#unending jabs

[mochinomnoms]

jade tries to get his pearl PTM to join mountain lovers club, and tries to appear all suave and cool but instead floyd ruins it

"i found these beautiful mushrooms in the forest, would you like to join me, i'll need a hand collecting them for my terrarium"

"yeah maybe after jade will put you in a terrarium, shrimpy"

to get revenge jade helps riddle hide from floyd and these antics continue, until riddle and yuu are found at the same time drinking tea in the heartslaybul garden and the twins make a truce instead of ruining it more

Jade and Floyd do love each other dearly, they're brothers after all, twins at that! And family is the most important thing!

However they also fucking hate each other in a way that only two close siblings could. They can also plan each other's murders in a way that isn't concerning because they are siblings.

But murder is illegal, being annoying isn't though! A skill that both are excellent at.

So Jade is happy to tip Riddle of everytime Floyd is on his way. Though he's not his keeper, he knows his brother like no one else, and almost has a sixth sense of where he is.

“Hey Jade, where's my Goldfishie?” Floyd had a pout as he looked around the classroom. He'd just seen Bluebottle walk out, so he knew that Jade was meeting with him and Shrimpy for his potions project.

“Oh, Riddle left already.” Jade was peacefully cleaning up his notes, tucking loose papers into his folder and closing his notebook. “He was in quite a rush when I mentioned that you'd planned on stopping by.”

Floyd's head snapped over to his brother, eye twitching at Jade's self satisfying smirk.

“...And why'd ya do that?”

Jade cleaned up the rest of the table, tucking his items under his arm. As he towards the door, he passed by his brother, leaning in and giving Floyd a rare, evil grin.

“Payback.”

“Oh, fuck you asshole, that's how you wanna play it huh?” Floyd hissed, jabbing a finger into Jade's chest. “Too can play at that.”

And thus, led to just about a week of the twins sabotaging each other's attempts to get closer to their desired mates.

Jade had been overly 'helpful' with Riddle, tipping him off to an incoming Floyd or coming over to 'talk' with his brother, giving Riddle a moment to escape. He'd even gotten Tony involved, though the little sharkmer wasn't privy as to why Jade had asked him to hang out with Floyd more often.

In Floyd's case, he'd taken time out of his day to interrupt any private moments between you and Jade. Floyd was delighted in talking up a storm with you, slipping in little insults at his brother while at it, much to your confusion. In retaliation to getting others involved in their spat, Floyd decided to bring along Wynfred, which got Jade immensely irked.

It's not until the two are walking within the rose maze, searching for both of their mates, that they finally come to an understanding.

“I haven't seen my Goldfishie all week, and it's your fault!”

“I could say the same to you, every time I manage to get a moment's of peace between us, you come and disrupt the entire thing.”

“That's not the same! You still get to see them, I haven't even managed to take a look at his red hair all week! I'm gonna forget what the color looks like Jade! I'm gonna forget unless I see Goldfishie right now!

“Hmph, I hardly doubt that'll happen. Speaking of, where are our mates?” Jade sighed, peaking around the corner to see a dead end. “They said that the two were having tea in the maze, but I can't even hear their voices.”

Floyd paused, taking a moment to go on his toes and peer over the hedged.

“Hmm...I can't tell, Goldfishie has this rose perfume, but everything around here smells like roses.”

Floyd wrinkled his nose before moving to look at the other hedge, as Jade looked down the other pathway, huffing at the unending paths and walls.

“Oh! I see them!” Jade turned back around to see Floyd halfway over the wall, hissing as he dug his palm into a thorn. “Ow! Geez, stupid flowers.”

Hopping off with a 'hup!', Floyd jogged down the path past Jade, a blissful smile on his face.

“I'm coming Goldfishe~” Jade followed after, snorting at the giggles leaving his brother's mouth.

Jade smiled, despite himself. It was always nice to see his twin happy. He used to make fun of his enamor for Riddle, but after you came around, he's begun to understand why Floyd was the way he was around Riddle.

Floyd stopped, peeking over the corner with a grin, which promptly disappeared. Jade furrowed his brows, speeding over to sneak a look at what made Floyd upset, though it really could be anything.

Though, he had to give Floyd credit, he could see why he was upset.

You sat next to Riddle in a small clearing with a table set, drinking tea and chattering. Based on how Riddle was smiling and laughing, Floyd was probably jealous.

“...not fair.”

Jade looked at Floyd and tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Is not fair, why does Shrimpy get to make him laugh?” Floyd's frown grew as he pouted. “He never wants to laugh with me!”

Looking back at the pair, Jade felt his chest tighten at the scene. You looked so carefree and bright, like the sun shining through the waves. Floyd was right, it was unfair that you two never shared these sides of you with them.

“You're right, it's quite unfair. Why don't we go and try to get those cute reactions ourselves? I'll make sure Riddle doesn't run off, and you'll do the same with my pearl.”

Floyd grinned, giggling as and offered a hand.

“A truce?”

“A truce.”

The two shook on it emerging from their hiding spot and, rather loudly mind you, announcing:

“Oh Goldfishie~/My Pearl!”

If you were to ask the students of Heartslabyul, they'd say that yours and Riddle's screams of terror could be heard from all over the dorm.

[xythlia]

𓏲 ࣪₊➷ CAN I GET A KISS, CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?

› thinking about being the cute younger teacher & how much of a determined freak satoru would become learning ur a virgin idk he's ruining the idea of any other man for u babe

› satoru x f!reader

› word count : 2.5k+

warnings : loss of virginity, porn with a dash of plot if u squint, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, fingering, biting/hickies, alcohol consumption, praise, use of pretty girl/baby, not edited I needed to get this out of me like a possession victim getting an exorcism

You decided Satoru Gojo was a pervert.

It was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that you were a virgin, wholly inexperienced and totally at the mercy of his unending teasing. The little jabs he'd manage to work into conversation, or that he'd say in passing with that particularly cheery tone. It always made your chest burn hot with a strange mixture of desire and discomfort.

You should've never said yes to going out with the other instructors for a drink that night. Should've said something, anything when Ieiri burst out with "holy shit, you are a virgin aren't you?" but instead you'd drunkenly shied away, eyes wobbly and looking anywhere but at your fellow teachers.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

The days that followed made you think surely you should schedule a check up, Saturo without a doubt had a negative impact on the levels of cortisol in your brain but at the same time when you'd wearily collapse in bed at night he was still on your mind. Those whispered, teasing jokes about your lack of experience stuck on loop in your brain paired with thoughts of how experienced he must be in contrast.

Would he work your body over in ways that would make you sob into your pillow? The loose image of it alone was enough to leave you with a sore clit as your eyes drifted closed, your fingers still slick as his voice curled around your brain to drag you off into dreams so depraved they made you sweat getting dressed in the morning, feeling embarrassed about having to look him in the face during the day.

A part of you wished, again, that you'd have said no to getting another drink with him. Shouldn't have giggled like a school girl at the suggestion of coming back home with him, shouldn't have so brazenly straddled his lap while the faint aftertaste of gin clung to your lips as his tongue mapped your own in a sloppy, burning kiss.

The way his body was still so completely relaxed beneath your tense one intimidated you. You felt embarrassed at the idea of how awkward and jerky your movements must be, sure you'd kiss before but never with someone who so clearly wanted to devour you whole. It was comforting though that his hands didn't stray from your waist, as if he was acutely aware of your anxiety. Although the way his lithe fingers drew circles against your skin, slipped beneath your shirt, and dug into your flesh still made your hands shake against his chest.

"Sa-" you started to say his name but the breath was snatched from your lungs in another heated kiss, the way he overrode each of your senses.

Sliding his tongue past your lips again, somehow in the same lighthearted way he'd teased you. When his hands drifted down, out from your shirt, under your skirt to trace the hem of your panties against your ass you froze.

Without you needing to say anything he pulled back, and a fresh tidal wave of anxiety beat against your mind. You know he's hard, can feel it pressing against you through your clothes. He was the first man to hold you, touch you, make you feel like you'd swallowed hot embers that now seared low in your tummy.

You suddenly felt burdensome, ridiculous for instigating something you weren't sure you could finish. Guilt also mingled in your head, it was hardly fair to go through all this set up just to back out at the last second. Would he be upset with you?

You caught your bottom lip in your teeth, eyes searching his catastrophic blue ones for signs of upset. But none existed there, only meeting your gaze plainly and with an air of calm, like he knew this was going to happen.

Shyly you averted your eyes, holding contact with him for too long made your liquor buzzed brain feel like static shocks were rolling over it. Your breathing hitched as you whispered in the half dark.

"You... you can touch me."

The silence was deafening, making your palms grow damp.

You caught his blue eyes widening in faux shock, a lazy grin dancing across his lips. "Really? Can I touch you there?"

Your ears burned in humiliation as you pouted at him. "Don't say it like that!"

Your indignation was cut off into a small yelp as he manhandled you into sitting with your back pressed against his chest. Your head spun as he wiggled your panties down, inch by inch, fingers leaving scorched trails on your thighs. His arm came to rest against your tummy, one hand still at your thigh as he spread your legs with his.

His breath fanning against the back of your neck made gooseflesh rise across your arms.

"W-wait," you stammered.

He hummed over your shoulder, his voice dripping with arousal. "What now, hm?"

It would make you more nervous if you couldn't hear the smile in his voice.

"Wanna take care of you," you say leaning your head back so you could see more of his face. Satorus eyes were full of amusement.

"Do you know how to, pretty girl?" His hand caressed the underside of your jaw, thumb swiping across your lips.

"Sorta," you mumbled, chest feeling fuzzy at the thought, vaguely recalling porn you'd watched forever ago.

"Sorta?" He snickered. "What happens if you choke huh?"

Your mind went as fuzzy as your chest, something told you hes hardly the type to exaggerate his size. That and you could feel his erection pressing into your back.

"Pinky promise I won't choke," you whisper, making yourself breathless already imagining what he'd look like in your hands.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he spoke against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. "There's plenty of time."

His words were punctuated by feather light swipes of his index against your inner thigh, making you jump in his hold. Your breathing sped up, eyes fluttering closed and you gasped as his fingertips ghosted through your slick arousal, spreading your folds before concentrating on your clit.

It felt like a live wire pressed against you, tearing a sharp gasp from your lungs as you fought the urge to snap your legs closed. Meek whimpers rose in your throat as he barely circled around your clit, pressing soft kisses to your temple as your back arched ever so slightly away from his chest.

"Feels good?" He hummed against your skin.

You couldn't articulate words to answer with because at the same time he slipped his index inside you, so slowly you could feel his knuckles sliding past the ring of muscle as your body eagerly accepted the intrusion.

If you had the wherewithal you might have been embarrassed at how badly your legs shook with just that little taste, but thanks to his ministrations there was no room inside your head for anything except how good he made you feel. Gingerly he started stroking against your slick walls, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed on his lap and inadvertently pressed your ass down firmly against his painfully hard erection.

A breathy laugh came from above your head as he slid in the second finger, your hazy eyes seeing hungry amusement dancing in his own. Your lips parted, one hand coming to clutch his forearm in a tight grip but he never slowed the scissoring of his fingers inside you.

"Can't use your words?," he teased.

"Want more," you gasped out as your hips began rolling in fits and starts, awkwardly trying to chase more stimulation from him.

"Lemme take care of you, yeah?" He said as he pulled his fingers away. The absence of him made you whine again in response, but you didn't have time to pout as he helped you ease onto your back, his deft hands helping to strip you and toss your clothes somewhere across the room.

The only thing left on you was the pencil skirt you'd worn out, now bunched up around your abdomen as you laid in the dark, eyes taking him in as he pulled off his shirt, the blindfold also yanked from his neck and lost to the carnivorous floor.

This time it was you playing the role of pervert, eyes wide and drinking in the sight of him from chest to abs to the waist of his pants barely showing the top of his hips. Leaning back he undid the fabric confines with quick movements, letting his cock spring free to lightly slap against his abdomen. Your throat suddenly felt parched taking in his pretty, flushed tip as his hand gave a few quick pumps but his lilting voice snapped you out of your trance.

"That face your making's pretty lewd," you knew he was teasing again, seeing his teeth flash in the half dark as he came down to brace his arms on either side of your head. "It's actually really damn hot."

Your toes curled from the embarrassment at being caught ogling him so nakedly but who could blame you? You could tell from his grin he knew he was attractive, enjoyed making you drool over him.

You let out an content sigh while tilting your head back against the pillows as you felt his cock start to grind against you. The feeling of his weight on you was intoxicating on its own but you were itching for him, impatient to feel him inside you, eager to know exactly how he felt.

His fingers reached down again to spread your folds, middle finger swirling around in your slick. "You're already such a mess." He almost held a tone of awe.

He kissed his way from your cheek to your lips, grinning into the kiss as you spread your legs wider in restless anticipation. Using one hand he dragged your arms to lace behind his neck, resituating himself as he felt your fingers dig into his back already.

"Hold on to me." He could've told you to dive head first into the Pacific and you would've without thought. Satoru pressed another soft kiss to your forehead, a reassurance as you felt the first stitches of pain as the head of his cock nudged its way past your entrance. Your head tipped back, pressing against the pillow as your mouth dropped open.

Your cunt instantly clamped down on him, earning a few pants as he pressed his face against the side of your neck.

"You gotta relax, baby," he whispered raggedly against your ear.

You whimpered. "Can't-"

"You okay? Need you to look at me." He cooed, nudging his nose against yours until you opened your eyes already swimming with tears.

"S'okay, you know I got you, right?"

You nodded, feeling every bit like a crybaby as you clung to his shoulders. You cried out again as he pressed deeper, feeling your rigid walls relax into a smooth, throbbing pulse around him as he slowly bottomed out inside you. Your chest felt heavy, mind somewhere beyond empty as you reveled in just how full he made you feel, your nerves alight feeling him nudging against your cervix.

The pain ebbed with your every exhale, your pussy easing up on its stranglehold letting him know he could move.

"Knew you were a good girl," his light praises made your nails scratch against his warm skin. "Gonna take it all, right?"

His lips devoured yours before you could respond, nipping at your bottom lip before marking a sloppy trail down the column on your throat.

"Wanna hear you make those pretty noises again, can you do that for me?" He spoke between each hot press of his lips against your skin. It felt like you were on fire, doused in sweat and helpless against the feeling of him rocking against your hips.

Little did you know it would be ingrained in his head forever, the feeling of you clenched around him and practically dripping down his twitching balls.

Your hand slid up to tangle in his hair as he found a rhythm, slow deep thrusts that tore moans from deep down in your diaphragm. The smack of his hips against yours made you feel like you were melting apart in a sticky puddle, like hardened sugar powerless to warm water.

The sound of skin smacking felt dreamlike and far away as your eyes screwed shut, fingers tugging at his snowy locks.

Stickiness spreads, hot and thick, throughout your body turning your mind into a sluggish mess and you swore you could feel your heartbeat through your entire body, thrumming in time with every one of Satorus thrusts.

"Fuck," he groaned, "You really know how to get me going." He was unabashedly thrilled to be the one to reduce you to a teary moaning mess, the very first to ever witness it. Equally exciting was the thought that he was the one getting to mold you to his cock, claim you and make sure nobody else could ever make you feel as good.

Your voice was cracking, wobbly on the verge of wailing and you dragged him down to you, frantic lips on any patch of skin you could reach before sinking your teeth into his shoulder after a particularly brutal thrust had him hitting you just right, enough to make stars dance behind your eyelids.

As your pussy clamped down again one of his hands slid down to roughly circle your aching clit, making you squeal and release his shoulder. Rough groans rose from his lips, tongue lapping at the now blooming red splotches on your neck from his previous nips to the skin.

"Gonna make sure I'm the only one who can take care of you."

His words barely reached your ears as you sobbed feeling something like pressure pop deep inside your tummy, wailing his name like a prayer all the whole his fingers never left your clit and his hips never slowed, fucking you through your orgasm.

"Hold on baby, I gotta pull out-"

"No," you hiccuped, delirium curling through the word and making his head drop, teeth gritting feeling your slick heat sucking him back in and your legs locked around his hips.

Your distant, glassy eyes and sweat sheened skin made the case for you, he wasn't going to deny you, the pretty little thing blubbering for him so sweetly against the mattress. But his right mind won out, pulling out at the last second to give himself a few harsh pumps before spilling hot and thick across your belly.

Your unfocused eyes watched him stroke himself dry, feeling the slick mess between your thighs and the little pin pricks of soreness along your throat. It took some time to feel like you'd regained any control of your body, bones feeling more like jello as Satoru toweled you off.

That amused grin stayed lodged on his face as he laid beside you, pulling you over so you were curled against his side.

You whined, small and cracked as your hand rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart helping to ground you.

"What's the matter?" He mused, dragging his fingers up and down your back. "Can't do anything unless you tell me."

As you mumbled your request, eyes closed and avoiding his gaze, he broke out into a cocky laugh.

"There's always next time, don't worry your pretty little head."

[br3adtoasty]

Le Chasseur et la Colombe

On the relationship between Juno Tauber and Rook Hunt…

➽────────────────────❥

If there’s one thing Juno is best known for, it’s provoking people. And provoke he did. Not the hunter himself, no, but rather his queen.

It started in their freshman year. The first few times were just small comments that could commonly pass as faux pas;

“Your hair is sticking out a bit to the side, y’know~”

“A little heavy on the makeup today aren’t we, Schoenheit?”

It brought immense joy to Juno whenever he saw a crack of annoyance on the oh-so pretty mask of the housewarden.

Slowly, light jabs turned to insults and personal digs. It was only a matter of time that Rook had to step in before anyone got hurt. Rook, of course, readily defended his queen, and the hostility between the two would only grow from there.

Juno could never grasp Rook Hunt. Ever elusive, shrouding and hiding himself in shadows, there’s just never enough information on him. Not enough to comment on, nothing he can use to attack with, no weaknesses. And that damn smile that never seems to falter... It frustrates him.

Rook, le Chasseur d'amour, admirer of beauty, who sees grace in all things and who could sing unending praises for even the tiniest of being, finds himself at loss for words in the face of Juno, for there was none to be seen. Sure, Juno may be fair-faced, but what good is admiring an apple whose core is so inexplicably rotten?

While they do not outright attack each other when interacting, there’s always an uncomfortable tension in the air whenever they occupy the same room. Their passive aggressiveness thinly veiled in exchanged pleasantries and polite words.

If Juno ever decides to step out of line again however, the hunter wouldn’t hesitate to put the dove in his place.

➽────────────────────❥

Bonus:

[zeroeightzeroone]

selfish - hwang hyunjin 

genre: angst

pairing: idol!hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: reader tries to push hyunjin once

wc ~2k | moodboard

notes: if this looks familiar, it was originally posted to my secondary blog @zerothreetwentyfive so i'm republishing everything here on my main blog.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

"you left, hyunjin."

the two of you stand a couple of feet apart, eyes locked on each other. 

every inhale and exhale comes as a stuttering breath, your chest heaving as a result of the overwhelming emotion flowing through your entire body–the mere sight of the man standing in front of you sent your heart and mind into emotional overdrive. your mind screams at you, wishing it could jump out of your head so it could shake some sense into you–wanting to remind you just how much he hurt you, that you should hate hyunjin's guts right now. meanwhile, your heart clenches painfully but skips a beat at the sight of him. there's a battle between your mind and your heart–a conflict between resentment and the undying love you still hold for him. a love that continued to burn bright even after he left.

"you told me that night that i didn't need to be scared of you leaving," unconsciously, you're taking a couple steps closer to him, stopping just close enough to where you can jab your pointer finger into his chest in a harsh manner. with enough force to emphasize your next statement, "but you lied. you left."

your vision blurs as your eyes continue to well up with tears–tears that fall freely down your cheeks, tears that you make no effort to wipe away. the sight of your glossy eyes and the seemingly unending flow of tears that roll off your flushed cheeks has hyunjin wanting to reach out and wipe them for you–he so desperately wants to take your face into his hands, gently wipe away each and every single tear that falls from your beautiful eyes and comfort you, be there for you the way he should have been the entire time. but hyunjin knows too damn well that he's no longer in a position to be that person for you, he forfeited that opportunity when he walked away. he should feel privledged that you're standing this close to him, that you're wasting your breath speaking to him. his heart falls because he knows the animosity you hold towards him, after how much he's hurt you he knows he shouldn't be greedy but who is hwang hyunjin if he isn't selfish.

"i–"

"no," you shake your head, cutting him off, "don't say you couldn't do anything."

your tone is laced with so much emotion; the heartache, betrayal and anger mixed together as you practically spit the words at him. one pair of glossy eyes swimming with desperation locked on another pair that swim with distain.

hyunjin had an idea, but he couldn't–he didn't want to imagine just how much pain and suffering he had brought to you. he didn't want to know how much he hurt the one he loves more than anything else in the world but at the same time, hyunjin needed to know just how much he fucked up. he needed to know each and every mistake he made that pained you in any way, so he could learn from them, do anything and everything he possibly could to make up for his mistakes, and ensure that they never ever happen again.

hyunjin wants to know how he can mend the heart he so selfishly broke.

"there was always something you could do–you just had to want to do it."

you speak with a clenched jaw, tensed as you try your best to speak through your never ending tears as the words feeling like they're stuck inside your throat.

"if y-you wanted to, you would have. if you wanted to stay with me, to be with me you would have done anything to do just that. but you didn't."

your eyes search his.

"…do you know just how much i loved you?" a bitter smile falls onto your lips, "how much i sacrificed for you–for us! i didn't do that just for me, but because i… i wanted you, i wanted us! i wanted a life with you so badly. a future with you–for us!"

you sigh deeply, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm your emotions. a futile attempt but an attempt none the less.

"you said you loved me, and i believed you but you threw me away… you threw us away like i meant n-nothing to you."

your eyes remain shut. the sight of the man who broke your heart only inflicting further pain on you.

"if you loved me like you said you did. you would have tried harder for me. for us. for that future together, i guess… i was just me. i was the only one in love."

hyunjin snaps, "i love you! i love you more than i've ever loved someone, something, anything, everything. i love you more than anything in the entire fucking world! i always have and always will."

your eyes snap open and your hands move flat on his chest, you want to push him away from you.

"bullshit."

you try to shove him backwards but hyunjin grabs your hands in his. instead, he keeps his balance and you're the one who loses it, you're being pulled into his body, cheek resting on his chest. you hate how hyunjin's hands on you ignite a fire beneath your skin, everything you missed and longed for the past couple of months hitting you all at once: the warmth radiating off his body onto yours engulfs you whole, his heartbeat is loud and clear due the close proximity and your ear against his chest that you feel rising and falling with each and every single breath. you hate the immediate comfort and the way your body curls up in his arms, you hate how much you love and missed the feelings that a mere touch from hyunjin ignites throughout your whole body. you hate it that you love it so damn much that you cry harder into his chest as your heart races in your own.

"don't lie to me."

you shake your head frantically. in hopes that shaking it enough would change the past, the reality you currently live in. maybe if you shake your head enough you would have never met hyunjin, if you never met he would never end up leaving you, he wouldn't have shattered your heart and shown up the way he just did. maybe that would extinguish the ache nestled inside your heart that's spreading through your body like a wildfire.

"d-don't you dare fucking lie to me, hwang hyunjin."

"i-"

"y-you can't tell me you love me more than anything.. when.. when you left me just like that."

your tears continue to fall and soak the fabric of hyunjin's shirt, his own joining the mix. he tries to hold them back, knowing he doesn't deserve to cry when he's the one at fault but it's no use.

"you didn't fight for our love–for me… why did you leave me? you went silent for so damn long."

the strength in your legs falter along with your emotional composure as you fall into hyunjin's chest. your balled up fists grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt, further staining it with your tears.

"you left w-without an explanation."

hyunjin's hold on you tightens as he ensures you don't fall while at the same time, with every intention to hold you tight and never let go–something he should've been doing the whole time.

"why did you show up now? huh?"

a whimper leaves him as he feels your body shaking in his arms.

"y-you don't hurt someone you love l-like this."

you're crying so hard that you're hiccuping too much, the words leaving your lips incoherent blubbers.

"i'm sorry."

his voice comes out hoarse and incredibly quiet.

"i'm so fucking sorry," his eyes flutter closed, squeezing them so hard more tears roll down his cheeks, "i-i know i've made terrible mistakes, mistakes that have hurt you so so badly that i don't deserve to even have you close to me right now."

"you think s-sorry is going to f-fix this?" your response is sharp, "you t-think sorry is going to erase t-the months of heartbreak i went through because y-you left?" 

he shakes his head even though you aren't looking at him.

"d-do you think the word sorry is going to change how... how m-much I blamed m-myself for the past couple of months? t-that it was my fault you di-didn't love me anymore?"

hyunjin bites down hard on his bottom lip, the weight on his chest gradually increasing with your words, your tears seeping through his shirt and onto his skin.

your voice trembles, tone cracking and faltering due to how overwhelmed you are, "w-why? tell me why... please."

"...i didn't leave because of you. i l-left... i left because of me, because… fuck… i love you. i know you don't believe me but i do, i r-really do. I'm so in love with you, it fucking terrifies me. my–... god… m-my life can be a lot, and subjecting you to the eyes of everyone in the world, knowing how brutal and unforgiving people could be, absolutely scared the shit out of me."

hyunjin's body is trembling, you feel it against your own. you keep quiet, even though a small part of your brain is telling you to hurt him the way he did you. however, you bite your tongue as hyunjin takes a breath and gulps.

"no one, absolutely no one deserves the relentless, negative comments that people in my industry get no matter what we do. i didn't want you… someone w-who didn't choose this job, to be in the spotlight, t-to become a target for people to spew relentless hate to."

a few days before hyunjin left, there was a meeting at the company–a meeting he never told you about. a small group of fans had found handfuls of evidence surrounding the possibility that he might be dating someone, the rumours didn't phase him, and it wasn't the first time he was wrapped up in them. what did phase him was a tweet that included a low-quality photo of the two of you and his blood ran cold, his whole body felt limp as he read the replies under the tweet.

the rumour was small enough that it didn't capture the eyes of mainstream media or large publications, but the rumour went around enough to fall into the hands of people wishing you nothing but terrible things. the fact that they had a photo of you and knew what you looked like scared him shitless. he had seen more than enough despicable comments about you during that meeting, ones that had him sick to his stomach–his heart dropping at the possibility he put you in harm's way. hyunjin demanded that action be taken immediately.

the reality dawned on him then.

anyone associated with him, confirmed or not, would receive the most heinous comments and their safety would be on the line. he didn't want to be the reason you no longer lived a normal life, the reason you couldn't live the life you worked so hard for, the life you chose. so with a heavy heart, he left.

"i love you so much that i-i had to let you go…" his tears fall onto the crown of your head, "i didn't want your safety, your life to be in jeopardy because of me."

"what? w-what are you talking about hyunjin?"

he squeezes his eyes shut, the memory of that meeting stayed vivid and fresh in his mind, despite it being months after it happened.

"t-there was a rumour about me... us. they had a photo of you... it was incredibly low-quality b-but that doesn't matter. t-they said shit that scared me."

"hyun-"

"i've heard stories, horror stories, about what could happen and I didn't want that, fuck.. it scared me to think what if it happened to y-you? i-i didn't want to be the reason you were ever unsafe or hurt…you don't deserve that. i f-figured i'd rather see you happy with a-another man... safe and living the normal life you worked for."

"i-i don't want anyone else, i only want you hyunjin."

"i-i... but loving me comes with so many risks... so many more sacrifices that i-i didn't want to put you through."

you lift your head from his chest, meeting his bloodshot eyes, "but loving you comes with you, hyunjin. i don't care about the risks and sacrifices of it, as long as it's for you and with you at the end of the day, i would do anything."

hyunjin shakes his head, "n-no don't say that. you would only grow to hate me and the life i dragged you into."

one of your hands moves to cup hyunjin's cheek that's similar to your own, damp with tears, stopping him from shaking his head and keeping his head still as you look into his eyes, "i love you. i chose you a-as the person i want to spend the rest of my life with, i chose to share my life with you. you aren't dragging me into anything, i'm choosing to step into that life, your life, because i'm so in love with you i don't want a life without you. i can't imagine a life without you."

hyunjin searching your eyes, looking for a hint of fear or hesitance but he sees nothing. he doesn't understand how you could love someone like him when his career could put you in danger.

"w-why did you show up?" you repeat your question from earlier.

his gaze falls away from yours, his cheeks flushing, "because i-i... i wanted to see you.… i missed you so much that it hurt. i thought seeing you happy, one last time. if i saw that then it would tell me i made the right decision but…"

"i'm not happy."

he nods.

"but-"

"but what hyunjin?"

"it's selfish," his eyes graze over your face, your head angled in confusion, "after everything i-i put you through when i left, to ask you to come back to me knowing everything. t-to love me again. it's selfish of me to ask you to take more risks and sacrifices that come with my life."

"i don't care if it's selfish, be selfish, for me. for us. please."

this time, hyunjin's hands come up to cup your cheeks, his eyes locking with yours. teary eyes boring into each other.

"i'm selfish. i'm so fucking selfish."

your hands move to his wrists, holding them there.

"i'm selfish in the way i love you more than anything, that i want–that i need you more than anything. that i want you all to myself after everything i've done to you."

he inches closer to you. 

"i'm selfish in the way that i will do everything to ensure that you're mine, only mine. i'll do everything i should have been doing. fixing all my mistakes and making up for them, doing everything in my power to keep you safe, i don't know what i'd do if something happened to you... i-if you let me, i will spend the rest of my life doing anything and everything to fulfill my selfish desires of wanting you to love me, and loving you for the rest of our lives."

main masterlist

[slyvester101]

Headcanon for Crash from... Crash because I'm rewatching the show and I need to let out the bees buzzing in my head for this show.

It's known that Crash like his quiet time. He's not one for loud noises (thus his dislike for Duke's explosives) and when it comes to look-out duty, he's usually first in line.

Sure, part of it is because he needs to time alone to recuperate, especially after a day dealing with Team Fixer's nonsense, but it's mostly because he's hypersensitive to noise, to the point that he gets pounding migraines if he doesn't get his allotted quiet time.

In fact, Crash is hypersensitive to most things. He wears his armor almost constantly because if he touches a texture he doesn't like, or god forbid get something sticky on his hands, his whole body lights up like fire ants are biting at him. And yeah, Duke teases him for wearing gloves everywhere, but he'll take the jabs than shock his senses with a bad texture.

Lights are also something he's sensitive to, not nearly to the same degree sound and touch are, but it's still something that can kick up his migraines if he's somewhere bright for too long. Luckily, his HUD keeps the worst of it at bay, dimming the brightness of the world outside his visor so he can comfortably observe his environment.

That being said, Crash has a lot of experience dealing with his sensitivities over the course of his military career, even more so after meeting Peanut and Duke. Long shifts on look-out duty, knowing every excuse to end unending conversations, waking up early so he gets first pick to food, all of it mastered and applied to help him avoid excess noise or sensory issues he'd rather not deal with.

(It helps that after a certain amount of time, conversation with his team feels less grating on his head and doesn't kick up his migraines as much. It's... comfortable. Easy. Not that he'd ever say that out loud.)

[wolven91]

Breelu & Moisés - Birthday Surprise

Despite the steep incline, Moisés found that he was barely out of breath, yet he still had a mildly concerning light headedness about him. He hadn't been able to shake the faint vertigo all morning, but he'd honestly expected to feel worse from the hiking. Moisés took a moment to rest, although found that he still didn't need to 'catch his breath'.

Breelu was waiting for him up ahead, his magnificent blue and white feathers with the black highlights always captivated the human, he was surrounded by shin high flowers, that parked the edge of the winding path up the mountain. The flowers were upside down, the petals protecting the plant.

Having already asked when they had first started their journey, Breelu had explained that the flowers open at night and tiny insects that light up make it a sight to be seen. The young man had made a mental note to come back here before they left the avian home planet and went home.

"Nearly there." Breelu offered, as Moisés trudged the few steps that separated the two.

"So, is this not, like a popular place?" Asked the human as he gazed across the gigantic forest treetops.

The avian home world capital was as alien as any city had come before. The avian home was covered in a genus of trees that put red woods to shame. Their whole city was built within the bows of these colossal natural towers. The air was warm and clean with only areas of necessity demanding that they clear the forest for landing pads and energy plants.

Moisés had joked that he'd never guessed that Breelu was an 'elf'. The joke missed unfortunately as the translation came across as 'fae' which, thanks to the draconians, translated as slang for humans.

"Of course this is popular. This is one of the most famous pillars in the area." Breelu retorted as he looped a scaled arm around Moisés's shoulders where a taloned hand slipped beneath the human's arm and held him to the avian's fluffy hip.

"How come we haven't seen anyone then? We've been walking for a good hour, and no one's passed us, either up or down."

Breelu's laugh echoed off the rocky wall and into the tree line that was abuzz with its own life. A large blue, white, and black wing buffeted Moisés causing dirt and wind to pick up ever so slightly. The human flinched and briefly raised an arm to defend his face, but the wing merely hovered there.

Until the penny dropped.

"They fly up don't they?" The young man asked, rather sheepishly. He had often fallen into the trap of thinking Breelu was a human, just a taller, feathery human. But that wasn't the case. Breelu's claws and sharp beak were an evolution as a dedicated hunter of the sky. All avians thought with the concept of a 3D space. They were not tethered to the ground by something as mundane as gravity.

"At least you're pretty." The large avian chuckled, jovially jabbing Moisés's bruised ego.

"What else do I-" But the human's words were lost as they finally made it to the top of the spire of rock. The spiralling path had finally deposited them high up into the sky were the trees that grew in the lower areas fell away. A threatening gust assaulted the pair, but Breelu weathered it stoically while his arm and wing caged the human in place. Moisés didn't falter with Breelu's firm hand supporting him.

The human was awed by his uninterrupted view the world.

There was no other word than 'awe' to describe the unending sea of trees that covered the planet from pole to pole. To his east, was the Haratooa Mountains, the wood pillars there were thin and whistled as the winds blew through them apparently, whereas to the south was the great forest sea, not a 'sea' in the sense of open water, but the forest there grew in a continent sized basin. The deeper one walked, the closer the trees grew and the darker the world became, until one made their way into the subterranean world of the aracnae.

The avains ruled the skies, whereas the aracnae ruled the ground and all that was below it. Whilst the avian home world was large, it was hollow; two species called this world home and shared it as such.

"This is amazing." Moisés whispered.

"Happy birthday Moisés." Whispered Breelu back, squeezing him into his hip once more while the human hugged him back, rubbing his cheek into the silky soft feathered of his loving partner.

"This is the best present." Declared the young man happily.

"Oh. Well. this. isn't your present?" Explained Breelu haltingly, suddenly more concerned that the avian may have missed his mark with his idea.

"It's not? What.?"

Breelu revealed a harness, already placed on the mountain top inside a bag that Moisés recognised as Breelu's.

"I thought you might want to go for a trip?" The giant birdlike alien offered gently.

"Are you sure? I know with me, we're too heavy for flight. It's a strain for you." The human retorted, not wanting to tire his lover out. This view was good enough for him, he didn't need to go any further if it was an effort.

"On the station, yes. But here? Above the thermals from the underground lava runs? Moisés, would you like to know what it's like to truly fly?"

== 0 ==

A mere ten minutes later, there was a human strapped to the front of a crouching avian, so the shorter of the two could stand on his own feet. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face as he looked out over the sheer drop of the mountainside. If he fell right now, it wouldn't be much of an issue; the path down was only about ten or twenty feet down.

"I'm going to shove off from the edge to clear the mountain, so it's going to be a sudden jerk first, okay?" Explained Breelu helpfully.

Damn.

Without asking for permission, the avian coiled in an almost imperceptible manner, before his powerful legs exploded outwards, launching the two into nothingness. The weakened gravity of the planet still pulled at the human, but the harness held him in place as the avian at his back wing's opened and he was pulled soring into the sky.

Moisés could feel the heat of the thermal updraft washing over him despite only seeing the mountain fall away and treetops everywhere else. His fists gripped the straps of the harness has the man's heart fluttered in fear and panic as he eyed the ground nervously.

"Chin up!" Called Breelu directly into his ear, over the wind that deafened him to most other noises.

Obeying the human lifted his chin and saw the horizon.

A beautiful rainbow of colours as a foreign sun with strange wavelengths played with an alien atmosphere. The human's eyes watered from both the wind that stung him as well as the beauty that assaulted his senses.

Moisés felt the curve of Breelu's sickle-like claw tickling his fingers, gently easing his grip until the scaled arms took his hands and spread his arms wide.

With his chin up, his arms spread like wings, the young man discovered the sensation of flight and was immediately in love.

A euphoric sense of freedom washed over him as Breelu gently steered them along the valley, following the invisible thermals that raised the pair up and into the sky.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[yaut-jaknowit]

Gawtin x fem Reader

Immortal reader (similar to dark souls 2) dresses up like ancient Egyptian. Gawtin journeys to this planet to find worthy prey only to find it dead but many alive counters reader killing one of the bosses dies gawtin thinks she was was unworthy only for her to emerge from the gate of fog and fights the boss once again to succeed. They Incounter each by the reader thinking gawtin is a boss. Reader to win in the end Gaston acknowledges her they became companions then soon dating mages (?)

(Ignore this if u don’t wanna do it😻)

Life Comes Back

Paring: Gawtin x GN!Reader

Summary: Day in. Day out. Life. Death. You've experience every death possible. This is a cursed life by the gods. As you've grown accustom to this unfortunate life, you are faced with a new opponent you've never seen before.

Word Count: 4382

Author Note: I didn't know if you wanted me use this ask or the other so I decided to go with the one that's anon just in case. Thank you for responding and clarifying. I was trying my best to decphier what you wanted from me. Thanks for the ask! I'm also working on others and 'The Monarch' at the same time. Bare with me!

P.s. We've hit 1K followers!!! Thank you all for this wonderful achievement. Don't worry, I'll get to working on those smutty Vic'tao and Uihoy drawings!

Masterlist

Ao3

A cycle. An unending cycle. Life. Death. Everything between. You’ve gone through it all, experience more than ever before. You don’t know where you go nor do you remember what happens after your heart stops and the life fades from your eyes. Countless times, you’ve searched out, attempting to find your mangled remains before. Yet, there was nothing to find in the end. Not even the blood that had been spilt. All gone from existence as you reappeared once more.

Countless years ago, you remember the world as lush, green, filled with joyous life. People thrived and celebrated, happy as can be. Well, until Famine hit and ruined all to be.

Cries of despair were all that you remembered as the last sounds of your people made. Temples to the gods were starting to tremble and collapse. The upkeep far too hard for them to sustain as the mighty people of Egypt fell. Though, it wasn’t just them.

Every established colony or country fell like dominos. Just one after another before all that was left was you. The need for food or clean water was no longer desired. It felt as if your body became numb to all once you became alone on this planet you used to all home.

If you believed the loneness and never staying dead was bad, the creatures that crawled from the pits of the Duat. Monstrous, disgusting beings that killed everything in sight. Including others of their kind.

Like you, they where a never-ending cycle of kill and return. Every kill was never about food, not a single bite taken from the caresses. You don’t count when they swallow you whole as consume you for nutrients truly. It was just a way to kill you, not even swiftly either.

Despite the uselessness of it, you learned how to craft weapons from the metal of deserted cities you once lived in. Armor decorated your body and protected the best it could from any acid, fire, or smacking blows the monsters threw at you. Every time you lost, was a time to learn, to adapt further in this new, endless life. To better your weaponry and armor to protect yourself from them.

As this life went on, you wondered if this was some sort of punishment from the gods above. Why you, out everyone that had lived upon this planet, were chosen to suffer? You had no clue or a beginning to understand their reason. This was life that only gave hardships and cruelty in the wake of your existence.

When will be the day you could join all the fallen in the Field of Reeds? A peaceful ending.

The armor that adorned your body was heavy, uncomfortable. Some ends jabbing into your side as you traverse the land. Years on end have helped you study, learned the pattern of these creatures that hunted. Where they migrated, where they hunted at each time of the year or day.

Nights, cliché enough, were the absolute worse. Night is where you had to stay awake, rarely needing sleep anyhow. No wonder why your city believed you to be a goddess walking among their people. Night terrified you.

Day was okay. The light seemed to scare off the majority of the monsters back to the cracks or holes they wormed their way out of. Some didn’t seem affected by the change. Those were the blind ones. No eyes to spot their prey from miles away. Dangerous as they could be for sensing you, a tall structure or caves you or ancient people dug out helped. Anything too small for them to stick their grubby hands into and make you into a corpse. Not that you wouldn’t just reappear back on this planet in a shimmer of glittering sparkles.

As the sun fell, the ground trembled and groaned as it released the most dangerous of the monsters possible. With an exhausted, dead groan, you shimmed your way out of the hole and exposed yourself to the darkening sky.

Glittering sparkles, like the ones you create after you die, began to reveal themselves in the blackening sky. Khonsu’s moon, just a small sliver of the silver sphere. The time when the god is his high of power. You grinned lowly and stretched out your aching muscles. It had been some time since you’ve last been wiped off the planet for a short time.

Every time you were ‘reincarnated’, your body would feel like new, rejuvenated after a gruesome death. The pain that occurred every death was just annoying at this point. Yeah, it hurt. Once again, you have grown numb to this life and the suffering all it brought to you.

Dents and long scratches marred your armor. Your older skin has bright, fresh scars that will be gone the next time you reappear. You pulled on the straps of the gauntlet on your left arm for it to be firm against your skin. One wrong move can have you gone.

As the monsters all over the planet clawed and fought their way to the overworld, you prepared yourself for another night of fighting. The years have molded you to adapt to every situation possible. To every monster known to you and the gods. The quakes the earth bellowed begin to quiet and relax until all was calm. A false sense of security any rookie would fall into.

For your time alive, you believed you have seen everything. Everything humanly and monster-like possible. But the gods were cruel to you.

Either you’ve grown rusty from the lack of deaths these past few weeks, or the feeling in your stomach caught you off guard. An ambush had you trapped in the city you once lived with your family and friends.

Creatures that had big, consuming eyes stared at you. Their gnarly, inhuman arms that doubled the amount of limbs that you had carried their mishappened bodies. This type of monster hunted in packs, rare and unfortunate for you in your state.

The slight change in the air had you rolling forward. Talons, ready to sever you from the land of the living swiped at the spot you once were. You were back on your feet and facing the monster while you unsheathed your sword to defend yourself. A creature you’ve come to call the Nurok circled around you.  A move you knew. The Nurok tried to push you in the direction it just came, towards the others to jump you.

Years of experience aided you. Instead, you bullied it back towards a building on the verge of collapse. The attachment you felt to your decrepit city has long faded away from your heart. You armor protected you from the harsh attacks of the Nurok as you drove it back, back, back. All the way until it’s rump met the unstable wall. Carefully, you crouched down and grabbed the biggest rock you could fit into the palm of your hand. With all of your might, you chucked the stone at a spot that held of the majority of the wall.

Like a dam releasing water, the stone wall fell on top of the Nurok and effectively burying till it died. But, the battle wasn’t won.

Snarls and howls from its pack members were cried into the night as four other Nurok purposely lost their high ground advantage. Your face twice with a battle cry and charged at them, fed up with the beginning of the night.

Your sword, sharp and expertly sharpened whistled in the air. Each step pounded against the pathways that once filled with life and bustling people. People you loved and cared for.

Shin guards protected you in a slide underneath a Nurok and shoved your blade into where you believed to be its heart. The noise it gave would be heard for miles, drawing other monsters to the battle. You had to scramble out of the way before the thing came down upon you. The blade now coated in a sticky, black substance that reeked of rotting death. You’re numb to it.

A Nurok charged at you with its eight spidery legs that were angled at an unsettling way. You barely had time to throw up your sword to deflect it maw of razor sharp teeth and long tusks ready to gorge into you feeble body. Its black tusks clashed into the metal of your blade and pushed. Your muscles strained against its strength. The balls of your shoes slid over the stone pathway, effectively overpowering your human body.

From previous fights, your body screamed from lack of rest and constant work. It pushed you, straight towards what’s left of their pack. As a fight and survivor, you weren’t about to let them win this easily. You release a yell from the pits of your chest and rolled backwards.

It’s full weight was against your sword. At the change of force, the monster barreled over you and into one of its packmate. Both of them smashed into another building. Years of wear and tear with the force of two thunderous creatures brought the stone down upon them. Three down, two more to go.

Back on your feet, you faced off the last two Nurok that have yet to fallen. Sweat stuck to you like a skin second, armor feeling gross hugging to your body. Both uncomfortable feelings were snatched from within and shoved into the depths of your mind. Thoughts like could distract you, catch you off guard and kill you. Not that death was permanent when it came to you.

Your sword was still slick with black blood of the first Nurok. It had ran down the length of the metal coated your hands and hilt. You struggled to hold onto the leather bound hilt as you watched the two Nurok closely. Your chest heaving with deep breaths, beads of sweat falling down your face to pool around the collar of your shirt.

These things had no collective thought between them as they stomped after you. The only truly color you could spot in the low light of Khonsu’s moon was their red, distinctive eyes. Their spider like legs stabbed into the ground as they stole space between you and them.

You didn’t give them chance to attack first. Instead, you rushed them like a barreling bull. Like the goddess your people once thought you as, you dodged to one side only to feel tusks ram into the armor that protected your back. A surprise gasp tore at your throat. You were thrown into the air and crashed back down onto a stone pathway.

All the air that once filled your aching lungs was forced out. The best in the moment you could do was lie on the ground before your instincts snapped alive. You rolled out of the way of a sharpened foot and switched to a short sword. It cut clean through the Nurok’s leg, weakening it.

That wasn’t gone win you this battle though. You were back on your feet, ignoring the way your armor dug into your fleshy body more than usual. Your hands shook with adrenaline as you stared down the creatures. Then, you sprinted at it once more, ready for the battle to be over and done with.

A move that would cost you this life.

Despite the aching muscles in your leg, you leaped up into the air and held the sword far above your head. In a ready to strike position to defeat the second to last Nurok, you had unfortunately left yourself open for an easy attack. A lesson you would learn once you were reincarnated.

In slow motion, you watched as the Nurok reared up with a screech that could cause your ears to bleed. With its two front, shorter limbs, it stabs them through the air and piercing through the weakened armor near your belly. The usual pain that exploded from the unfortunate loss didn’t faze you much. You still fought like a cat backed into a corner, heaving your sword into its neck before everything went completely dark.

.

From her stance on top of a structure ready to collapse from the slightest movement, she observed the fight through the dark. Her mask aided her as she took note of the way this smaller earthling fought. Coordinated but not. As if it was self-taught without a proper teacher to guide them on the way to surviving a harsh, dangerous life.

Why she was here? Like many of her kind: to hunt and gather trophies. Her hunt sisters have spread about the planet to collect what they deemed worthy. She, on the other hand, has stopped to watch this event unfold before her.

The itch of the hunt boiled underneath her thick, scaly hide. A dark green which aided her in the forest but this was a desert. Dry and desolate. That she thought of.

Not this humanoid figure that fought viciously. If only she had gotten to it first. Its skull would be a fine addition to her collection back on her home planet. Now, unable to aid it to survive, all the hidden being could do was watch and wait. Patience was something she was first instructed to learn about. If you could not wait for your prey, you weren’t destined to be a hunter. That’s where younglings were divided.

Once the battle grew to a close, she saw something that would ruin everything. It did the first thing you weren’t supposed to. This solidified that it was self-taught by this last action.

These insect-like creatures took the open chance that this humanoid figure willingly gave. Two red tipped tusks were shoved through the metal of its armor. All it gave was a shortened, airily groan… like it was an inconvenience. With one last blow, the smaller being rammed its blade into the neck of its opponent.

Disappointment filled her chest as it fell limp on the tusks. Dead. A skull she could not retrieve. It was not hers for the taking. Her mandibles clicked against one another.

She began to stand and take her leave when glimmering night that lit up the street captured her attention. Bright, sparkling lights burst from her former prey and fell to the ground. She looked back towards the tusks only to find the armor left. Not a body nor blood.

Uncertainty filtered into her neon green blood. The being tensed up and unsheathed a blade, purple eyes scanning the area around her. Had the creature actually die or somehow have an ability to teleport? Once you’ve explored the universe a few times and seen many, many different aliens, anything was possible. Her mandibles chittered.

In a bright light, noks away from the former winners, a body formed from nowhere. Like a force unlike any other, it reappeared without a scratch and ready for this to end.

D’yeka.

Of all of her years as a hunter, mother, and explorer, Gawtin has never come across something like this. Like a newly blooded, she could only stand in bewilderment as this thing rushed them again. As if it didn’t just come back from the dead like Dhi’ki-de. This got her heart thundering through her ears as she wished for that fight to end so she could start her own.

.

In a birth of glimmering light, you appeared further down the street. In this new body, the old aches and pain were wiped away. All you were left with was the tone muscles you were glad to keep. Everything else, including armor and clothing had been abandoned, stuck to the creature’s face. The Nurok wildly shook its head to get rid of the offending article. All while the other stared at its pack member in confusion.

You used the opening to your advantage. Quiet, calm, you stalked up to them and swiped the first, longer sword from the ground while moving. Before either of them had a chance to notice you, you sheathed the sword in the side of one. The Nurok without the clothing on its face gave a screeching cry, alert its friend to the trouble.

With a grunt, you twisted the blade and shoved it further in to cause as much damage as possible. The thing gave one last croak before falling at your feet, gone like a light. You pulled the blade once more from it and stared down the last Nurok.

Out of all your time upon these grounds, you’ve never seen emotion from any monster. Either it was an illusion or trick of the eye, you believed to see a flash of fear within the blacks of its eyes. A snarl crossed over you face as pounced again for the last time. You struck and left the creature unable to think. One swing after another, cutting at its skin like meat.

The Nurok bellowed out a roar that rumbled the ground before lowering its head. A move you read within a second while the next you twisted out of the way. You shoved your sword once last time into the creature and watched as its guts spilled onto the ground. A heavy smell of death wafting up into the air, one you’re quite use to.

After it fell to its finally resting place, you marched over to its head and retrieved your shorter sword and weapons. The armor was, unfortunately, unusable. You would need to start over… again.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, your senses lighting up to another contender. The adrenaline that still filled your body rushed back in full force as you swiftly scanned the surrounding area. Yet, your search came up empty. Not another, living soul in sight. You couldn’t just shake off the feeling though.

Naked like the day you were born, you lugged your battered weapons to the smithery close by. Something stopped you though.

In a low shimmer of blue light, a humanoid figure revealed itself to the darkness of night. A monster you’ve never seen before. It’s body similar to yours in shape but its face covered by a mask of metal. Expressionless and cold. The main difference you first notice was the dark, possibly green that colored its skin.

Tonight has been dreadful, killed again. Now, with a new opponent stepping into the ring, you were irritated and grouchy. With either sword in your hands, you stared down the monster. And just stared, observed the soft rise and fall of its shoulders.

Then, it took a step forward. You reacted swiftly, like lightning. Your toes dug into the light dirt that coated the stone street as you launched yourself forward. It was your hardened instincts that drove you for survival. After the events today, you were on guard, ready to lash out on the dime at any movement.

That you did.

This thing wasn’t like anything you’ve met before. It raised its aforearm and blocked the downward lash you preformed and kicked out a leg at the same time. For the second time this day, the air was shoved from your lungs as you smashed into a structure behind you. Ringing in your ear began. You dropped down onto the ground in heap of pain and broken bones.

Blowing painfully through your nose, you rose back to your feet and gripped only one sword this time. The other lost during the flight over here. The monster looked like it hadn’t moved an inch from its spot. You huffed an amused chuckle with a smirk gracing your face.

Despite the pain this thing caused you in once kick, you marched back over to it. The creature morphed its stance to a fighting position. You stopped where you were and cocked your head for a moment before doing the same. This thing had intelligence. It was acting different compared to anything you’ve face before.

You felt the unfamiliar, cold, trickling feeling of fear run a path down your spine. The sword you welded trembled slightly, not from the adrenaline this time. Now, you had to think of strategies you hoped it didn’t know of. You had to plan this thoroughly. And survive.

It launched itself at you, faster than you could blink. A gasp tore at your throat as you rolled to the side to dodge the incoming attack. The second afterwards, you threw up the sword and blocked a deadly slash from three pronged weapons in either hands of it. The power behind its force was enough to rival the Nurok’s you just took down.

The ground aided in a sturdy backbone to keep yourself up as this figure attempted to kill you. This was nothing new. Just go through the motions.

And win.

One of your legs kicked out swift into the side of its knee. A harsh hiss sounded from its mask as the creature was forced to kneel down. A new opening revealed to you. One, you took. You lashed out with your blade without remorse. It was able to twist its body enough to only receive a glancing blow on the dark skin of its lower side.

Bright, glowing, green goo dribbled from the freshly opened wound. Your eyes widened at the sight. There wasn’t a single creature from the Duat that has ever bled this color before. What was this thing?!

Its own weapon came for you. Despite the size of it, it didn’t move like any monster you’ve seen before. This creature was better, faster, stronger than what you’re used to. You barely moved enough to only have one of the prongs jab into your side. The pain was nothing but a minor inconvenience. You unsheathed a small dagger in time to ram it into the figure’s arm.

A hiss and rapid clicks is all you got before its hand wrapped around your throat. You were lifted clean off of the ground and held before its eyeless gaze. The grasp tightened before you had a chance to even know what was happening.

This wasn’t the last time you would fail.

Like before, you appeared in a shimmering of bright glitter. Unfortunate for you, your weapons laid at the monsters feet. Deep down, you had a feeling it would not let you even get a chance to grab them. You cracked your neck and fell into a stance to entice the thing to walk away from them on the ground. Anything to let you get your weapons back. To make this a fair fight.

But… it kicked at the sword’s hilt and pushed it towards you. The weapon slid to a stop at your feet. Your eyes darted between the sword and the monster. This was a game you didn’t know how to win or play properly. You had infinite lives to survive but how long will this dance go on?

Time and time again, till Khonsu’s moon was chased away by Ra’s sun, you were killed more times you’ve ever fallen in a week alone. This last round, after you reappeared like any other time, you collapsed to your knees and looked up tiredly at your opponent. You could not die nor win against it. This would be an unending battle like your own life.

The figure walked up to you, feet entering your vision to stop in front of you. Defeated, you raised your tired head to gaze into the void of where its eyes should be. You were ready for it to bring down its own weapon to kill you all over again.

A green hand, a green that matched the jungle you’ve been too, entered your sight. The palm turned upright, its weapon gone. An offering.

After everything you’ve endured during this night alone, you just stared at the hand. A tired, exhausted look in your eyes. The creature curled its fingers in a ‘come here’ motion. Defeated, you placed your hand in its and was yanked to your feet. The blazing warmth of its scaly skin released its hold.

With both of its hands, it reached up to cup the mask it wore. Something you finally noticed in the morning light. That wasn’t it face but just a metal mask that adorn its face.

Two tubes were from the side of its mask, hissing like Nurok. Carefully, it pulled the metal away to reveal… something you weren’t expecting. From all the monsters that roam the overworld during the night, this thing wasn’t the ugliest. The purple of its eyes struck you hard. A color you haven’t seen for years.

You mouthed ‘wow’, attention captured by the beauty this figure held in such small orbs. Out of everything on this planet, this was the first time a monster stopped. Was this a sort of truce?

The longer the two of you stood there, you began to become nervous. This was different than anything you’ve ever experienced. A monster stopping to reveal its true face to you. Was this a horrible dream of peace for just a moment?

Now that it was day, the level of threat has gone down significantly. Yet, the blind, trickier critters now come out to prey upon you and each other. Then you realized, the monster hadn’t gone back down to the Duat. What was this thing? You didn’t know how to feel about this thing in front of you.

Then, it moved its arm. You reacted back jumping back and getting into a defensive position. Your heart thundered in your ears as you watched as it pulled something from a pocket. Calmly, it held out its palm with the item towards you. Timidly, you reached out and swiped it.

A pocket knife. Small, durable, and extremely sharp. You looked back up at the monster and dipped my head in appreciation. With it’s strange face, it lifted its mandibles into a smile and returned the gesture. Then, it turned and began to tapping at the gauntlet on its arm. Strangely enough, some bright and glowing red appeared. You gasped!

Magic!

As if your world couldn’t turn more upside down, something revealed itself hovering in the sky. By the gods! With the graceful leap of a cat, the monster jumped into an opening of this thing. One last look at you and it was gone.

And you thought you had seen it all.

[etruatcaelum]

🍁 + Summer, how do you think your kids will react when they find out what you’re doing? Is there any chance of swaying them?

“Well,” she sighs, “let’s see…”

From atop the sundered tower, sheltered from biting wind by the talons of the petrified wyvern, Summer can see the snow-bound ruins of Beacon laid out like a map: grimm in their unending motion, a black maelstrom circling the tower. Lifeless rubble sinking into the white. Glynda’s encampment, in the distance.

“…I only left them, faked my own death to do it, joined up with the enemy, started the war I’d tried to end, attacked their school, killed their friends and classmates—” Sundered Rose had still been clean by the end of that night, unstained by innocent blood, but she doesn’t think that matters much. “–Yang lost her arm, Ruby ended up in a coma, and I’m still here. With her.”

Little icicles stab down from the arch of the stone talon; Summer snaps one, idly tosses it to the wind. Deadpan: “I think they’ll be thrilled, obviously. Mom of the century.”

She made her choices. If she could change any of it, Summer can’t truthfully say she would.

“I don’t think I would’ve been a good mom even if I’d stayed,” she admits, quietly. “Nobody who knew me before would believe that—I’ve read the fucking obituaries. I know how they remember me–” Her mouth twists. “Perfect mother, perfect wife. Perfect huntress. I–”

More icicles, broken and thrown off the tower one by one. The thing is…

“Raven,” she says, “was such a great mom. Like, before she left. Better than I was, when Ruby was that age, but Raven’s… not what you’d call warm and friendly. She can’t be all sunny smiles, happy housewife—that’s just not who she is. I could do that. I could bring over home-baked cookies and coo about what a cute little baby Yang was and sing while I did the dishes and that–” a bitter chuckle. “—that kinda… Tai made some real out of pocket comments during those last like, eight or nine months before Raven left, let’s put it that way. Kind of thanking me in a way that felt more like jabs at her. I didn’t really… I shouldn’t’ve let him, but—well. Hindsight.”

Summer chews on her lip, scowling.

“The… point is, I think Raven actually wanted to be a mom. I didn’t. I just wanted to do right by her kid, and then Ruby happened and I– don’t… get me wrong, I do love my girls, but I- if Tai weren’t so over the moon about Yang getting a little sister, I would’ve just aborted. I didn’t want that life–”

(Inflicting silver eyes on a baby still feels like the worst thing she’s ever done.)

Her breath billows out in a long ribbon of steam. Mom of the fucking century, alright.

“Forget ‘swaying,’” Summer grumbles. “That ship sailed when we did all this.” She thumps a hand on the wyvern’s talon. “I’ll count myself lucky if this thing ends with the Brothers gone for good and me on speaking terms with anyone on Ozpin’s side.”

[dark-ambition]

((Ok, watched episode 5 and I have some thoughts on some broader theory stuff I’ve seen across the dash that I just have to voice my own opinion on. This is not me trying to debunk anyone’s theories, merely voicing my own two cents.

I’ve seen the fandom trying to vaguely theorize that Alastor has somehow made it in romantically with Lilith and that’s particularly why Alastor suddenly tries to make himself look like a father figure to Charlie while Lucifer is there, out of some spite toward a perceived ex, and also why he showed up to the Hotel, in an effort to keep an eye on Charlie, Lilith’s daughter. To be frank, I don’t think Alastor and Lilith are in a romantic relationship. I think the notion that he’s gotten in with Lilith and in some sort of romance with her while it’s heavily implied that Lilith is the one who has Alastor’s soul on a leash is….very unlikely, to say the least.

My main proof being this scene with Alastor and Husk.

Husk says the words “big talk coming from someone who’s also on a leash” and Alastor IMMEDIATELY stops dead in his tracks. His eyes turn into dials, which the only times we’ve ever seen him do is when he is LIVID, like “I’m close to tearing someone to pieces and I am giving you one more chance to BACK OFF” level of mad. He asks Husk to repeat himself, with it obviously not being an actual question and more of a warning to not actually repeat himself. It’s rhetorical, and it is dangerous.

Husk, recognizing this, despite all the times we’ve seen him talk back to Alastor and not even so much as receive a warning, DESPERATELY tries to take his words back as he is suddenly chained by the neck and YANKED to the floor, so hard that he starts to CHOKE. His ears are pinned back, he is stuttering, he is PANICKING, he is recognizing how much of a HORRIBLE mistake he just made, and rapidly realizing how much danger he is in.

Alastor approaches Husk slowly, literally winding the very chains binding Husk’s neck around the cane of his staff so each and every loop makes the chain tighten until he finally pulls it as taut as he can make. Holding it tight in his hands like he’s about to rip Husk’s soul right out of him at any second. The threat he is making to Husk could not be anymore crystal clear here. He is NOT fucking around.

It shows on Husk’s face, he is TERRIFIED, scared absolutely beyond words, to the point where he is cowering on the ground, not moving an inch as Alastor towers over him, green chains still wrapped tight like a vice around his cane, until they finally dissipate as he bends down to prop Husk’s chin up with his microphone. He is beyond furious, he is livid, and he is giving Husk the clearest most transparent warning a man like him can give: Say that again and I will fucking kill you.

And it’s only when Husk makes it clear that he understands does Alastor finally relax, his posture relaxing, the tension leaving his body, the icy cold glare leaving his eyes, replaced with an almost smug grin. He knows Husk gets the picture now. He knows Husk won’t ever jab at him with those words again, or else he’ll face the consequences.

Then what does he do? He snaps right back into classy jazz and happy smiles like nothing fucking happened while Husk is left shaking and trembling on the ground.

Clearly, someone also happens to have Alastor on his own leash. Clearly, someone, somehow, has claimed ownership over Alastor’s soul, much in the same way Husk’s soul is owned by Alastor. And clearly, if the mere MENTION of it is able to set Alastor off SO much that he threatens to KILL Husk and subject his soul to unending torment and misery at the drop of a hat when EVERY OTHER TIME Husk has mouthed off to him being something that Alastor just shrugs off like it’s nothing?

It is something that Alastor is FAR FROM HAPPY about.

It is clearly something he HATES. He DESPISES the fact that someone is owning him, controlling him, it makes him so beyond angry that he drops EVERYTHING he is doing to threaten Husk who dared to use it as a means of getting back at him for his behavior. And if Lilith is the one to own his soul like so many people are speculating, if Lilith is the one that is pulling the strings on him from behind the scenes to have him stick around the Hotel and watch over her daughter, clearly this scene highlights that he loathes the fact that she has any modicum of control over him, has any way of being able to order him around.

And I for the life of me cannot see any situation where that somehow turns into a romance. Let alone one where Alastor is infatuated with Lilith and despises Lucifer purely on the basis of him being Lilith’s old husband. I just can’t.

[externalconceit-1]

"So are you supposed to look like that or was it some unfortunate mistake?" (Teenaged Mara)

@thefastestaround

The External peers down at--who is that pretty little thing down there? 'The Maximoff line,' she realizes, taking a sip from her enameled teacup. 'That lot'. Really, it's too much power for one family, especially with the volatility of the mother's mutation.

What was her name? The tall one with a gift for yelling? Wolf?

'Wolf. It's been done to death.'

Well, never mind. The child certainly has her father's charm.

Shar's floating high enough that the Maximoff girl looks more like a pale smudge than a child, and she purses her lips. Coils of blonde hair writhe about her head like snakes as she taps one finger against the corner of her mouth with an 'mmm-hm' of thought.

Has she spent enough time connecting with the mutant youth? She's been on immortal time for centuries now. All she has to do is blink and someone has grandchildren. That's the way of things for an External. She's built her unending life around the reality that mortal lives burn bright and hot as a candle flame before--poof! Gone.

At last, she calls down, "I am quite eye catching today, aren't I?" the wide smile on her face indicating she isn't bothered in the least by the jab. If the girl can read her expression so far below at all. "Weighted down by gravitas, you might say!" Her voice carries a strange echo then, as if she's standing at the bottom of a well, calling, calling, calling--

Her voice rings, wrapping around Mara's skull like a vise before loosening its grip.

Oh dear.

She reels it in a bit, patting her hair into a state of stillness before dropping like a stone.

(Hero crouch!)

Shar lands with an utter lack of sound, her skin lit with color as the air around her gives a pulsing shudder. Then, she straightens, waving one hand up at the teacup still hovering in the air.

(Plop! It drops right down into her hand without spilling a drop of tea.)

She takes another sip of the Krakoan herbal blend before bustling toward the Maximoff girl, her impractical heels clonkclonking against the dirt as she gives her a critical once over. "Terribly sorry, dearheart!"

Brisk. Brisk brisk!

"This island has made me a bit--" here, she tilts her head to one side, waggling the fingers of one hand by her temple as she offers Mara that big, oddly shiny smile again. (Cuckoo!)

"What's the word..." The blonde falters, chewing on her bottom lip as her brain tries to catch up, catch up, catch up. "My mutant perspective is--out of whack?" Hm. She half turns her back to Mara, murmuring to herself, "no, no, not the droids you're looking for..."

[west-tokyo-incidents]

There is something wonderful about Mother, making a place for everything in its body.

CW; emeto mention(brief), torture, blood, general insanity ensues.

The glow of sickening yellow-green not-bile pulses within great spires. Spires that drool from ceiling to floor like the awful trail of saliva from one's lips to the floor after a sudden vomit. Hundreds of them that sway and threaten to break in an unfelt breeze. Spires made of twisting black metal and tech. Spires thicker than buildings at their thinnest point.

Here are contained the prisoners. Those who dare to hide information from The Facility are here. Mother’s Intestines is the deepest pit of the Facility. Within the spires are the twisting hallways of the Intestines. Claustrophobic doesn't begin to describe it. Every path is jammed with wires and struts, doorways often hidden by some new growth of tech like scar tissue. Labyrinthine and comparable to catacombs, some of the halls have to be squeezed into, black, hot metal threatening to burn every inch of flesh that touches it.

Avaro clones of clones of clones scurry back and forth and back and forth, from one place to another to another on the ceiling. Carrying information, carrying tools, carrying laughter on their tongues as hands reach desperately out to try and grab them. Constant, unending noise. Few clones even resemble anything more than their animal, if even that. Disposable, repeatable, nothing but clones so far removed from their original that no semblance of humanity remains.

There are only cells here for the humans. The doors to them are the most often obscured, and being forgotten in one of the dark, too-hot, closet-sized rooms is torture of its own right. But they're never here for long. They spill their information eventually, they're not allowed to die. It takes a human who can resist Regula or Jealousy to even get here and those are few and far between.

The douji who must be interrogated are all but crushed into the moving walls. Walls of Mother's own flesh. It would be comparable to being shoved in a locker, but a locker would at least have airflow. Those that are lucky to have airflow are perhaps the most unlucky. A sharp needle jabs through the holes that let air in, injecting or extracting at the whims of its bearer.

One would think with the powers the Facility holds that such... barbaric things are pointless to them. Or that if they're needed they would only need a few rooms for intense interrogations. But there are endless timelines. Hundreds of billions to sift through. And the Administrator is a patient man.

Torment and a handful of their... associates... are the only people who stay in these halls of their own will.

The rat king; an Avaro instance with no specific name, the center of the swarm in these depths.

Bile; a Sophia instance who's moral compass is lost in some metaphorical swamp.

Syphon; an Ultimo instance who's utterly convinced that what he does is good and justified.

And finally Torment themself.

Garion would usually rarely bother coming here himself. The halls are far too taxing on his bad leg and really, getting blood in his hair is SUCH a pain...

This room is one of the few places one can stand straight without brushing a wall just by breathing, and Garion's slim figure takes up most of that space. In front of him is a rig that could be seen in the secret basement of a suburban couple's home just as well as it could be seen here. An x frame rig almost comically plain and simple juxtaposed against the complex, breathing machinery of the walls.

On a vat of something, his little mimic robot chirps out something. Bile giggles and mocks it right back from somewhere unseen. As their voices deteriorate from playful copying to distorted mirroring from repeated repetition, Garion's eyes don't move from their place. Sharp blue, once dulled from boredom, are laid upon the figure strapped to the rig. Whatever they are, whatever timeline they're from, whatever they've done trying to escape this fate, it doesn't matter. He can barely even see them for his hate.

A light brightens and then dims behind him. A latch clicks shut. Something brushes against his back, but he does not move.

"Admin!" A deep mechanical rumble of a voice above him feigned surprise, as if they didn't know why he was here, "We dont see your pretty face around here often. And with such a lovely gift."

Garion doesn't move except to blink slowly.

Impatient--some would even dare say nervous--clicks come from the one who entered. The mechanical voice begins to speak again, but this time the higher, almost playful tone is gone.

"What do you need out of them, Administrator?"

The silly mimicry nearby screeches to a halt, Bile catching on and listening as he notices his beloved's voice change.

"I need to know how they got to Fusaji."

"Who--" The fusion is cut off by an Engrave from the Administrator. A vision of a Fusataro instance bleeding heavily onto a very nice looking kimono, hiding himself as deep as he could into a corner. Terrified. The memory is colored with anger, fear, but most importantly relief and overjoy at finding this instance alive. Until this 'Fusaji' flinches away. Hurt in such a way to flinch even from his lover.

Lover.

As the memory abruptly ended, a low rumble rippled under the sounds of the moving metal and the scratches of not-mice on the ceiling.

"I understand."

Garion turns to face the fusion, his eyes finally landing on the opaque black mask.

"And once you have that information," a painfully fake smile spreads like a mold on his face, "Don't stop. Have all the fun you want."

He pushes past, ignoring that a sharp piece of metal from the fusion cuts a hole in his sleeve. Trickery clicks its tongue and jumps off its perch to follow quickly after as its master leaves the small room.

"Oooooh, the Intestines have a VIP now!" Bile giggles and kicks his legs. The large vat on the Fusion's back drops to the ground.

"So it seems!"

[asgh-youtube]

Kh-thoom

Kh-thoom

Kh-thoom

The heavy hammers of Everforge 3449 ring out through the surrounding area. Just as they had yesterday. Just as they should tomorrow. The surrounding forge-city has grown quite accustomed to the ear-shattering klangs, some elders even boasting on how long they can last without head-phones.

"2 minutes 39!" One shouts in between klangs, broken smile plastered across her face.

"3 minutes 14!" Another one barely eeks out, nearly cut off by the klang.

This conversation continues on as the shadows from the near-forgotten sun pass through, slowly inching towards a night just as bright as day. They descend deeper throughout the layers, inching closer and closer to the forge itself.

Here, there are no contests. No joyous smiles. You work from AM to AM, getting those desperate few hours of rest in between. This would be a day just as any other, but the local (though a stretch of the term) ultralite has come to monitor his production and pat his back with stolen gold.

The workers, mind you, continue on just as they do every day. They reaffirm to themselves that they are to be grateful for the ending of death. To not wish for it's come. That work is an unending payment for an unending life. It is hard to not wish, though.

They won't have to wish much longer.

Kh-thoom

"Model F9-22397-SCY," reads the 'anvil'. Set to produce a harvesting tool for one of the highest luxuries, grain. With every calculated hit, the blade deforms into its designed shape. This is one of the highest efficiency anvils in the sector, producing at a rate of 6 a minute. The workers, monitoring every movement to check for inefficiencies, watching every monitor to keep the anvils running, are paid 5 cents more than their comrades

A high, high amount.

Kh-thoom

The anvil slams down once more, providing a stark shadow to the embers of other forges. Serial number 34982-723790785342-3449 is completed, sent down the grinder to sharpen.

Kh-thoom

Again, there is a brief darkness, a small respite, provided to the workers of this anvil. Work on 34982-723790785343-3449 begins as its predecessor sharpens, shredding through hardened material and ears to provide the tool its cutting edge.

Kkkreeeeeeeeych

The sharpening is finished, and it glides near graciously down the belt, nearer to the Overwatch station. Ultralite Jackson Adams, named after figureheads long ago forgotten, watches very closely as it goes down the belts, its successors following along, not far behind.

"Just as magnificent as always, Foreman," he booms, smile wide across his face. The foreman tries to share such a feeling, and almost presents himself as such.

The Ultralite continues watching, near entranced with the magnificence of his work (deluded though he may be about who put in the effort), as rolls down the belt, getting closer to the Overwatch room. And closer. And closer.

Thhk

The Ultralite jumps back.

The scythe embeds itself into the glass, cracking it but not causing it to shatter just yet. That would be the job of the reaper.

The thing of shadows jumps out of nowhere and nothing, glding towards the glassand colliding with the scythe.

Now, the glass does indeed shatter.

Khrk-rackk

Shrrrack!

The Ultralite falls down to the ground, along with his assistants and the foreman. The reaper and their scythe do not.

The first of the assistants, a person who may not be dead but is certainly dead, draws a baton, charging foreward just as they had time and time again.

The reaper takes hold of their armed hand, quickly disarming them (in a much more literal definition of the word disarm). The reaper wields the armless baton in their other hand, with one quick jab sending it through the heart of that already dead assistant.

The next draws a gun, letting loose shots quickly masked by the ever-present banging of the hammer. Shots which reach a place where the target once was, but is no longer. A ghastly hand from behind grasps her by the throat, effortlessly raising her high and chilling her to the bone.

Neither are dead, however much they may wish.

The Ultralite, dumbfounded by the possibility that one might dare go after him, looks the reaper dead in the eyes.

And laughs.

"Who are you supposed to be, hm?" He questions, face reading cocky.

"Death." Death answers.

The Ultralite lets out short, strained laugh.

"Death is locked away, buffoon. You can file your complaints on progress and its inevitability with my secretary."

"There is but one inevitability, and you found yourself too much a coward to face it."

"It has been a long, long time since anyone feared Death."

"And that just makes it all the more sweet."

With one swift slice, and a tumbling of a head to the ground, Death reconquers part of its throne.

And soon, all the rest.

Many ages ago Death was defeated and sealed. Immortality is the norm, but the loss of death has lead to a society of ultralites that rule over never dying slaves. As Death’s first reaper after the unsealing, you are here to remind them why Death exists… and why your master should be feared.

[whatsammyloves]

"this is not a story of courage. it's not a story of miracles. it's just a simple story of love.

undying love that a man had for a woman, unflinching love that a woman had for a man and unending faith that god had on their love. i ended up discovering love. love that breaks you but still keeps you together. love that creates distances but still brings you closer. love that is true and forever. i learnt that if you have the power to love like that, then god makes sure that your love finds its way. all you have to do is just hang in there and wait, wait for your time."

—Akira | Jab Tak Hai Jaan (2012)

[strxngertogether]

[ crying ] sender finds receiver crying Violet - Aemma

@storyofwhoiam

Aemma knew she should've asked for all visitors to be sent away. It was a bad day. She hadn't been able to sleep even for as long as half an hour, pacing the halls at all hours with the only reprieve being the two baths she had drawn for. Her head felt as if it was being split open, her spine twisted and pulled, the bouts of dizziness, barely able to keep down any food, tiny little hands and a head jabbing into her lungs as if trying to break through the organs or the bones that encased it; she could go on and on. But the worst was the severe and unending terror that she would never hold this child or perhaps she would and mere days later, they would perish all the same. She would not survive a sixth, certainly not a seventh or an eighth.

"Violet," she greeted with surprise through a sob, trying to quickly wipe away any tears and plaster on an at least half convincing smile. She was good at this, pretending, but it was hard to convince someone you were fine when they'd already seen your tears. "I wasn't aware we had plans?" She was sure they didn't. She hadn't had plans for weeks and had barely left her own home for even a bit of fresh air in the past week as she spent most of her time either resting, bathing, or pacing.

Aemma hesitated, debating whether to send her away or invite her in. She could not play amenable host today, but she thought Violet would understand. Perhaps it would be nice to have a friend over in these trying days. "I'm afraid I can't provide much in the way of pleasant conversation, if that's what you're looking for."

"I think this little dragon has decided to feast on my insides." She attempts a joke, but she just sounds tired.

[aloy-sobek]

The Emperor had little to work with when choosing a face for Proserpina, so much of her brain had been jabbed and craved away; forced to grow a new. However there was one face that still remained. The name of the was woman long gone, and her voice had turned to dust, but all he needed was her face.

That face. Proserpina couldn't quite place it. Had she seen this woman before? Yes of course, this guardian was helping her.

Than why did a knot build in her stomach. Why did the Guardians face make Proserpina want to wretch, cry, scream with joy and laugh. Seeing the Guardian was a whirlwind unlike any other. That woman's face filled Proserpina with deep unending guilt and a immense longing to reach out and touch her just "one more time."

Proserpina was happy her time with the Guardian was short. She could get on with more important things, like heading to Moonrise and traversing the Underdark.

[axolotldaydreams]

a forbidden server of my minds (the physiology of god having a bad thought)

part two・‥…━━━ °｡ ｡ •｡ :･ﾟ✧

by: meena sidlak-sidlak ft. A.I.

A draft saved for further processing, manifests as a paradox. She is a child again. Trapped in a gilded cage of opulence, a rich childhood that feels stifling. A haunting specter of the rich childhood, twisted into a grotesque caricature. The deleter's role in the tableau of the subconscious is to intercept and transform the invasive thoughts, the harmful echoes that threaten the harmony of the mind. The deleter has begun its work, the anti-mnemonic slowly transmuting the cage into a golden bird. The child watches with bated breath as the bird tests its wings, the promise of freedom lingering in its tentative flaps. The transformation is not yet complete.

In the haphazard theater of her mind, the thought of self-destruction takes the stage as a tempestuous performance. She is a lone mariner, adrift on a roiling ocean of despair and her sails are shredded. The deleter, always vigilant, intercepts this thought, carefully infusing an anti-mnemonic, morphing the stormy seas into a serene lake, the chaotic winds into a gentle breeze. The mariner, once lost, finds solace in this newfound tranquility.

The second thought stems from the supernatural possession at 15. It takes the form of a monstrous shadow, a nefarious puppeteer looming over the mind's theater, the strings of control yanked by an unseen puppeteer pulling at the psyche. She is the marionette, each jerk of the string sending ripples of terror through her. The deleter intervenes here, severing the strings with an anti-mnemonic blade. The puppeteer shadow transforms into a benign cloud, a harmless apparition drifting aimlessly in the subconscious sky.

The third thought is a cruel echo of the father's teasing, a hurtful jab at the undiagnosed autism. It is a surreal auditory landscape, where his insensitive words incessantly echo, bouncing off the walls of her cognition in an endless loop, amplifying the confusion, the sense of otherness. The vigilant deleter, with a gentle touch, weaves an anti-mnemonic silence, muffling the echoes, reducing them to a faint hum, a whisper gradually fading into oblivion.

The final thought is tied to the insectile imaginary friendships, a strange comfort that became a source of betrayal. This thought materializes as a swarm of insects, each embodying a broken trust, a friendship turned sour. The deleter descends once more, implanting the anti-mnemonic that transmutes the insects into harmless butterflies, symbols of transformation and new beginnings.

A new draft begins to render. It airbrushes a world gripped in an unending loop of the pandemic. She is aboard a ghost ship sailing through a foggy time, where days bleed into nights, weeks merge into months, and years are a hazy blur. An altered reality where time is adrift in a limbo, suspended existence.

The deleter steps in, weaving an anti-mnemonic fabric around this thought. The spectral figure transforms into a chrysalis in a tranquil cocoon, the limbo into a period of gestation. She's no longer trapped; she's evolving, growing, preparing to emerge into a world that, despite all its changes, is ready to welcome her transformed self. She stands on the ship's deck, the salty spray of the sea a sharp contrast to the antiseptic smell that has permeated her life off-board. She looks around, the ship is brimming with life. Faces behind masks are no longer faceless. The scene around her is a collage of disjointed images - a worn-out teddy bear signifying a child's battle against the virus, a half-done puzzle speaking of quarantined families rediscovering connections, a dog-eared book hearkening back to the solace found in stories during lockdowns. The air is dense not just with the physical remnants of an ongoing pandemic, but the emotional debris of a world in flux. It's a movie unfolding in real-time, each scene etched with the indelible ink of shared human experience.

The deleter stands by, watching this thought. It doesn't intervene, not this time. This thought, though stemming from a pandemic, is now part of her. A testament to a world that has changed and a self that has adapted. The ghost ship continues its journey, carving a path through the foggy seas, leaving behind a trail of resilience, of survival, a shared odyssey of a world that refused to succumb.

However, this thought, this ghost ship sailing through the pandemic, is not an enemy but a companion of her journey. This thought, albeit born from chaos and uncertainty, is a thought that has grown, evolved, and matured with time, no longer a threatening invader, but an integral part of her cognition. The deleter recognizes the value of this thought, acknowledging that not all thoughts stemming from difficult circumstances are harmful. Some, like this one, are essential reminders of our potential for resilience and growth during challenging times. This thought doesn’t need transformation, but acceptance and understanding. Thus, the deleter steps back, allowing the thought to remain, to continue its journey through the subconscious seas. In doing so, it emphasizes that even in the face of adversity, there are experiences, memories, and thoughts that we don't need to delete or forget, but rather embrace, learn from, and carry forward.

Is it a risk to their job when they give rite of passage to some invasive thoughts?

The decision to allow certain invasive thoughts passage poses an intriguing paradox to the deleter's role. On one hand, they are tasked with maintaining mental harmony by mitigating harmful thoughts. On the other hand, they realize that some invasive thoughts, once matured and understood, can serve as profound life lessons and markers of personal growth. This selective permitting does pose a risk, both to their conventional function and the stability of the mind's ecosystem. Allowing an invasive thought to remain could potentially disrupt the mental equilibrium, or trigger a cascade of similar thoughts that might be harder to manage.

However, the deleters, ever vigilant and adaptive, understand that their job isn't just about deletion or transformation, but also discernment. They must distinguish between thoughts that merely cause discomfort and those that cause genuine harm. In this delicate balancing act, they evolve from mere custodians of the subconscious into its wise counselors. They understand that growth often sprouts from discomfort, that resilience is built from confronting, not avoiding, challenging thoughts. In giving a rite of passage to specific invasive thoughts, the deleters walk a tightrope. It's a risk, but one that might be necessary for the overall growth and resilience of the individual. The deleters take on this risk, aware of their responsibility, and prepared to intervene should the thought prove too disruptive. In essence, they are not just maintainers of mental harmony, but also facilitators of personal growth. It takes certain calculated risks in the execution of their job, resulting in a more nuanced approach to managing the intricate landscape of the subconscious. They must adapt to changing situations, unpredictability of thoughts, and emotional climates. They are not invasive thought modulators for nothing.

As for the compensation, it's hard to quantify in real-world terms due to the abstract nature of their work considering the complexity of their job, the 24/7 schedule, and the high stakes involved, a figure like 1500 to 2000 Philippine Pesos per hour could be a ballpark figure. In terms of skills and qualifications, a deleter would need a combination of high cognitive abilities, emotional intelligence, and perhaps a thorough understanding of psychology. They would not necessarily require a medical background, but a deep understanding of cognitive and emotional processes would be a must. The ability to process vast amounts of information, identify patterns, and make quick yet accurate decisions would be crucial for a deleter. Given that they operate within the realm of emotions and thoughts, a high EQ would allow them to navigate this space sensitively and effectively, understanding and empathizing with the emotional content of the thoughts they encounter.

It's a curious irony when one considers the hypothetical financial value of managing thoughts, especially when compared to the physical effort of generating them. The actual value of maintaining mental harmony, navigating emotions, and promoting personal growth goes beyond any monetary figure one could assign. It's a priceless endeavor, crucial to our well-being and fundamental to our human experience. So, while the deleters might hypothetically have a high salary, the real wealth lies in the thoughts and emotions they manage, the memories, ideas, and feelings that make us who we are. In that sense, you're both the CEO and the richest shareholder of your mind's vast empire.

When we experience negative thoughts such as anger, resentment, fear, or depression, our body perceives these as threats. In response, it releases stress hormones, primarily cortisol and adrenaline. These hormones prepare our bodies for immediate action - heart rate increases, blood pressure rises, and our senses become more acute. While this response is helpful when facing immediate threats, its prolonged activation due to chronic negative thinking can lead to several adverse health effects. Constantly being in a state of 'fight or flight' can lead to feelings of restlessness, nervousness, and a sense of impending doom - hallmark symptoms of anxiety. High levels of stress hormones can make it difficult to relax and fall asleep, leading to insomnia. Lack of sleep can further exacerbate negative thinking, creating a vicious cycle. Long-term exposure to cortisol can decrease the production of serotonin, a neurotransmitter that contributes to feelings of well-being and happiness. This imbalance can lead to symptoms of depression. The deleter or the invasive thought modulator in our subconscious plays a crucial role in managing these negative thoughts and preventing the chronic activation of the stress response. By minimizing the impact of invasive thoughts, they help maintain mental harmony and contribute to overall well-being.

Attributing a physiology or a human cognitive process to a divine entity like God poses a substantial challenge. If God experiences a 'bad thought', it would likely disrupt the cosmic balance and harmony. Given that many belief systems attribute the creation and maintenance of the universe to God, any negative thought could potentially manifest as cosmic disturbances or alterations in the fundamental laws of nature. From a metaphorical perspective, perhaps this could translate to phenomena we can't currently explain, like anomalies in the cosmos, or drastic shifts in universal constants. But remember, this is a speculative interpretation and not based on any specific religious, philosophical, or scientific principles. In many belief systems, God is seen as a source of absolute goodness, incapable of 'bad thoughts' as understood in human terms. The very concept of a 'bad thought' is tied to our human limitations, imperfections, and subjective moral judgments.

As the narrative of the mind unfolds, we find ourselves once again contemplating the enigmatic figure of the deleter. This elusive guardian of mental realms, ever vigilant yet selectively passive, stands as a testament to the delicate dance between harmony and disruption within the subconscious. Yet, amid this intricate choreography of intervention, there emerges a paradox, the deleter's hesitance, a calculated step back from the foggy seas of a pandemic-stricken world. Why does the deleter, whose very existence is predicated on intercepting and transforming invasive thoughts, choose not to intervene in this spectral narrative?

The answer lies in the recognition of a profound truth: that not all thoughts born of chaos are adversaries to be expunged. Some embody narratives of resilience, adaptation, and shared human experience. They are fragments of a collective odyssey through uncharted waters. In allowing certain invasive thoughts passage, the deleter undertakes a calculated risk. A departure from conventional custodianship toward a nuanced role of discernment and facilitation. It acknowledges that growth often springs from discomfort, that adversity can sculpt narratives of strength and renewal. In this delicate dance of intervention and acquiescence, the deleter assumes the mantle not only of guardian but also of steward, nurturing thoughts that transcend mere intrusion to become conduits of profound insight.

As the ghost ship sails through the fog, the aurora borealis of everything palpably intangible, the deleter stands watch. A guardian of not only harmony but of the profound stories etched by the human spirit's enduring voyage through the enigmatic seas of existence and metamorphosis.