’ thought that might’ve just been a good thing. He bought so much more that Gabe (Bless his soul) had ever been able to.

After Liliana’s passing, Gabe had been broken. He’d attempted to keep the peace with his pack and himself, but Darlin’ saw. Kindred spirits and all that.

There was something familiar, even to their adolescent mind, in the way Gabe’s cracks seeped through into his everyday life. Maybe that’s why they’d felt such a close bond with the former Alpha.

Fiddling with their ring, they kept their gaze firmly on their mutilated hands while their ears remained tracked to every word that fell from between those sweet lips.

At one point they glanced up, feeling a gaze on them. Asher. Even from behind their sunglasses, they were positive he caught the way their eyes widened.

‘David’s speaking, why is he looking at me?’ They questioned silently, internally panicking at every out-of-place area on their body. 13. That’s how many they counted just with a quick mental scan.

Fuck.

‘Wait after. Please?’ Asher signed discreetly, nodding in their direction to confirm that he was speaking to them. Limbs paralysed and anxiety crippling their every survival instinct, they nodded and moved their unseeing gaze back to the Alpha.

In their peripheral, they watched as Asher kept looking at them for a few moments before turning back to his mate.

Sweat welled up along their hairline, a physical manifestation of their rapidly-increasing anxiety. Leaving now would draw too much suspicion, as well as alerting their friend Beta. The doors were far too loud to be moved without gathering unwanted attention.

They remained frozen, heart galloping in their chest for the duration of the pack meeting. Pack meeting. Honestly they weren’t even sure why they’d shown up; they certainly weren’t ‘pack’. Others had made that abundantly clear.

Oh god. A lightbulb flicked in their mind. David and Asher were kicking them out. They’d spotted Chrissy whispering to Ash not moments before the meeting began.

Fuck.

They were being kicked out. A loner. A rouge. Granted, majority of the time they felt like that anyway; but at least they still had the layer of being a Shaw on their back.

After this they’d be naked. Vulnerable. Totally alone.

Shit.

Noise finally penetrated their ears, seeping in around the buzzing. Clapping. The meeting had adjourned.

With the confirmation of their impending doom in their mind, Darlin’ did the one thing they knew their boys… their Alpha and Beta would hate the most.

They turned tail and ran.

[nightcolorz]

Hello, could you elaborate on your thoughts about how sex was treated in the show? If you are comfortable with it, obviously! I love your blog and your answers btw

Of course! I love answering these asks. For me this is more of a nitpick then a criticism, bcus I don’t think there’s anything technically worse about how the show handles sex over the books, but it just doesn’t appeal as much to my preferences.

In the books sex is very interesting bcus of how encoded it is into the narrative. Sexual desire is thematically extremely important in tvc, it informs basically every character dynamic. Sex isn’t something the vampires literally can do, but they are very sexual in nature, or “sensual”as Anne Rice loves to say, and their actions and dynamics r very psycho-sexually motivated. I think this makes for a very unique dynamic that the narrative has with sex. Tvc vampires can’t have sex but almost every form of pleasure they experience from killing to looking at art is felt as strongly as sexual pleasure, they have intimate relationships with each other that transcend human romance, almost every two characters have sexual impulses over each other. It’s weird and fucked up and interesting and there’s a lot going on there. Sex is symbolically the same as blood drinking and killing and hunting r sexual, and I love that bcus it gives the vampires this element of other that’s really compelling. I love the concept that their ways of feeling and experiencing human pleasures and emotions and relationships we’re familiar with r fundamentally changed in a way that r almost beyond our understanding bcus of vampirism. They r very alien but also very human, bcus at their core they just experience things the way we do but heightened to a freakish extreme. I like to think that tvc vampires experience a reality were the type of frenzied daze we experience when horny is what they experience nearly all the time. It’s so weird! And yeah, cool. The way romance works bcus of this is so interesting too, bcus an element of romance and sex comes with pretty much every vampire dynamic, and it creates these crazy fucked up dynamics that u wouldn’t get in any other book series.

and then well, there’s the show. Not much to say there is the problem. I don’t really have an issue with the vampires being able to have literal sex, but it’s the way sex and sexual subtext in general r handled that bothers me. Bcus..I mean it’s boring. Like, Louis and Lestat have crazy hate sex, but it’s not anything we haven’t seen before in television, minus how they’re an interracial couple and two men I suppose. Sex has the same implications as it does for humans, like the whole Antoinette cheating story line is just ur average cheating storyline but with blood and violence, you’d never get something that mundane and clean cut in the books. And like, I love some weird gay vampire sex scenes as much as the next guy, but how does floating vampire sex compare to the weirdness I rambled about above? There’s not that layer of complexity and strangeness I find so interesting. Like, it’s fantastical and vampire specific, they drink each others blood and float and stuff, but not in the dense way it is in the books. I believe that this has the potential to change, I think the tense scenes with Rashid, like the honey and pineapple scene, felt weird and bizarre in a way that reminded me of the books. But, I’ve been disappointed before. So for now I’m dissatisfied.

thanks for sending me the ask and thank you sm!!! You r so sweet <3 I love that u love my blog. As always feel free to send me asks guys I love them !

[neokingghidorah]

Ultrakill Theory: The Third Prime Soul

(Disclaimer: I only have a passing knowledge of The Divine Comedy and Greek myth. This is mostly based on observations of Ultrakill itself.)

So I know there's a meme that the third prime soul in Ultrakill is going to be Jesus Prime, but I started seriously thinking about it and remembering some other theories people threw out there. And I have a working theory that Act 3's secret boss is going to be Daedalus Prime. Here are my detailed thoughts on why:

The other two prime souls, Sisyphus Prime and Minos Prime, have a few things in common. Most importantly to me, they're both from Greek myth and they're both alluded to in the one of the layers of their respective acts. They were also both killed by Gabriel, but that's unrelated to my theory here. If Hakita keeps to these similarities for the third one (Which to be fair, he might not), that means we have a good foundation for what to expect.

Obviously, there are a lot of figures in Greek myth to pull from, so we should look to additions to the lore of Ultrakill from Violence, the first layer of Act 3, for clues. As far as I'm concerned, there's one obvious mystery person/hanging thread alluded to in layer 7: whoever it was that created the Minotaur. In the lore entry for the Minotaur, it's stated that the beast was created by someone whose name was redacted, as a gift for Minos to establish rapport. Minos reacted to the sculpted thing with horror, and banished it to the Garden of Forking Paths, the first level of Violence. This mysterious creator, whoever it is, seems to be a pretty good candidate for expanding upon in something like a Prime Sanctum.

Now, why do I think this creator is Daedalus? Well, in Greek myth, Daedalus created the Labyrinth that housed the Minotaur for Minos. Ultrakill plays pretty fast and loose with ideas from both the Divine Comedy and Greek myth, so it's not too much of a stretch to make him the creator of the Minotaur itself in this lore. And once I thought that, it got me thinking about some elements of Violence, and how they might support Daedalus being the culprit even more.

As the first boss of Violence, the Minotaur is an artificial being created by someone in hell that knows only blind fury and carnage. This ties in very well thematically with the majority of the enemies found swarming layer 7: the machines. They are themselves, artificial beings created by humans that only know war. You could absolutely consider the Minotaur and its creator a sort of progenitor or dark reflection of Ultrakill's blood-fueled machines, and the people who created them.

Furthermore, another thematic throughline in Violence is artistry and creation. The interiors of the layer are often finely decorated, the levels littered with human architecture, statues, and clockwork. The first book you pick up in 7-1 tells you the world is a canvas, and that you should paint it (red). Daedalus is known primarily as a genius craftsman and architect in the stories he features in. It wouldn't be wrong to call him an artist. Specifically, he's a great sculptor. And a living sculpture is exactly what the Minotaur is described as in its terminal entry.

All of this leads me to believe that Act 3's Prime Sanctum will contain Daedalus Prime as the boss fight. I could be wrong: the identity of the Minotaur's creator may well be revealed in Fraud instead, or just be left a mystery. The prime soul may well be a character alluded to in Layer 8 or even 9. Also, it strikes me that it may be difficult to craft a boss fight out of a character like Daedalus that sticks to the general feel and format of Minos and Sisyphus (fast-moving hard hitting humanoids), as he doesn't strike me as the physically capable and imposing type. And then there's the fact that Gabriel does not yet appear to have anything to do with whoever is being alluded to in layer 7. All of this will of course be answered when Ultrakill is finally finished, and I'm even more excited now than ever to see what Hakita cooks with the full release!

[raintouchedstars]

The Window At The End of the Road

Summary: Years of survival and fighting for freedom, for a life of her own and all she was left was this. This place, this window, her curse...and him.

Author's Note: An enemies to lovers short piece from a story that I had long since abandoned, but wanted to post it anyway. The characters in this are both immortal adults, 10 years apart but well into their 100s. Though there is nothing too explicit in this story, reader discretion is still advised, mentions of war, trauma, violence, and survival.

The clouds rolled over the city, drenching it in rain that made the buildings look shiny and new. Liana pressed her forehead against the thick floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, looking down at the blurry lights far below. It should be beautiful, watching the cars move, creating colors like smears on a canvas. Not for her though. The war, the days spend slaughtering one crazed monster after another, the nights spent shivering in terror, unable to sleep for fear of being found. Vulnerable. Unprepared.

Thunder screamed across the sky, and Liana felt like crying with it. There was only one battle left. One fight, against the demon that started it all. The sun would rise tomorrow, and the humans would have no idea of the rage that would be unleashed with it. Would not even know that their entire existence hangs in the balance.

And here she was. She had run away from her family, her friends, all so that could follow him. He would be there at the battle tomorrow. He would not fight on either side. But no matter the victor, she knew he would walk away with prizes no one else would even consider.

He would come back here soon, to this penthouse, that he most likely stole. She wondered whom this house belonged to, and how he had tricked people into giving it to him. The receptionist on the first floor acted as though she knew Liana, and gave her a spare key, no questions asked.

He was waiting for her.

She thought about the last time she had willingly come to him. It had been raining that night too. She had remembered their shared past, and the pain of the truth had made her run to him, demanding to understand why he had chosen to be who he was.

How funny.

She understood it all now. It was so easy to fall below the ice once that barrier was cracked. She was no better than he was now. A monster.

She knew the moment he stepped into the penthouse. There was no grand entrance, no door rattling as the keys were turned. Nothing. Except the pressure of his presence. And his scent.

He always smelled like the clear sky after a rainstorm. How a man that dark would always smell that clean was a mystery to her.

She didn't turn. She saw his reflection in the window glass. A pleased smirk spread across his face.

"Well, well." He shed the outer layer of his suit, revealing the white dress shirt underneath. "I was wondering how long it would take before you came to find me."

Liana turned. Her heart was screaming, her mind did not agree with her eyes and ears, but there he was. Tall, relaxed, an easy smile hiding the cruelty behind his beautiful green eyes.

"I killed you," she whispered.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, his smile fading, his steps relaxed and slow as he moved toward her.

"I wrung your neck. I can still feel the snapping in my hands. You were dead for three years! You can't be real!"

He came close, till his body pressed against hers, pinning her between himself and the window. "Do I not feel real?"

Liana sunk her claws into his shirt, ripping the white fabric, staining it with red.

So he was real.

"Then explain, Isak."

She hissed, curling her fingers, drawing more blood. He narrowed his eyes.

"Explain why I remember something that didn't happen. Did you make me think I murdered you in cold blood? Is that it? Did you want to make me into a monster just like you? To prove some kind of sick point? I was nothing like you! I never took pleasure in killing! I did what I had to-to survive! Did you put memories of me wanting to destroy and main in head? Did-" Her lungs seized, not letting her continue. Breathing burned as she tried to suck in air through the rising panic.

Looking up, into a set of calm, green eyes, the one physical attribute they shared, she tried to search for some form of confession.

Isak he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her claws out of his chest, the wounds already closing. He held her hands in his, pulling them over her head, looking down at her from between his own arms.

"It's flattering that you think I'm powerful enough to change someone's memories, but no. I did nothing to your mind, except put you back together after you escaped from Narcius the first time."

Isak squeezed Liana's hands. All the years she'd spent, running and hiding in the Second Plane, the world that existed alongside the human world, ran through her mind. He was telling the truth. And it did nothing to ease her pain.

"Why would I want you to believe you had killed me?"

He let go of her hands, and they feel limply to her sides.

"I have nothing to gain from it. But Narcius does. And now, I can see why."

She couldn't hold herself up anymore. She would have crumbled to the floor, if Isak hadn't wrapped his arms around her ribs. He held her up, her feet floating in the air.

Liana slammed her fists down on his shoulders and back. "I don't care why he did it! I was never cruel before that lie! I'm tainted now!"

"That's exactly what he wants. Cruelty makes the curse spread. Killing me wasn't what you were afraid of. You're afraid of becoming a monster like me. He reached into your darkest fears and made you believe the one thing that would push you over the edge."

Liana felt hollow. If Isak held her tight enough, she might just shatter like glass. All the people she had killed, it had been a game. Stuck in a nightmare world, in a war, where the only person she had known kindness from was the same man she despised, it had been so easy to rationalize her cruelty. She was once a Priestess of the Spring. And now...

"Well, Narcius won." Tears ran down her face now. "Before this, I killed only to protect myself and others, and never without the goddess' blessing. Look at me now."

She pulled down her shirt, revealing part of her chest. Her skin was as black as ink, as though oil ran through her veins instead of blood.

Isak cursed. He reached down with one hand and pulled her blouse over her head. From her heart, black thorns spread outward, covering part of her breasts, her ribcage.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you leave." He pressed a hand to her skin. The black patches were cold. "But you resented staying with me. So I let you go. I never would have let you free if I knew he could still reach your mind, spread the curse further."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Liana sobbed. "The corruption won't stop. Not after everything I've done. I don't deserve to go back to my family. I have nothing."

Isak wiped away a tear. "So why did you come here? What were you looking for?"

"The truth."

"Even if it causes you pain?"

"Maybe that's what I deserve."

He pressed a finger to her temple. "Do you want to forget? Should I lock away that which pains you?"

"I thought you said you couldn't do that."

He smiled. "Do you think I can't find a way to do it?"

"Even if you did, it wouldn't erase everything I've done."

"You're right. It won't."

"How do you live with yourself? How do you keep going, knowing what you've done to people?"

Isak tilted his head to the side. "You're asking the wrong person. I quite enjoy what I do." He leaned forward, his nose brushing against hers. "I can't heal a broken spirit. Or a broken heart."

"Like I expected you to bother trying." She turned her head to the side, away from his eyes.

"But I can cleanse the darkness."

Liana closed her eyes, not believing him, her body shaking in silent despair. She had already lost her family, her principles, and soon she herself would disappear, turned into a raging monster once the poison in her blood covered her completely. She had nothing left to lose, no shame in letting him hold her close now. Better than being alone, then being cold. Nothing concerned her anymore.

Until Isak's lips pressed gently into the curve of her neck. Liana wriggled, trying to pull back from him. There was no sly smile on his lips this time, no smirk remark.

"You hate me, I know. I like to tease you, pester your family, manipulate information to better suit my wishes, but there are lines even I won't cross without your permission."

Isak's palm was hot, and Liana couldn't help pressing her cheek into that warmth as he tilted her head back.

"Only one of us truly deserves to be corrupted," he said against her lips. "Let me gather up the darkness inside you. Let me fill you will pleasure instead."

Liana could see her frightened expression in his eyes. Her entire body trembled as his offer sank in. Thoughts came to a halt as her heart began hammering in her chest.

"Should I let you go?"

Liana panicked, throwing her arms around his shoulders. The only thing that was keeping her from the numbing freeze was his hot body against her own. "No."

"What do you want then?"

"I don't want to be cold anymore."

He pressed his forehead against hers. Lightning flashed for a moment, and he didn't even blink or flinch from it, eyes as intense as the first day she had met him.

"There is no going back if I cross this line," he warned. "I've spent decades longing for you. If you demand that I leave, I will, but if you give me permission to continue, I won't go back to waiting for the day that you'd be mine."

Liana closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. What did it matter if she resisted him anymore? She was going to fade away soon. Her body would still exist, but her mind, her spirit, her consciousness would fade away into nothing but rage and bloodlust. Now was all the time she had, now was all the time that mattered.

He crushed her to him, squeezing her between himself and the glass, waking her heart, bringing heat to her cheeks. His tongue slid over hers, kissing her deep. Electricity zipped along her skin, making her feel as though her limps were turned into putty. When he pulled away, she was breathless.

Yet some part of her mind awoke and rebelled, reminding her of all the times she had resisted his touch in the past. This was not the same boy that she had loved as a child.

"You'll burn me."

"You're right. I will." He leaned in so close, that his chest crushed hers, and his breath puffed against her ear. "I'm not gentle, I'm not soft, and once won't be enough."

His tongue traced the outer rim of her ear. Liana cried out.

"Mmm, what a beautiful sound." Isak slid his leg between hers. "So what will be?"

Liana's mind was dangerously close to shutting down, and letting nothing but touch take over. She had to press a hand to his chest, to ground herself.

"If I change my mind midway through, if I wake up from this dream you put me in-"

"I'll give you a word. Say it and I stop, no matter what I'm doing."

He moved lower, his tongue tracing from her ear to her neck, where he bit down gently, nibbling lightly on her skin. "I need an answer."

"Yes."

"Good."

Isak looped his hands under her thighs, lifting her, positioning her legs around his waist.

"W-wait. Here? Against the glass?"

"Shush." He trailed kisses down to her collarbone, stopping just above her heart. "Relax now. Let me guide you through the fire."

[tactiturn]

maybe we should stop hiding behind “it’s just nature.” how often do you hear that—someone excusing violence or selfishness or predatory behavior with a shrug and a smile: “well, it’s just human nature.” or worse: “animals do it too.” it’s a way to sidestep accountability by claiming we’re no better than wolves or sharks. but it’s dumb—because we’re not just animals.

animals, by and large, don’t have the options we do. when a lion hunts down a gazelle, it doesn’t pause to weigh moral pros and cons. it’s hungry. full stop. humans, though, have layers of complexity: we can empathize, reason, plan, and choose. to say we can’t do better than “just following our instincts” is to ignore the very thing that sets us apart—our capacity to imagine consequences and act accordingly.

yes, we come from nature, but part of being human means transcending certain base impulses. if a friend betrays you and they say, “hey, it’s just in my nature—every man for himself”, that’s not wisdom; it’s a cop-out. it’s refusing to own the fact that we can reflect on our behavior and decide if it’s good or harmful. we have ethics, laws, community standards precisely because we’re not locked into the rigid survival logic of an animal. we choose to uphold or break those standards.

you might argue that certain impulses—like aggression or greed—are rooted in our evolutionary history. sure, maybe. but evolution also gave us altruism, cooperation, the ability to create moral frameworks. if you’re going to invoke biology, at least be honest enough to acknowledge we have a range of “natural” behaviors, and we can pick which ones to honor.

so no, “it’s natural” shouldn’t be a free pass. is it “natural” to cheat, steal, or hurt someone weaker? maybe, in some raw survival sense. but it’s also “natural” to show mercy, form alliances, and share resources. invoking nature to dodge responsibility for wrongdoing cheapens our own humanity. we’re more than beasts acting on urges; we’re beings capable of empathy and reason. that’s the difference. if you do something terrible, don’t blame the wolves; blame yourself for choosing the wolfish path when you had the option not to.

[meltotheany]

Goodreads | Amazon US | B&N | Blackwell’s | Bookshop i keep putting off this review, because i know whatever i type will just not do this book justice. this really is a masterpiece in every way, and for sure one of the best books i’ve ever read, but it also felt physically painful to read while being an american right now. (i mean, always, but just… extra heavy right now.) but, i will try my best. “This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever fallen in love with a culture that was devouring their own.” a memory called empire follows mahit dzmar, who is from a very small mining space station, and this story begins as soon as she lands in the center of the multi-system, the teixcalaanli empire, where she will be the newest ambassador. she has been raised learning everything about teixcalaan, in hopes of one day being able to work in the heart of the empire she has loved her whole life, but when the last ambassador goes missing, mahit is able to make that dream come true bigger than she ever imagined. in this world, there is implant technology that manhit’s people have, called imagos. and basically, as long as the people are compatible, they can share a chain of actual human life memory, that they can keep passing down, essentially sharing a body, at least your current body when the years of memories of the person’s implant that is implanted in you. yskandr, the previous ambassador, has been missing for three months, and they do not have this implant of the last twenty years, but they have an out of date imago of his first five years in teixcalaan, and that is what mahit has with her while she is embarking on this new job and new journey. when she arrives, she realizes really quickly that maybe this empire wasn’t very worthy of her dedication. the people of teixcalaan remind her that she never will truly be one of them throughout this book. she also is experiencing riots and uprising from resistance groups, while also seeing people in power using war as a source of profit for themselves. mahit getting very intertwined with the emperor and learns lot about what yskandr was doing during the fifteen years he was not checking in with lsel station. there is also a sapphic situation going on with mahit’s cultural liaison, three seagrass, who she meets when arriving to the empire, and who is supposed to kind of bridge the two cultures more easily for mahit, and assist her with anything she needs or does not understand. And they really make a connection of poetry, which is a big part of this world and story, and i just really loved reading about them – even though i know there is a lot of layers to this and it’s really complicated (which is also probably why i enjoyed reading it). this is a space opera, this is a murder mystery, this is a romance, this is about connecting and learning and loving other cultures that are not your own, this is about imperialism and the forever more and more and more colonization that comes from it. arkady martine really has created something powerful, and important, and real, yet also very beautiful and filled with empathy. this duology really deserves all the awards it has received, and a memory called empire really is one of the best books i’ve ever read. (also, it is my favorite book title of all time, i think, too!) trigger + content warnings: colonization, colonialism, use of the word barbarians talking about people who are others, death, panic attacks, mention of consuming ashes of someone, blood, bombings / explosions, talk of child birth, assault (unwanted touching), poisoning, wound descriptions, surgery, needles, riots, fetishization, grief, war, seizures, violence, loss of a loved one (friend), self harm (to get blood for an oath), suicide / sacrifice, and a lot of xenophobia goodreads | instagram | youtube | kofi | spotify | amazon | wishlist

[cinema-hallucinations]

Prompt: Angelo has an habit of ending in the most outlandish situation imaginable when he goes on group outings with his friends, so they had him RFID tagged and can track him on their cell phone. When Angelo predictable vanishes again, his friends track the signal, only to find what appears to be Angelo's severed hand. Write a movie concept based on this premise.

Title: Tag, You're Dead

Tagline: At least they know where some of him is.

Logline: Angelo, a walking disaster magnet, vanishes during a group camping trip. His friends, used to his antics, track his RFID chip only to find a severed hand - his hand. Now, a hilarious and horrifying chase for the truth begins, with Angelo's life (and remaining limbs) hanging in the balance.

Characters:

Angelo (30s): A charmingly hapless man with a knack for finding trouble. He's the glue that holds his quirky friend group together, even if it means they have to tag him for his own safety.

Brenda (30s): Angelo's level-headed best friend and the unofficial leader of the group. She's the one who spearheaded the RFID tagging system after one too many "Angelo disappearances."

Mark (30s): The conspiracy theorist of the group. He believes the severed hand is a sign of something sinister, much to the others' amusement (at first).

Stacy (30s): The sarcastic voice of reason. She's skeptical of Mark's theories but deeply concerned about Angelo's well-being.

Troy (30s): The clueless optimist of the group. He maintains a positive attitude even as the situation gets increasingly dire.

Plot Summary:

Angelo, notorious for disappearing during group outings, joins his friends on a weekend camping trip. This time, they've taken the precaution of implanting an RFID chip in his arm, allowing them to track his location via their phones. Of course, disaster strikes when Angelo's signal goes dark.

Using the tracker, Brenda leads the group to a clearing in the woods. There, they find a horrifying sight – a severed hand, and the chip is embedded in it. It's Angelo's hand. Panic sets in, but Mark, the conspiracy theorist, throws a wrench into the situation. He insists this is the work of a sinister organization, not a random act of violence.

Initially skeptical, the group soon finds evidence to support Mark's theory. Strange symbols appear near the campsite, and cryptic messages arrive on their phones. They realize Angelo's severed hand is just the beginning.

As they delve deeper into the mystery, they uncover a secret government program experimenting with human teleportation. Angelo, it seems, stumbled upon their hidden facility and became an unwilling test subject.

The climax involves a desperate rescue mission. The friends, armed with whatever they can find in the woods, infiltrate the hidden facility. They face booby traps, security guards, and the ever-present threat of Angelo being teleported to who-knows-where. Hilarity ensues as their lack of training clashes with the high-tech environment.

Themes:

The power of friendship and the lengths we go to for our loved ones.

The blurry lines between paranoia and real conspiracy.

Facing your fears, even when they are incredibly absurd.

Humor:

The film blends dark humor with slapstick comedy. The contrast between the friends' bumbling attempts and the serious situation creates comedic tension. Mark's outlandish theories provide comic relief, while Angelo's (hopefully not severed) voice on the phone, offering sarcastic commentary, adds another layer of humor.

Ending:

The friends manage to free Angelo, who (hopefully) hasn't been teleported into a million pieces. The ending leaves room for a sequel as they grapple with the consequences of their experience and the knowledge of the secret government program. Perhaps they'll need to use their newfound skills to help other victims, or maybe, just maybe, Angelo will finally learn to stay out of trouble (doubtful!).

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, KANON HISUI. 🌓

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: artemis age: 25 pronouns: they / she ooc contact: smearedcanvases @ twt / forgedsplendor @ tumblr other characters in xc: suguru getou

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: kanon hisui age: 18 pronouns: she / her series: ranger reject canon point: chapter 137 ( latest chapter as of writing ) app triggers: familial death, violence, imagery of / references to throat injury

personality:

kanon hisui is an animal.

kanon hisui is a feral, furious, violent animal.

what else can she be? who else can she be? her ordinary life was shattered a long, long time ago— taken alongside her innocence. she is like a kitten taken from its mother, in the midst of her weaning, tossed into the streets and forced to survive.

the fire in her heart is all that's kept her warm. the instincts in her bones is all that's kept her alive. she is an animal, guided by these two alone, and she growls and she bites at the hand that comes near.

she hates. oh, she hates. she writhes and she bites and she sinks her teeth into the flesh of her enemies. there is no logic to it. it is the pure, white-hot, bloody revenge of a cornered animal— one whose learned the face of the one who's taken everything from her and she will do all she can, blood rushing through her ears and vision blinded by red and white, to defy and hurt.

she was born to fight.

something your muse struggles with: hisui, under everything... is just a broken young girl. she's cocooned herself under so many layers it's practically impossible to find that person now, though.

your muse’s greatest strength: she loves her family. all the ones she's had: from her biological family that she lost at eight, the green battalion she lost years ago, to the new one she's found with chidori, angel, and fighter d.

history / background:

kanon hisui was only eight years old when her world was shattered.

even she is more than familiar with the irony of her own existence. there is no difference between her and any other girl her age; she was simply dealt an unlucky hand, and as punishment she was broken— like a twig snapped in two, splinters flying everywhere, now only ever capable of hurt.

and so she joined the rangers. and at ten years old, she became the youngest to ever graduate from bailong's nest.

it was always going to be the green batallion. she was always going to hunt down every single one of the executives and tear out their throats. yet even in their hunt she'd found her new pack— her new family. chidori. wakaba. tokiwa...

( she should've known. she always should've known. )

history repeats itself. another executive. another family, snatched from her hands. and kanon is left, all alone, to...

well. it is what it is.

she knows the hand she was dealt with. she simply forgot her place.

she puts on her mouth guard and continues to fight.

( ... )

( ... the little footsoldier. angel usukubo. )

( ... fine, sure. she'll take them in, too. )

powers / abilities: none. she's just a human! inherent abilities: none. stronger and more agile than the average human due to training, but nothing supernaturally exceptional. items / weapons: MOUTH GUARD. a divine tool replica. divine tools are weapons created by the human army a year into the war with the invaders; hisui's mouth guard is one of twenty-five replicas, and with its incantation to , ukemochi no kami, can basically "consume" incoming strong attacks. ... literally. chidori "burps" after comsuming one and kanon says "gochisousama" herself. on that note they can get "full" if there are too many strong attacks; kanon mentions being unable to take another bite after one.

starting ability: n/a starting item: mouth guard

would you like this character to be housed upon arrival?: yes!

extra: 

yeah she's from the power rangers anime... i know...

okay i actually have no idea what her age could be. because her family died from invaders when she was eight... which you would assume happened in the first year of the war, but that was thirteen years ago, making her twenty-one. but it also isn't entirely impossible for it to have happened sometime after that first year, as we know executives have killed plenty of people in between... there's also the fact that she also wears a school uniform and her dynamic with d and chidori is very younger sister. but its not like we know their ages either and chidori is absoltuely 30+ so her also being early 20s isn't unreasonable. BUT WHO KNOWS. so i'm going for 18 until we get confirmed ages.

discord id: ukemochinokami

[zsatuka]

HAIIIII HELLO!!!! I didn't draw her properly yet cuz I'm lazy as hell but here's some info about my OC Dottie! SORRY IF IT'S TOO LONG I COPYPASTED IT FROM MY TOYHOUSE ACC....AND SORRY IF THERE ARE GRAMMAR ISSUES AJFJAJ

Dorothy was born in 1936, she grew up in a dysfunctional family where violence was common. Her father, a respected doctor by day, was a deeply abusive figure behind closed doors. He ruled their household with an iron fist, often taking out his frustations on Dorothy and her mother. Dorothy learned early that people in positions of power could hide their cruelty behind a mask of respectability. The difference between her father's public persona and his private brutality created a fascination in her for people who lived with duality-good on the outside, but monsters within.

Her mother, terrified, stayed with her father out of fear, leaving Dorothy to look after herself emotionally. In this atmosphere of constant fear, Dorothy began to develop and unhealthy attachment to violence. As twisted it was, her father's power fascinated her. She learned that people who hurt others held all control. 

In her teenage years, Dorothy had completely detached from any idea of a normal, healthy relationship. In school, she found herself drawn to boys with dangerous reputations. She started dating boys involved in petty crimes, enjoying the sense of control and danger they offered. Her first serious boyfriend was a troubled young man with a violent streak. The way he acted against authority thrilled her, but Dorothy also believed that she could "fix" him. 

Their relationship took a dark turn when her boyfriend began directing his violent tendencies towards her. Dorothy, who always associated love with power and dominance, convinced herself that this was part of the relationship- making herself believe that love and pain were one and the same. After all, her father had hurt her mother, yet stayed together. Deep down, Dorothy began to see herself as a bad person, who deserved  the cruelty she received and she was drawn to people who could feed into that belief. 

Despite her personal life, Dorothy was highly intelligent and managed to direct her need for control into something productive--nursing. The medical field gave her a layer of normalcy, a place where she could exercise control over life and death, even if it was just through healing others. Becoming a nurse was a way for Dorothy to fullfill the chaos in her mind. 

But even with being a nurse, Dorothy's fascination with suffering and power never went away. She felt a sense of satisfaction in treating people's wounds, knowing that she held the power to fix or not fix them. Nursing allowed her to maintain a facade of kindness, but beneath that Dorothy felt numb to the suffering of most people. She did her job well, but emotionally, she remained detached from her patients. 

After her nurse carrier was succesful, she applied at Murkoff and got hired. When Dorothy began working at the Sinyala Facility, where experiments and trials on human subjects were a routine horror, she found herself surronded by people who were twisted as she was, if not more. It strangely felt like home- violence, control and manipulation were the norms. 

Then she became one of the nurses who took care of the new Prime Asset, Franco Barbi.

Franco represented everything Dorothy was attracted to: a powerful, dangerous man with a terrifying reputation in the outside world. He was feared by everyone else in the facility- however, Dorothy's behaviour caught his eye and they had an instant, unspoken connection between them. For the first time, Dorothy felt seen by someone who understood her darkest parts, and instead of rejecting them, he accepted it. His violent tendencies didn't scare her- they fascinated her. And unlike her previous relationships, Franco didn't direct his violence towards her. Instead, he was protective of her and took care of her in his own way.

Hello!!! We ( @lovesick-on-the-loose and I ! ) are seeking outlast trials oc friends here on tumblr !!! Mary and I wanna interact with your ocs! Have our ocs interact with your ocs, discuss headcanons, make little stories or comics or something !

I for sure don't talk to enough outlast trials ppl and i really want to know more ocs !! There should be more interaction between outlast trials oc creators !!

tumblr also sucks so i never see posts from the trials oc tag even tho i follow it ,,

thats all teehee 🤭