#withered po

[idkmanwtfishumanityanymore]

CAN WE ALL JUST TAKE A QUICK MOMENT, AND TALK ABOUT EARTH NOT ONLY TEASING LUNAR FOR LAUGHING, BUT ALSO COMPLIMENTING ECLIPSE’S LAUGH???

I AM GOING TO EXPLODE BRO WHAT.

I’M GOING TO SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUS-💥

[starheirxero]

I WATCHED THE NEW SAMS EPISODE-

FUCK, BLOODMOON IS GIVEN THE MERE ILLUSION OF A CHOICE- BUT THERE IS NONE, FOR THEY WERE PROGRAMMED TO ALWAYS FOLLOW ON A LEASH- AND IN THIS SITUATION, IT IS EITHER LISTENING OR DYING AND LOSING EACH OTHER ALL OVER AGAIN-

And then there's Eclipse- OH GOD, ECLIPSE- He is so confused! He keeps asking for Vegeta's purpose, and his feelings for being a mere blueprint, yet Vegeta doesn't care. He knows, but he won't let that defy him, and Eclipse can't understand- He himself is a mere copy of the original. "Eclipse" is dead, he was blown to smithereens. He is not Eclipse. He is a mere copy, and even then he's imperfect. And he cannot live with this, cannot accept reality. It's breaking my damn heart!

He is also softer though? Yes, he was trying to bring Vegeta down, but he felt a lot more…passive, I'd say. Hell, he even refused to harm him! Even after he was challenged!

-Stardust

RIGHTTTT!!!!!! YESYESYES WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH BLOODMOON AGAIN IS MESSING ME UP SO BAD LIKE AUGH. These poor boys do not get a BREAK. THEY STILL DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER AAAUAGGHHHH

AND ECLIPSE GHOD YEAH. Eclipse being baffled at Vageta's just total content with being What He Is just has me enraptured tbh. He is so in his head about his copied existence that the idea of someone being a walking test subject just,,, completely throws him off. WHICH IS HONESTLY MIGHT HAVE BEEN WHY HE TRIED TO UPSET LUNAR W/ SAYING THEY WERE A FAILED SCIENCE PROJECT, YK? Bc to Eclipse, that would be wildly upsetting, but no one else really cares that much. Yk??

AND HE DID SEEM A BIT MORE CHILL YEA. More tolerable? Not exactly patient but somewhere in that realm. There is things happening with this guy and I love him ^_^

[moonspiritleaf]

"My little dragon."

Here's a drawing I made of Solstice (Dark Sun) and his baby wither dragon. It's a little lazy.

[possuminnit]

OHH BABY MANS.,. CRIES AT YOU I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!

[comet--cove]

rambling and random facts about my mcsm au because I'm hyperfixated on it!

disclaimer: none of this is canon to the mcsm universe and is only my au. this is going to be long.. so if you get bored of reading easy, whoops!

the general premise of this au is that the command block was alive (in the same way that skulk is, in a way?), and the witherstorm was actually a giant parasite. yes, I can hear some of you going "oh, man, here we go towards some generic zombie apocalypse au".. but I promise you this is different. I won't bore you with cliche love stories or that ONE character being like "omigosh, I'm immune!" and you knew it would happen because they're the main protagonist. I also won't explain too much of the actual au details because it's complicated and long (unless some of you want to hear about it.. wink wink).. so I'll simply tell you this: some of the cast-- including our beloved main character-- is mutated. think about hybrid creatures, or perhaps what the warden (deep dark warden, not the sunshine institute warden) would look like if it was more humanoid. yeah, that's them. with that out of the way, however.. here are some of my rambles and facts.

my favorite jesse skin is gsj (green suspender jesse), so my entire jesse design was initially meant to be paired with that skin. this also means that the canon jesse of this au is technically male (gsj). (I like to use they/them pronouns for canon jess-- yes, my nickname for them is 'jess'-- because the player can go male or female, but when I speak of this au I'll use he/they because I'm referring mostly to this canonically (in terms of this au at least) male-presenting character.) however, due to the changes I've made to the actual character.. he kind of stands along as his own skin now.

I've seen a lot of fanart of enderbeings and witherbeings in the minecraft community, so I made his design to kind of fit in with those-- not in the sense that i lacked ideas, but rather to have him fit into the fanon and have people at least somewhat recognize what he is. however, I have many unique designs elements that I saw from the actual game.

I make it sound like our protagonist has an official design... but in reality, I'm only in my first stage of designing him! he only has one concept design as of right now.. despite me having many ideas of how exactly he looks. that's just on the part of my art skills and me not exactly being good at drawing mcsm characters yet... my skill is pretty limited.

most of the armor choices in the au (for jesse, at least) are still the same! however, when we are speaking of jesse as a character, his favorite armors are slightly modified versions of 'ender defender' and 'dragonsbane'. he-- along with most of the cast-- agreed that these two armors fit with his color palette the best, due to his new color palette having a lot of blue and pink. YES, this jesse is very aware of fashion and what looks good on him.

in this universe, wither-sickness is called wither-infection.. since, y'know.. it's basically a wither-zombie apocalypse.

lukas and ivor co-wrote a journal! using ivor's studies of the wither-infection and lukas' journaling skills (along with his art skills, because he's somewhat of an artist in this au), they made a complete study of the stages and types of infection. they also have a part in the journal where they have brewing recipes for what specific potions help to slow the effects of wither-infection or at least make a person more comfortable if they're too far gone.

like canon mcsm, when the storm was vanquished, the people who were sick got better. however, in this au, the process was gradual (as the infection lost connection to what really kept it alive, and therefore slowly died). the mutants stayed as they were, since the infection caused physical changes to their bodies that couldn't be undone by natural means.

yes, ivor was the creator of the storm.. and yes, in a twist of fate and cruel irony.. he was, in fact, mutated. however, he had no idea that the command block was alive and would create an infection instead of simply a wither that he could control. due to this, when he saw both jesse and petra get mutated as well, he felt immense guilt and often has sleepless nights where he works tirelessly in his lab in an attempt to have some sort of cure for the mutation. these attempts have all been futile, and no cure has been made. all he can do is keep the others comfortable until their bodies get used to the additional changes that the storm brought upon them.

jesse was the last person to ever be infected.. and his actually came from when he was inside of the storm. instead of destroying the command block as what happened in canon.. the block actually fused with him in a last-ditch effort to save itself. so, naturally, he got very sick. wither-sick. this worried the absolute hell out of his friends, since "the storm is gone, he should be getting better and not worse!" I'll keep the story of his sickness short (unless someone wants to hear about it... wink wink v2), but the basic jist of it is that everyone thought he was gonna die, he got so sick he went into a coma for a few days.. and then he disappeared from the makeshift infirmary that they kept him in. when they found him again, he went from being a very, very sick human to not being as sick, but having undergone the mutation and looking completely different. that scared the everloving fuck out of everyone.. but then two days later, he woke up with no sickness whatsoever as if nothing happened. THAT part is still a mystery to ivor.

everyone who has been mutated experiences some pain for a while, since their bodies need to get used to the changes (as previously stated). a lot of the time, they also need to relearn some things-- walking, talking, coordination, etc.-- depending on what the mutation did to them.

aaaagh anyway.. I feel like I've made this just a bit too long, so if you want to hear more about this au, just put it in my asks and shoot out whatever questions you have. if you do so, please make sure to specify that you're asking me about this specifically by either blatantly stating it or saying something like "(wau) question", etc.

("wau" is short for wither au.. that's my very unoriginal placeholder name until I get a better one.)

anyway, sayonara for now! hope that those of you who decided to read all of this-- or even just some of this-- enjoyed the silly rambling from me.

[tev-the-random]

It's not often that I watch Doc's videos

But when I do, I cannot help but exclaim "what the fuck" at least a couple of times

[red-winter-is-coming]

Don’t Remember It, Don’t Return To It

At last “Honey, I’m home!”, three voices come from the gramophone

——-

When I said that Honey I’m Home is Withereflame coded, I meant it lol

@residences-of-the-darkforest take my sillies :3

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Seven

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, beron being a pos, deep self-reflection for both az & reader, a conversation, a confession, and a turning point

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: this is not properly proofread yet, i couldnt bring myself to read it fully since i was getting self-critical and wouldve never posted

Part Six | Series Masterlist

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The early morning mist still clung to the open fields as you crossed them. Eris stood alone in the expanse, throwing a ball for his hounds. The movement was fluid and practiced, and you found your mind wandering to memories of decades prior —- memories where Eris stood in the same spot, throwing the same ball at younger pup versions of the dogs. Laney trotted beside you as you approached, her pace quickening as she saw the others.

A brisk chill made you pull your coat tighter, but the fabric did little to ward off the cold. It was always peaceful out here, away from the burdens and bustle of the court itself, and Autumn mornings had a cool air that made you feel real, made your skin feel alive.

Eris’s eyes were already on you as you approached him, eyebrows raising momentarily as you took a stand next to him. You mirrored the action back to him, crossing your arms and pulling them tight against your body. 

“What’s that look for?”

He gave a casual shrug. "Surprised you've spared some time for me in your incredibly busy schedule.”

You scowled. “You’re so dramatic.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the crisp air, and his lips twitched upwards in amusement at your annoyance.  “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Your gaze bounced around his face. He seemed tired— more so than usual, and the freckles on his nose seemed to be less prominent with the lack of color in his skin. You casted an absentminded glance towards the overcast sky before meeting your brother's eyes again. 

“Have I?”

Eris hummed. “You have.”

He pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” you said, “You’ve been really busy too.”

Your answer pulled another raise of his brows. 

“Of course I noticed,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes that matched the amusement in his tone. “It was so quiet here without you terrorizing everyone.”

You rolled your eyes and Eris grinned at his own words, a look of satisfaction rolling through his features as you scowled deeper. 

“You’re not funny,” you said. 

He let out a wistful sigh. “On the contrary, little sister,” he mused, “I’m hilarious.”

You threw him a withering glare and his grin widened. He nudged his shoulder against yours. A few hounds scampered back to him, Flint proudly carrying a small red ball in his slobbering jaws. Laney bounded alongside, followed closely by four hounds.

Eris moved gracefully, bringing his body down into a squat to offer a flat palm to Flint. The ball landed in his hand with a small thud.

"The male you’re sleeping with, do you care for him?"

Eris’s voice was so calm, so casual, that you almost didn’t catch what he’d asked you. He didn’t bother to look at you. 

You took a sharp intake of breath, looking down at him with widened eyes. “What?”

Eris stood up straight as he tossed the ball back into the distance effortlessly. You watched the hounds race after it, Laney's determined strides putting her ahead of the pack as they joined the others in the field. When you looked back at Eris, he was studying you— waiting for your response.

“Well?”

Your heartbeat quickened and you frowned, pulling your arms tighter against your chest. "What are you talking about?"

He raised an eyebrow, casually pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

You stared at him, feeling a knot of tension tighten in your chest. Your nails dug into your skin through the fabric of your coat. Eris continued, his voice steady. "You've done a great job at covering the scent. But you can't fool me. Don't forget who taught you those tricks."

His eyes were simmering as they met yours again, the amber in them flickering with something guarded— something concerned. You took a steadying breath as you weighed your options. The easiest one was to deny that there was any male at all, to attempt to outplay your brother at the one game he knew best. But it would be foolish to believe that could truly work. Your mind raced again.

The best lies are the ones with truth, Eris always said, you can get away with anything if you approach it right, if you take control of the conversation. 

You let out a breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

Truth.

He maintained his heavy gaze. "Is it one of my soldiers?"

You grimaced at his words, letting your face fall into one of slight disgust. "You'd really want to know if I was sleeping with one of your men?"

Take control of the conversation.

The words seem to hit their target as Eris’s lips formed a deep frown. His nose scrunched as he processed the words. He gave you a dismissive hand wave. “Nevermind.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “That’s what I thought.”

A moment of silence passed but Eris’s gaze didn’t leave your face. You forced yourself to look into the distance, to watch the hounds as they chased each other in the grass. 

"You didn't answer me.”

You took a breath. "About what?" 

"Do you care for him?"

The words ran through you in a wave, one entirely too heavy for your liking. 

Months ago, the answer would have been obvious— so obvious that the question itself would’ve seemed like a sick joke. Months ago, it would've been instant. No. You did not care for Azriel. He could've died and you would've celebrated; would’ve laughed at the idea of karma finally finding its way to the family you disliked so heavily. 

But something in you had changed recently, changed in a way that made you hesitate at your answer. 

You and Azriel hadn't slept together in weeks. And even those times had been a physical release, something meaningless yet sickly sweet. Yet, the moments since had become even more intimate—the times you caught yourself joking with him, caught your own lingering gaze on his form. 

You’d gone back for him— and you’d repeated that moment in your head multiple times since, thinking back to that tug you felt in your chest, the strange guilt you felt the minute you’d winnowed away. You’d gone back and fought alongside him, had managed to heal him in a way you'd never been able to do for Eris,  never been able to do even for yourself.

You looked at your brother and let out a sharp breath of air. 

"No. I don’t." 

The words felt forced, strained, and you worried that Eris would see through it entirely— would force you to admit a truth you weren’t sure existed. But he only narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and then nodded. 

“Good,” he said, “That would only make matters worse.”

There was something in his tone that made you run cold and you turned your body to face him, watching as his eyes shifted impatiently, the action almost nervous. 

“Eris,” you said cautiously, “What is it?”

A flicker of something ran through his face, something that looked awfully like guilt, like sadness. 

“Y/n” he began, but you lifted a hand up, shaking your head at his attempts to soften the conversation, to gently lead into whatever topic had him so bothered.

”Don’t,” you said firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t use that voice. I’m not a child to be soothed. Tell me.”

Eris sighed. “He’s entertaining the idea of marrying you off to garner more support.” 

A name wasn’t needed as your stomach dropped and your hands fell slack at your sides. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s not true.”

Eris’s shoulders slumped. “It’s why I’ve been so busy. I looked into it. It’s true.”

A strange buzzing sensation began to fill your ears. You shook your head as if to clear it, as if the words Eris would say next could change the ones he had already said.

“No,” you repeated firmer. “Brides are taken at their prime, when they become of age. I’ve been of age for centuries. I- No.”

Eris stepped closer. “He’s seeing it as a way to strengthen inner-court allies, to consolidate power in a more immediate way. Access to our bloodline is an incredible link to influence, any of his men will take the chance.”

Your chest constricted as the words sank in and you felt your hands begin to tremble, felt an unsteady flicker at your fingertips. You met Eris’s gaze, eyes wide, breathing heavy. 

“He’s punishing me.”

Eris swallowed hard and his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He nodded, unable to find the right words. 

”Just give me some time,” Eris finally said, pulling you in by your shoulder. He lowered his head to meet your gaze, his voice falling to a softer, lower tone. “I’ll figure something out, okay? I-I just need some time.”

It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words too. So you only nodded, looking into the distance once more, eyes tracing the circles the hounds ran around each other.

Even in the open air, in this freedom, they were still pets— still animals that were owned, bred throughout history for a singular purpose. 

You’d never realized how much you had in common until now. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

He stepped out of the bath, feeling as the water trailed down his form and the tension in his muscles eased. The steam swirled around him, briefly shrouding him in a comforting fog, and his shadows followed his movements slowly— leisurely. 

Azriel’s wing was healed now and he thought of you whenever he moved it. He remembered how he had slipped into unconsciousness at your touch, how your focused, almost tender face was the last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness. He thought of you in the moonlight, thought of how your voice softened as you talked about Lucien. Most of all, he thought about the words he’s said himself, words intended to be an apology—- a compliment, even. And how you’d recoiled at them as if he had injured you gravely.

He dressed slowly, his mind being lured in every direction but ultimately falling back to you. Azriel glanced down at his hands, at the scars that marred his skin. Amongst his burns were scars from battles, from missions, and if he squinted hard enough, he could envision the blood that stained them still, even after the liquid had been washed off. 

Every act he committed was etched into his skin, acts done out of loyalty, out of a need to protect those he loved; a need to be important, to be anything but weak. 

Azriel had felt at sea recently, lost even in his own court. He felt like a failure as he watched Rhysand’s worry about Koschei grow throughout the days. He was a spymaster— a warrior. Yet nothing he did seemed to help. His family was restless, on edge, and he felt a bitter pang as his shadows updated him on their every move. Feyre and Rhys had learned to soothe Nyx at night and Cassian and Nesta had begun planning their mating ceremony—something large, grand, and worth her time. He didn’t even want to think of Elain, to think of her alongside the brother that even Azriel’s shadows had grown to like. 

He was happy for them. At least, he told himself so. But he couldn’t shake his feeling of unease, as if he was on unsettled ground. Beneath it all was a sickening sense of jealousy. Everyone— even Amren— had found a purpose, had even found a love that softened them. Azriel hadn’t. 

Maybe that was why he liked the way he felt when he met with you, liked how it had given him a sense of purpose— even if he disliked what that purpose was for. He felt a clarity now, a focus he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

It seemed like a sick joke from the Mother, to give him a sense of purpose when he was alongside you, to find satisfaction in helping you support Eris, the very male Azriel despised with every fiber of his being. If he had grown to respect you in some form, did that mean he respected Eris, too? 

The thought made him want to vomit. 

It was becoming far too easy for you to cloud his thoughts, to overshadow any duties or obligations he had. Normally he would fight against it, burying himself in work, training, anything to keep his mind occupied. But today, he welcomed it, indulged in the sweet sin of your face in his mind. His shadows drifted around him, whispering in his ears the very things he knew himself. He was beginning to feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before, by eyes that had seen the same life as him. 

And it terrified him as much as it comforted him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You didn’t have time, as it turned out.

Beron had moved into preparations swiftly—faster than you or Eris anticipated. One night he found you, his eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction that had Laney preparing to bear her teeth at him in a snarl— you were grateful he didn’t notice, grateful that she listened to your commands.

”You finally have a purpose to fulfill,” he declared. “I never understood why the Mother cursed me with a daughter as my final kin, but now I understand.”

You’d felt your identity slipping away as soon as he growled those words. In the days since, he forced your mother to tightly pull back your hair each night, to help dress you as a prized calf and parade you at his events for Autumn’s most influential— most cunning—figures. They eyed you with calculating, hungry interest, deciding whether you were suitable for themselves or their sons. 

You sat at a table now, the only female among a sea of men. Your mother was never allowed at events like this, never really seen unless she was forced to cling to your fathers arm like a piece of fine jewelry. The plate of food in front of you was half the size of the portions heaped on the plates of the males surrounding you. If you had the energy, you would’ve found it funny. But you didn’t. 

You felt like a prey in a pack of savage beasts, their eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you feel sick; made you feel dirty, as if you were covered in a grime you could never fully wash off.

Beron leaned over and placed his hand over yours. Instantly, you clenched and straightened, a wave of revulsion washing over you in a tide. His grip tightened and he leaned in further, lips curling into a sickening, warning smile.

”Smile,” he commanded tightly. “No one wants a scowling bride.”

As a warning, a flame flickered on his palm and a searing pain spread across your exposed skin. You felt the burn, sharp and cruel, but you didn’t dare flinch. You met his eyes and held them— held that cold, hardened gaze, the same one you saw when you’d look in the mirror, in your eyes that looked exactly like his. 

This was your defiance of tonight. If anything, you could do this. You could match him.

But your father’s smile widened, seemingly satisfied enough with your compliance, and he leaned back, releasing your hand. The burn throbbed on your skin but you remained still. 

You could feel another gaze on you, distinct from the predatory stares of the other males. This gaze was warm, comforting, like the gentle heat of a fire on a cold night or the familiar embrace of a childhood blanket. 

You didn’t dare look over. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the concern in Eris’s eyes from across the table. It would break you in some way you couldn’t control. With the familiar sense of heat underneath your skin, you sat up straighter, tightened your strained grip around the fork you held, and imagined how it would look in the eyes of every male around you— all but your brother.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel wasn’t sure why he hurried as much as he did— why his wings seemed to go faster, why his winnowing was almost instant. But here he was, standing in front of the cabin he’d become so familiar with, listening as his shadows told him that you seemed troubled.

It was the job of a lone shadow of his to trail you, to keep an eye on this cabin— on this place, and to alert Azriel if anything was of importance. It was a precautionary measure at the beginning of your little arrangement, a way to keep track of everything going on, to always have something watching you— the most unpredictable factor in his life, the thing he never saw coming. But he wasn’t sure why he’d continued to send that shadow out even after you both had come to a sort of agreement, a sort of truce born of a miniscule understanding. 

Perhaps it was for reasons like this, for your strange appearances in the Spring Court at nearly four in the morning. 

He knew in his gut that something was wrong even before his shadows told him. 

You looked so put together— that was the first thing Azriel noticed.  The dress you wore was entirely too formal, lacking in the usual flare that accompanied your presence; and your hair was tied back tightly, so neatly and simple it seemed constraining. The way you sat on the grass now, before him, almost resembled the stance of a small child looking at the sky in a sorrowful form of prayer, waiting for a star to shoot by for a wish of yours to be placed upon it.

“Why do you always do that?” 

Your voice rang out clear and goosebumps crawled on Azriel’s skin at the sound, a chill making its way through his body. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t bothered looking away from your stare at the sky. Part of him was tempted to remain still, to back further into the darkness that surrounded him. 

���Stare at me afar like a creep?” You added.

Finally, you turned to look at where he stood and Azriel found himself stepping forward, allowing his shadows to disappear around his body. He didn’t offer you an answer, opting to flex his hands— his clammy, tense hands— as he continued to walk forward. You followed his every movement.

“What are you doing here?” 

Azriel’s voice was neutral, monotone. 

You raised your eyebrows. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He frowned at the response. He’d expected something snippier, something more you— he’d grown accustomed to it, to the snark that he’d return easily. He took a moment to think, to rummage through his thoughts like an overly-cluttered junk drawer. 

“Don’t you think this is a bit pathetic,” Azriel said, “Sulking on the dirty grass in the middle of the night?”

His voice was stern. But as much as he’d attempted to ensure it was devoid of emotion, there was a trace of something in his words, a hint of concern. A part of him, one larger than he’d care to admit, was pushing him to be softer, to tell you he was worried, to offer help pick you up. But he refrained. You would push him away the minute you sensed a semblance of pity. This he already knew.

You gave a humorless laugh and there was a strained sense of sorrow that Azriel recognized instantly.  You stood up. “I guess so. You’d know a thing or two about what being pathetic looks like.”

He gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath. His shadows curled around his wrists and he fought with them as they strained to extend further, to slither down his body and towards you. 

There was a tense silence before he spoke again. "I heard Beron is arranging your marriage."

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes met his— the fire in them still visible in the moonlight, but entirely too dull compared to what they’d looked like weeks ago. You took in his form, the straightness of his posture and the tuck of his wings. Even at this hour he was clad in his fighting leathers, poised and deadly like the image of ruin. 

“How do you know that?”

Azriel gave a small, almost nonchalant shrug. “I have spies in every court.”

“Doesn't it defeat the purpose if you tell me?”

“Wouldn't you find them, anyways?

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You stared at each other for a moment and Azriel’s eyes seemed to soften with an internal conflict. He cocked his head at you and you forced yourself to look away, finding new interest on the ground below you.

“Is that why you’re here?”

When you met his eyes once more, he took a sharp intake of breath. 

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Azriel’s mind reeled again. While he felt stuck in place, forged to the very ground he stood on, his brain threw him into every memory he held of you— back to the first times he’d seen you standing alongside Eris. 

He saw the memories in an entirely different light. Before, Eris had domineered over you, had poised his body in front of you and your mother in a way to assert his dominance as the heir to the throne, to remind those around him that you were both females at the end of the day. But now, Az saw it as what it truly was: protection. A bodily shield similar to that he’d done himself to Morrigan, to Amren, to his High Lady. 

You never came to official meetings, were never seen at political gatherings. There were multiple reasons for this, Azriel had gathered. First and foremost, you were a female. And to Beron, females had no place in politics—- no place in his court beyond eye candy and child bearing. His wife was always there, yes, but she never spoke. Never did so much as lift her hand. Azriel could’ve believed that she was nothing more than a doll, not truly living; not truly alive. He didn’t even know her name beyond her title, Lady of Autumn, a female that belonged to her court; nameless beyond the one thing that established her— her husband. 

And beyond being a female, you were their youngest, their only daughter. You were to be protected, to be molded into the perfect wife, ready to be sold off to the highest— and most powerful— male. He’d never bothered to think about that last fact. He never cared. But as you stood in front of him, he indeed felt bothered, felt unsettled at the idea. 

“I feel bad for the male who will be tied to you for the rest of his life.”

“Because I’m that awful?” You scanned his face, your voice veering between wounded and sardonic. “Here I thought you’d be jealous because he’d get to fuck me for the rest of mine.”

Something flashed in Azriel’s eyes and the shadows on his face grew harsher as he clenched his jaw. But then, for a moment, his eyes seemed to soften, turning from a molten brown to a soft honey. “That’s not what I meant.”

"Then what did you mean?"

He took a deep breath and you could’ve sworn you saw a twitch in his hand, saw it move out slightly before he pulled it back in, as if he wanted to reach out, to place a hand on yours. 

"Ownership doesn't suit you. Any male who thinks he has a claim on you is in for a rude awakening.”

 You looked away. "It's not like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice.”

You met his gaze again, a dry laugh bubbling up. Azriel’s face was serious, sincere, and it made your blood boil with a sense of resentment that felt comical. You could taste it: the bitter feeling in your throat and the burning in your stomach, like something making its way from your esophagus to your mouth.

"Of course you would say that."

Azriel's brow furrowed slightly and his body tensed in response. "What does that mean?”

You shook your head, running your tongue along your teeth before you turned to face him fully, jaw tight, teeth clenched. Azriel wore a sense of self-loathing like second skin. You could smell it on him, could see it in the way he walked, in the way he interacted with those around him. You noticed it from the first time you’d met, watched as he longingly looked at Morrigan, as that self-loathing filled his eyes and dripped into his features. You knew the feeling well, knew how to recognize it. 

And you wanted to laugh at the fact. The male before you hated himself so much because he had room to do so. He was powerful enough to let it fester, was comfortable enough to set aside time for his self-pity. The Night Court, despite how much you hated it, had freedoms that yours would never give you. Rhysand granted his family privileges that they never acknowledged.  You felt the urge to tell Azriel exactly that, to shove a finger into his chest and chastise him for such foolish, childish sentiments.  

But instead, you found yourself asking him a question that took both of you by surprise. 

“Why do you despise me?”

Azriel blinked and his shadows stilled, their movements halting around his body. “What?”

“Tell me,” you said, “Tell me why you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened. “Eris–”

You cut him off. “I asked why you hated me. Not my brother.”

His mouth tightened and he remained silent, his wings twitching  slightly as if they bore the weight of his thoughts. The shadows that usually danced around him like a protective barrier were now motionless, and you felt a twisting sensation in your gut, a cold, coiling dread.

"You know,” you said, your voice low, a hint of anger lacing your words. "It's not only hate that I have felt for you."

He stiffened. "Then what else?"

"Jealousy," you admitted, the word leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Bitter, suffocating jealousy. I'm envious of you, Shadowsinger. You have this court that you love, this family that can get away with anything and you don't even acknowledge it.”

You’d always been a jealous person. By the gods, you’d tried your best to get over it. But it was rooted in something deeper than superficial envy— especially when it came to Azriel. 

There was something about the moonlight, about these darkened skies, that made it easier to be honest, something that almost compelled a sense of vulnerability. And as you stared at him, felt his gaze burn into yours, you felt a cold shiver of realization roll throughout your skin. 

“I’ve come to realize that you and I are entirely too similar for my liking. And I am so unbelievably envious that I’m punished for everything you are praised for.”

Azriel stilled, his movements slowing as though your words had struck him with the force of a physical blow. His chest tightened and an urgency wrapped itself around his ribs like a vise, constricting with each breath.

Azriel had always hated you. It was a visceral, almost instinctive reaction that he never fully understood until now. You were a mirror of him—a reflection of the darkness he harbored within himself, the parts of him that he loathed. Your cunning, your ruthlessness, this sense of loyalty that left you desperate, that led you to tearing apart pieces of yourself. All qualities he recognized, all qualities he despised in himself. 

It was easier to hate you than to face the self-loathing that gnawed at him. To acknowledge that you were a product of your environment, just as he was. But as much as he tried to detest you, as much as he tried to push you away, his hatred for you had spilled into desire, something sickly sweet and thick. It ran down his body and even after he’d scrubbed himself clean, even after he’d rid himself of his urges as he took you from behind—- it was still there, coating his skin. He was unable to rid himself of the burning that had settled in his chest, the longing he refused to admit; because that hatred, that desire, had grown into something else, something just as hot, just as all consuming. 

It had turned into admiration. 

His expression softened, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. "You’re right."

A silence settled between you, thick and heavy. Azriel's gaze wavered, his eyes searching yours as if he were sifting through the layers you held. You felt a flutter in your chest, a vulnerable ache that made you want to recoil and step closer all at once.

You stared at him, at the way his wings perched over him like a dark, protective shroud, at how his shadows seemed to radiate off him in waves. The heat beneath your skin intensified, a simmering fire that burned hotter the longer you looked at him. Your eyes drifted to his wing, to the area that had been torn open the last time you saw him. The scar had healed, but the memory of it was still fresh in your mind. You looked back at his face, at the way he hadn’t dared to look away. 

Azriel's face was hauntingly and devastatingly beautiful, a creature of the night, perfectly in his element under the moonlit sky. Your chest felt tight, as if your ribs were being pulled apart, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t save Eris. You couldn’t outrun the fate your father had set for you. 

You wanted it all to go away, to forget who you were, where you were.

Without another thought, you threw yourself at Azriel, your lips crashing against his in an angry, heady kiss. The intensity of it was almost violent, something born out of desperation, out of a need to feel something other than the suffocating anger that had taken residence in your heart.

He pulled away for a moment, his brows furrowing as he took in your face. His eyes fell to your lips. You waited for it— for the abandonment of reluctance that had become a routine, for him to stare at you, for that stare to turn hungry, predatory, and for him to surge forward and claim your lips with his. But Azriel didn’t move towards you. He shook his head and took a step back. 

“What is it?” you breathed, your voice trembling, edged with frustration. “Have you suddenly gained morals? Do you not want this?”

He hesitated. “No. Not like this,” Azriel said and you bristled at the words. They weren’t entirely dismissive, but they felt charged with something that left your mouth dry, left it difficult for you to breathe. “I don’t want your anger.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes flickered, as if trying to blink away the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I don’t know.”

The uncertainty in his voice made your chest feel tighter. An almost embarrassing sensation of exposure washed over you, as if your entire life had led to being denied the one sick pleasure you’d found. 

“Why did you come here?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, this time firmer, more desperate. His shadows churned around him, dark tendrils of darkness twisting and writhing like a storm gathering strength, charged with an unsettling energy.

It set you on edge. Your fingers twitched, and you clenched your hands into fists to stop their trembling. 

“Well, what do you know?”

Azriel looked at you, a crease in his brows, his expression a mix of pain and relief as he finally responded, his eyes burning. “That you have plagued my mind for weeks.”

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice teetering between curiosity and a simmering anger. It was a blend of emotions you couldn't quite unravel—whether you sought answers or were simply lashing out. “What do you want?”

He shook his head, attempting to take another step back, growing more furious with himself at the motion. You moved closer, bringing your hand to his arm and he felt the burn of your touch through his leathers. You were a nightmare and he felt desperate to keep you as you pleaded with him, voice rising, fiery in spirit and heart. 

“Tell me what you want, Shadowsinger.”

You weren't sure what came over you, why you suddenly felt desperate for him to tell you what you felt was true, for him to admit it. It felt like you were on the edge of a great precipice, your heart tugging and tightening in your chest all at once, needing him to look at you, growing anxious, angry, even. You wanted his truth, wanted his confession and his sin all in one.

And then you continued, voice suddenly tender, seeking. “Tell me what you want and I can give it to you.”

He willed himself to look at you and his chest rose with his uneven breaths. 

“You,” he managed to breathe, shivering with craving.

Once the admission fell from his mouth, Azriel was done for. “I want you.” 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

As an extra treat, the wonderfully talented @micahssketchbook gifted us with an illustrated version of this confession 🥹

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note:

yknow.... if theres one thing ill give these angst fuckers credit for is that they are so honest with each other, like tell me why reader is more honest with az than rhys was with his own wife 😭

anyways everyone thank @writingcroissant as usual for inspiring me (forcing me) to finish this part when i was tempted to delete everything

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii

[vifilms]

i think some skin to skin with cowgirl abby could and would fix me :P

❝ IM IN LOVE WITH YOU ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON!

an. nonnie, thank you for the request. it's more angst than i planned so i hope that's okay! i also wanna credit the cuntress queen @astralnymphh for this concept. so, so good. y'all need to check it out asap.

Since she could feel it, from very early on, she’s liked women and never enjoyed the company of men other than to have an occasional beer with. Most of the girls around her worried about settling down, finding a perfect man, one who is respectable, stable, loving. Pleasing the wishes of their parents who are ever so demanding with a downpour of insured judgements. 

It’s all left to be found here, the bellows from a man and a woman living unhappily together, telling others how to live their life. Yet, Abby from a young age yearns for someone else, the piece she believes is missin’. 

The sought after, happily ever after. 

Not a soul she had met for her bill so she keeps her head down. Late night escapades are tight lipped, hidden from spectator’s eyes, ones they would throw slurs her way without a second thought if they knew. Just like they had when she hadn’t kept it a secret.

 Sometimes, it burns. Other times when she was buried in between a woman’s thighs as they cried for mercy in her ear, it didn’t. 

Underneath the midnight sky, her fingertips dance on the white wood — the one she shouldn’t be stepping her boots back on. 

Despite how she tells herself, this will be the last time, it never really is. It’s a quiet night in the small town tucked away in a small town in South Texas, the stars shine bright in the countryside, moonlight shining brighter than it has all month long. 

Abby steps up to your front porch, the pearly white picket fence, the home your dad built with his two bare hands and a dream. When she’s met with your shining smile, the doubt is evident, barely visible but it’s there. 

Is this what you want? Or were you just too kind of a woman to say no? 

Nothing is said between the two of you as you pull her into your home, a senseless wonder swirls in your eyes, getting lost in impenetrable blues. Maybe, it’s what pulls you in and keeps you there like the failed dreams in a dying town. Perhaps it’s when you dream of the sound of her voice at night when she decides not to come, leaving you alone to think of not a single thing but her. 

Once the door closes, it’s just the two of you. Abby’s musk is overwhelming, she tends to be, but you seem to welcome it with open arms. There's a pot roast you made for her, devouring it silently at the round dining room table, her muscular thigh touching yours, reminding you of the feelings which never seem to wither. 

Her brown, weathered stetson hat sits on the empty chair, her fingertips picking at the frayed edge, the nagging thought in her brain shouts at her to say something, anything, but you beat her to it. 

“You don’t have to stay, Abby. You’ve got an early morning, so do I.” You pick up the emptied plates, washing them at the sink when you feel strong, protective, arms wrap around your waist, her chin resting against your shoulder. 

“Why are you putting words in my mouth, darling?” Pink lips decorate deliberate kisses along the side of your neck, “I’m right where I wanna be. M’here with you, not going anywhere.” 

With her pointer finger, she tilts your head to her, dominant lips catching hers, Abby’s hold keeping you in place as she reminds you of what it feels like to be held by the person you call home. The quivering feeling shoots a shiver up your spine, her hands don’t stop moving as they caress your body. 

“C’mon now, you need some sleep.” Her southern drawl is strong as ever as she leads you up the stairs into your bedroom. “S’late, can’t have you not gettin’ sleep because of little ‘ole me.” 

You know what she wants and you know you’ll do it too. 

Anything for her. Right? 

A freshly showered Abby emerges as naked as the day she was born. Porcelain skin tanned by the radiance of the sun from a hard day’s work, a constellation of freckles cover her body. There’s an abundance collecting at her shoulders, across her collarbones as they dust her strong nose and spread across perfectly sculpted cheeks. 

The time you have with each other is few and far in between, occupied by the responsibilities of managing a ranch with her father commands most of the hours of the day, keeping her effectively away from you.

Plus, the feeling swarming in her heart she refuses to see yet she’s here a few times a week, wanting this. If Abby wants more, she’s good at hiding it, but the thought alone is dangerous. You can allow yourself to want more, not when she gives you nothing in return. 

“Are you gonna come over here, gorgeous?” She slides in between your legs, some of her weight soothingly collapses onto you. “Patience darling, m’right here, not going anywhere.” 

With a sigh of content, she grabs you by the waist as she pulls you on top of her with ease. Abby’s golden waves kiss your face as she hides her face in the crook of her neck. Meticulously, the blunt of her fingertips draw patterns on your skin, playing with the hem on your lace undergarment, the only piece of clothing left in your body. 

“You will go somewhere. In the morning, you’ll leave without saying goodbye. Jus’ like you do after every night.” Abby tightens her hold, thinking if she keeps you close you won't slip through but truth be told? She’d be the first to drop you, even if it wasn't her intention. 

“Sorry, m’not strong like you.” 

“I think you’re a lot stronger than you think, y’know?” Her lips find yours as her skin smothers you in the body wash she keeps in the cabinet. Soft breasts melt against her own, calming her in a way Abby can’t quite comprehend. 

This was more than just sex. If that’s all this was, she would be the nearest bar picking up the closeted women who fawn over her before she even steps her foot in the front door. The most sought after woman in town, yet it’s her tongue in your mouth, claiming in a way words fail her. 

“Abby—” The moan vibrates through her, she falls into the sensation of your heavenly skin, smooth against her calloused hands. Every inch of your body feels golden to her. It’s what she craves, the intimacy without having to be, so good, a delicate sigh leaves her puffy lips. “I—” 

With a loving look in her wondrous pools of deep sea blues, with a hint of gray stowed away beneath the light, she inquires for you to continue as she looks up at you. 

Your hands gently touch her face, thumb lovingly soothing over the apples of her cheeks and the scar decorating one of them. There’s nothing she despises more than it, makes her look far too damaged, but you’ve always thought it makes her the person she is. 

Strong, loving, imperfectly perfect. 

The first time you did it, she flinched as she gripped your wrist, pulling your fingers away from marking. Now, she closes her eyes and lets you. 

“When can I tell you without you running? When are you gonna stay?” Abby wants to tell you, say it. I won’t leave. I’ll always be here, right with you, forever. 

She doesn’t. She can’t. 

The words die on her tongue, the three little ones she feels but can’t let through. The past hurts haunt her as it disgusts itself as a never ending hangover which she holds it against you. It’s not meant to be cruel, it certainly isn’t fair, but it’s all she can do until time heals the festering wound. 

“I don’t have an answer for you—” Her blue eyes open, her lips ghosting over your again. “But, this, you? It’s just you and me. No one else, darling.” 

For now, it’s enough, but Abby stresses over the day where you’ve had enough cursing at the wind and whatever god sits above. 

One day, somewhere in the near future, she won’t be.

taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @tlouloser

wanna be tagged?

[l3monlem0n]

Some Murder Drones Episode 7 screenshots I thought were interesting and my thoughts on them :>

SPOILER WARNING!!!! is spoilering

Nori, despite being a middle aged woman with a child, appears to be an Otaku or otherwise likes "edgy" and "scene" stuff, as well as listening to nightcore, very much like her daughter. Good for her tbh you're never too old to have fun

She also has a photo of Khan and what I can only assume is baby Uzi, though it appears to have blue eyes, but maybe it's just the lighting. Still very cute she has a pic of her husband

As well as all the previously mentioned Otaku stuff, she also drew herself as an anime character. She has a skinsona. Phenomenal (pos)

Nothing much here, just Uzi coughing up blood. Girl got the goop (gore) inside of her already

Lab Space. Apparently the Church was just down there and not even the humans know why. The canonicity of this is questionable; it could just be a joke

OT, as per google, stands for "Occupational Therapy". Makes sense for the context, and makes the bottom text funnier

"Fun Time To Universe Big Crunch: 87". The Big Crunch is a hypothetical way the Universe could end, where the universe folds on itself and shrinks into a single point. 87 "what" I don't know. If it's months, that 7 years and 3 months

Honestly the Murder Drones lore is super confusing. I think what this is trying to say is that every other Zombie Drone is doing poorly, (Except for Yeva), they are trying to reactivate 002 (Nori) via the USB. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe they only got the results they wanted from the two of them, and are trying again with Nori since she was the only other one that worked (also why they got Yeva when she failed; this may all be referring to how the episode opened up) Also, the date says SER. As revealed in the episode Cabin Fever, Copper-9 has months that Earth does not. SER most likely stands for Seramorris, the month revealed in that episode

Looks like the "bad event" wasn't the first one. Certainly was the last one though lol

Just a good pic of ghost/hologram V with the scary stuff. Might use this as a wallpaper

You can literally see the hole in his neck where N bit him in...

...And it's to the point his HEAD FALLS OFF. (including because I didn't notice the first time around)

Yup, the idea that Uzi became the Admin for N and V is completely true. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't, since Cyn didn't react whatsoever

friggin bug (very pos)

You would not believe how difficult it was to get a good pic of this (I'm using snipping tool lmao). Always a pleasure to see Uzi's doodles. Things her gun can do (upper right):

NOT judge her

Forced prom date (?)

Allows her to say she had friends before she frickin murdered them with sci-fi machinery

The cut off text at the bottom: Plan B: Normal gun + Shoot really fast

This is while Tessa is looking for something in the lockers. Claws, chains, magnets, Wings, and scribbled "HELP". Looks like the lockers were all specifically to hold the infected worker drones. Oof

We are in the future now baby. We have rererererereCAPTCHA. Funnily enough, it still couldn't stop a robot

There is a message board where someone who doesn't like robots is talking. They also are scared. Also no one else is using this system, which is unsurprising. "Ur aight ;)" Wait is the winky face intentional foreshadowing? Or unintentional?

We get the names of a bunch of other Worker Drones. Unfortunately for all 029 fans, her name was not visible. (also can someone tell me what "JWEB" could be short for?) And Yeva is said to have a patch. That may be the crucible thing idk

Cyn (which I will be calling this version Skyn [Skin + Cyn]) apparently took of the space suit just to give Doll the Withered Foxy jumpscare. Honestly really terrifying. If this photo was teased before release I think the fandom would've exploded

Just N being a good boy :3

The MDs, Cyn's pets. Nori refers to them as "Nerfed" so the "Entity" can ensure control, and says they were made to destroy other hosts. I don't know why Cyn would want them dead, but I'm not the loremaster here. YouTube line is there because I couldn't be bothered after the Railgun image

Probably already confirmed, but doubly confirmed that a symptom of the Solver is giving Drones organic insides. A Worker Drone body with a rib cage and guts. I wonder what would happen if the infection continued uninterrupted (also R.I.P. Doll I loved you :frown:)

I'm sure everyone noticed, but when Uzi tried to manipulate Tessa, the ERROR noticed appeared. Already hinting Tessa is not all she says she is

Apparently the Solver can create Black Hole Saws. Interesting development (Blackhole Blitz)

I know most people (I think) see this as a joke and N just being a bit of goofball. But honestly, I think he did it intentionally to shock Cynuzi and give Nori a chance. In the Pilot, he licked V's sword to surprise her too, which means he isn't unfamiliar with doing something weird and surprising for the advantage

Skyn eating Doll's core. R.I.P. Doll again. Seriously, was that Doll in Core Form like Nori was? Or was Nori a fringe case because she was "Exorcised" and this is just a regular core? Questions, questions. Also yeah the Solver also gives you a Core. Fun

This tag makes me think that this body is Cyn's actual body. Not longer a hologram, but her actual body from the mansion. The reason Tessa gave N, J, and V their names was because that was the first letter of their Serial Designation (she's very uncreative). However, Cyn's tag was slightly faded, which meant her SD couldn't be seen, so Tessa gave her the name "Cyn" after her P/N, even though the other 3 already have the same P/N as Cyn (Tessa, again, is very uncreative)...

...and for some reason, Cyn or the Solver, which ever theory you subscribe to, decided to wear Tessa as a skin suit for some twisted reason. It did help her with the Captcha. Also scary because this doesn't have the right proportions for an adult (unless Cyn really forced that skin on), which leads me to believe that this is a Younger Tessa, and she faked having an older voice. Maybe I shouldn't call her my wife... I'm sure Eldritch J is still available :^)

(Seriously, the eyes are burnt out, leaving two eye holes over the visor, so she gives herself two X eyes so it looks better. Also yeah we found out what that thing on the "It Came From Copper-9" poster came from. It really was Cyn or Skyn)

Just a frame of the final...frame... for coolness. I'm probably also going to use this for a background. Also, this is definitely Copper-9. You can see the ring and ringless moon together on the right. Uzi somehow got sent to orbit after falling in the meat hole

Well that was all for now. This series has consumed me entirely, body and soul, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Goodbye and goodnight

[jinkslee]

FORGOTTEN PROMISE

SUMMARY: you made a promise to Blade before you disappeared from his life forever. It's been a long time and you've long forgotten the past along with the promise you made — but not Blade. (Blade x f!reader)

WC: 1.6k

WARNINGS: asphyxia, rough Blade, blood, disemboweled bodies, a little bit angst, wip

AUTHOR'S NOTE: my first drabble (idk) that I crashed more than once, omg. enjoy reading, mates.

you carefully stepped over the lifeless body of an unknown cloud knight lying in the way. the salty metallic smell of blood hung in the air, and several viscous purple puddles covered the floor underfoot. a terrible picture opened before your eyes: heads and cut throats brutally smashed against cargo containers, broken limbs and gradually appearing on the bodies of cadaverous miasma with a characteristic putrid, sweet smell. despite the fact that there were countless corpses disfigured by the blade around, you did not feel the same nausea that appeared from the heavy stench of death. being a long-lived woman who has lived for decades, you have seen many soldiers loyal to the xianzhou alliance who have passed away: you saw them before the fatal battle with confident smiles on their faces and heard how the soldiers were escorted to the accompaniment of bitter female sobs and enthusiastic whistles from the excited crowd before they faced, after the defeat of mara, the curse of a long life continuing their existence in immortal, mindless bodies. the truth that I didn't want to accept.

moving with quiet steps along a suspiciously neatly laid out row of corpses, you occasionally looked back, as if mesmerized, staring at the bloody footprints left by shoes. but what you were worried about right now was not cleaning the damaged shoes, but something else — it was too quiet. despite your loneliness, it was as if you were naked, defenseless and vulnerable to something unknown. In front of something invisible and shapeless, which will overtake and sink sharp claws into the back at any moment. a golden ginkgo leaf landed on the toe of the shoe, slowly spinning in a gust of wind: withered, with barely noticeable cuts. here, one did not need to have psychic abilities and have the matrix of prescience ultima to understand whose handiwork it was. who left behind a mountain of mercilessly slaughtered bodies, as if hinting at his presence very close.

"no job was worth it..." you muttered out loud in fright, gradually retreating back on legs stiff with fear to the cherished exit. a few steps and finally a safe zone will appear. in the distance, the armor of the cloud knights who had arrived for the patrol could be heard ringing, which were clearly concerned about the sudden loss of a dozen of their comrades.

it was necessary to get out of lofu xianzhou as soon as possible, before he noticed you, learned of your presence on the ship. you'll have to hide your tracks, confuse your pursuer and get lost somewhere in the depths of space for the next few decades until everything settles down and your existence is remembered. it's like you were never born. should you inform the IPC that you are in danger and at gunpoint with one of the most wanted criminals? you reached into your pocket, trying to find your phone there. suddenly you bumped into someone with your back, hitting someone else's chest weakly.

"oh, I'm sorry! I..." you turned around to apologize to the unknown, but then froze in place. the fear that had bound the muscles began to spread deeper into the body, like roots breaking through the soil. your insides felt like they were twisting into a knot, and a viscous lump was coming up to my throat, blocking the oxygen. your heart was pounding somewhere in my temples, and the noise in my ears did not stop. Blade was standing behind him. he was exactly as you remembered him, and clearly had no intention of just saying hello after years of silence.

to run. inside, everything screamed that it was necessary to get away from him as soon as possible, while there was still no opportunity. you practically took off in the opposite direction, but someone else's hands gripped your shoulders tightly, pinning you with force against a nearby cargo container. you screamed softly when you hit the metal wall, closing your eyes reflexively. an unpleasant pain spread through my body, tingling in my suddenly numb muscles. you felt BLADE put his finger to your lips, telling you to be silent.

"really, I'm going to die like this," you thought in a panic, dreaming of falling into the ground without feeling pain. at any moment, you could lose your life if you just moved once more and gave a reason to the hunter right in front of you. but there was no feeling of the cold metal of the blade on the skin, no suffocating grip, only silence between them and the occasional footsteps of excited knights. it was only when you decided to open your eyes that you came face to face with your death. Blade was still gripping your shoulder tightly with one hand, pinning you back against the wall and glaring at you with displeasure. no, not just dissatisfied: in the scarlet eyes burned all shades of malice and hatred, which seemed to burn through your body.

"Blade..." before you could finish, you shrank back into the cargo container behind him when he abruptly pressed a bandaged palm to your lips. the cloud knights were very close, passing by a couple of containers nearby.

"you haven't changed a bit. even now, being on the verge of death, you can't close your mouth," Blade suddenly whispered with a hint of irony in his voice, grinning. after a couple of minutes, other people's voices gradually subsided, and now you are left alone, in the middle of a pile of decomposing knight corpses.

lowering his hand, he grabbed your chin and slightly lifted your head up, examining the familiar, refined features of a face stretched out from fright. it was as if he was making sure that he had caught the right person. a satisfied grin appeared on his lips, after which everything inside shrank again. after all, you got to know each other from the very beginning, it's just that everyone took this fact in their own way.

"it's been a long time since we've seen each other..." he drawled, putting his hand on your neck. unlike the monotonous voice, his skin was hot, as if burning, leaving an indelible mark near the throbbing artery. "hoping to get away from me by wandering around the universe in a panic? this overly idiotic arrogance suits you."

you were about to object when suddenly strong hands closed tightly around your neck, pressing on the artery. he watched with sadistic pleasure as you floundered in his arms in fright, desperately trying to save your own life: clinging to your palms with sharp nails, scratching bandages and glove fabric; trying to get your foot into the man's stomach so that he would have mercy. coughing and wheezing, you continued to try to push Blade away and take a breath of air, but the man remained steadfast.

"you made me a promise. however, you continue to pretend that nothing is happening," Blade said this time without malice, loosening his grip for a split second. it was not difficult for a hunter to end your life at any moment by making one simple move. but there was clearly an unknown reason why he was just harassing you to nip your will in the bud.

"i... don't understand..." you tried to say when the desired drop of oxygen entered your lungs. he was mocking. he was definitely enjoying what was happening, reducing the intake of air each time, listening to the quiet wheezing. that's exactly what you were thinking when your weakened legs suddenly lifted a couple of centimeters off the ground.

"really?" sarcasm was clearly audible in the chilling voice. Blade seemed to doubt the truth of the words. "have your memories become clouded in so many years? what a pity. i can help you remember."

the pressure on his neck increased, and the picture in front of his eyes began to float, drowning in mixed shades. Blade's silhouette became so blurred that it was barely possible to recognize his facial features. your legs were sluggishly beating against the metal wall, as if it was the last hope to reach his tormentor and escape from the suffocating embrace.

suddenly, everything stopped. you fell to your knees, convulsively inhaling as much air as possible into your lungs while tears involuntarily flowed down your cheeks. not out of happiness or resentment, they just appeared by themselves. Blade spared you.

"you know, i've changed my mind," he said, squatting down next to you. the man was not worried that you would decide to take off and try to escape from him again. In such a state, you would hardly be able to stand on your own, let alone run. "after all, centenarians have so much time to enjoy all the delights of life.… so during this period of time, you will definitely remember everything."

you stared at him blankly, trying to focus and ignore the annoying dizziness, but all attempts were in vain. the cyanotic bruises from the long fingers on his neck hurt, and it was completely unpleasant to touch them. Blade picked up your supple body and threw it over his shoulder, heading in the opposite direction from the escape exit.

"where... are we..." you asked almost in a whisper. your head felt heavy, it seemed like an unaffordable weight along with the rest of your body, your eyes were sticking together, and my mouth felt like a desert. you were about to lose consciousness after a few minutes of suffocation.

"what do you think?" obviously, it was a rhetorical question. you slowly closed your eyes, finally resigned to your fate, no longer able to keep your mind in mind. the last thing you could hear was Blade's satisfied grunt and a hand on your waist.

"to a place where you will remember and fulfill your promise to me. whether you want it or not."

[menthum-mint]

Completely forgot to update this but

SURPRISE THERE'S MORE!!!!!

I love them so much wtf- also refer to the first image in the original post for the previous designs for Wither, Ender.Dragon, and Elder Guardian :) (Wither is to the left, the others should be obvious![it's okay if not!!!/gen])

Wither Skeleton!

Ocelot :>!!!!

Snow Golem, you can see him hising behidn Iron Golem's leg in thr first image, he's come a long way honey darling🥺🥺🥺🥺! He's affectionately called Snowball...

Aa you can see, the Drowned has a much better design now!! Refer to 6th image for the concept-

The face looks weirs but it' sbecausw his nose is hidden by his hair, but god if you notice the one on Iron Golem's shoulder then 🥹 more improvement... His name is Pherin.

THE HECKING WITHER YEYGGRVGBF

He can do something very freaky to make up for the fact i coueln't figure out how to draw three heads- Named him Rith.

ELDER GUARDIAN, OR AS I NAMES HIM EDGAR🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 MAN LOVES SPONGES AND HE WILL GIVE YOU ONE. HE WILL ALSO CALL YOU GUPPY AFFECTIONATELY.

And the Ender Dragon herself- I didn't exactly know they sort od dubbed her Jean but i named her Endaedra...

And that's it ehueh :)

Compilation of Humanized Minecraft

First image is the ogs

Enderdragon top left

Wither bottom left

Iron Golem in the middle with a baby Bee on his shoulder and a Phantom on the other

Iron Golem's leg has Snow Golem hiding behind it

And Finally, Elder Guardian

Then we have the Warden (god he's my favorite)

"Steampunk" Blaze

Ancient War Veteran Drowned

Nonbinary Llama

Mooshroom lady

And here is the Shulker (looking like a homeless insomniac) and an Allay "Monarch"

Basically a leader of Allay

Please i love a lot of these designs,

[katkalis-the-horror-fanartist]

Whats the order of hierarchy in this au? Who's the most powerful to least powerful?

(also op that art where zoth and abducius are dancing together make me so insane/pos)

GLAD YOU LIKE THAT ONE. They have a few other things they do together too...But that's for other times 😅

These Tierlists should sum up the question. Defense Levels and Power Levels:

Then, under this cut, I'm putting the details as to why they're ordered like this! I'm also adding much needed details to be known about all these characters!

Hierarchy List (and facts)

Considering both Strength and Defense.

• Yan Luo Wang Diyu: Princess of Death. Astral Life Reaper. Brings Death. She holds complete power over her respective astral circle. All events that happen within are all orchestrated and catered by her.

• Drugia Fleuretty: Nightmare Designer. Humans have assumed that she designs clothes in the nightmare, but this is not the case. Drugia's talent is creating and designing eldritch monstrosities that reside in the Astral Circle. These creatures of fear and suffering, created by her hands (and sometimes Izanami's) send irreparable dread into many that witness them. Along with her dreadful ability, she too is rendered nearly immortal, with no known weakness. Some say that, with her knowledge and talent, she can someday destroy other Astral Circles nearby with an army of beasts from realms unknown.

• Quachil Uttaus: Misfortion Bringer. Astral Guardian. Due to their abilities, none can best them. Their misfortune is deadly, as it causes attacks to miss, injuries to become more fatal, and human organs to fail to function properly (sudden ailments such as heart attacks, strokes, etc.). Due to this, fortune absent for their opponents, Quachil's success rate for winning in a battle is set in stone as 100%. This power of Quachil's is also able to protect residents of their Astral Circle, bringing misfortune to anyone that attempts to harm any of them. As long as Quachil is aware of said confrontation. They often are, but rare cases can occur where they are fixated solely on one task.

• Chaugnar Faugn: Occultist. He controls cults circled around Yao Luo. He commands groups of her worshippers, which is already a high priviledge, yet alongside that, his defense and power are close to infinite. His weakness is undiscovered. It is said that only the Princess of Death herself can cease his life. Of course, she never will. So he reigns alongside her and is able to command her followers to defend her, himself, and her partner Orcus.

• Shub Niggurath: Famine Bringer. She is able to cause crops to be unable to grow and livestock to become malnourished and ill. Her famines can devastate entire continents of humans, and sometimes even other residents of the Astral Plane as a whole. In these cases, humans brought to the Astral Plane for soul and bodily consumption will also wither away as livestock would. Even beyond planet Earth, she is feared. Though it is believed she does have a weakness: To be decapitated by a golden axe blessed by either a god of war or a goddess of fertility and bounty. It is said however that, even if she is somehow slayed, remnants of her soul may last and continue to spawn random bouts of drought and famine.

• Zoth Ommog: Ritual Leader. Similar to the past Astral entities, Zoth is akin to a hellish god. The rituals he conducts provide many effects, defects, abilities, and assistance. Centuries ago, this sinful, lustful monstrosity was imprisoned by gods. However, Yao Luo successfully planned and initiated tactics to free him. He has since honored her and resided in her Astral Circle, providing her and her fellow residents much from his rituals. Considered the most vile entity amongst the Princess' domain, most fear him, aside from a select few admirers and slaves, whom of which Zoth marks with special sigils and engages in heretical acts with. It is said that he does have a weakness: being pierced in the heart with any golden object that has been blessed by a god of purity. This however may still prove impossible, as his heart rests within his throat, which is shielded by the very collar the gods had imprisoned him with. That, and runes he created beneath his flesh grant him many defenses.

• Teutates Taranis: Annihilator. Considered the most proficient and deadly combatant in the Princess' Astral Circle, it is said that Teutates can best any that cross his path. He, like a few other Astral Residents, has his own select group of humans and beasts that obey his commands. His subjects are marked with specific tattoos and all go through a blood pact with him. His skill in battle and talent for both swift kills and agonizing annihilations make him a formidable challenge in battle, even against other higher demonic entities. Some theorize that he has a weakness: stabbing out his eyes. Others, however, say that he is able to sense foes without sight and that this is no weakness of his. But recently, some have thought about another possible weakness of the annihilator: shooting him between the eyes with an arrow coated in a sedative. Something powerful enough to alter his brain function.

• Anazareth Anazarel: Curse Creator. After having practiced under the guidance of Yan Luo herself, Anazareth has mastered many terrible and effective curses fit for many situations. She also has a sigil bestowed upon her by Zoth in Yan Luo's will that not only increases the potency of her curses compared to others, but gave her the ability to effect even those that use magic to protect them from said curses. This sigil in turn granted her other moderate demonic powers and altered her appearance, giving her horns. She is in high enough authority to have her own followers like Zoth, Abducius, and Teutates. Her owned subjects have special tattoos on their collarbones, cheeks, or backs, and all have at least one horn as a result of them. Some say that cutting off her horns is her weakness. Other say that you must specifically burn the base of the horns after cutting them off, otherwise they may grow back. This proves difficult in idea, as she must be completely still for this to be done properly.

• Ishtar Ereskigal: Pestbringer. Similar to Shub in the aspect of affecting entire populations with food-stunting issues. Her pests range from cockroaches to rats to locusts and even mosquitos plagued with disease. Ticks, fleas, and bedbugs aren't even out of the equation. While she too can hinder farms, she can also infect households and wild environments. Her ability to devastate wildlife as well has granted her a vile, disgusting reputation. She may also use pests to assist in torture methods. It is said that her weakness is submerging her in holy water, which is already difficult to aquire in the Astral Circle. And even from Earth, it must be a decent amount.

• Abducius Morail: Mutilator. Though not as high up on the hierarchy ladder, the Mad Mutilator is heavily feared by many in the Princess' Astral Circle. His taste for agony and screams of pain lead him to be as torturous as Exael Lanithro with nearly as much battle prowess as Teutates Taranis. He takes intense euphoria and ecstasy in performing near-deadly operations and Frankenstein-esque crafts on living victims with no sedation. Even other higher-ups show slight repulsion towards him. He has some disfigured followers of his own, each one mutilated and/or branded in various ways. From skinned body parts to burned or exposed bones to body parts and organs of different animals. He has no specific weakness as he is closer to a human, but his own modifications to his body grand him decent defense, both physically and magically.

• Barbatos Barrabam: Human Hunter. Assigned an important job that benefits the Princess, Barbatos is well respected among his peers and superiors. He both speaks and acts straight to the point, always set on completing his goals with accuracy and no wasted time. Others may play with their prey, but Barbatos plays no games. They say he can see through walls. It is theorized that only being fully crushed beneath unbearable weight is enough to hault him and end his streak of humans hunted.

• Ah Puch Xilbalbá: Bone Breaker. Usually tortures mortals and disobedient slaves alongside Exael. He also often assists Abducius in breaking bones in victims in order to encourage their bones to heal improperly and become disfigured for Abducius' own enjoyment. In battle, every crunch of bones fuels him to become more violent, and once his opponent can no longer move, he may simply rip their bones out completely.

• Exael Lanithro: Torturer. Owning more twisted instruments and machines than any Astral Resident, Exael rarely runs out of torture methods for his unlucky victims. While some prefer to inflict harsh violence against their select subjects, Exael prefers more psychological and lengthy approaches, from water torture to slowly pumping victims with poison to using machines to stretch and rip victims apart. It is unknown if he takes satisfaction from his job though, as his expression rarely changes from his usual, somber look.

• Nyogtha Z'mog: Gravedigger. Though she is never often seen fighting, most if not all around her respect her. Sometimes, even humans captured and brought to the Astral Circle have minimum qualms with her. Harm against her, whether successfully applied or not, calls for instant torture. Though she has never truly proven herself in a fight, some say that she has swiftly ended the lives of those near-death with the shovel she often uses. She has also been seen using electricity to charge herself, leading to her never needing any rest, which even some superiors of hers indulge in. Her dedication to her job grant's her protection directly ordered by Yan Luo, and none dare to test to see if she is truly able to slaughter efficiently.

• Orcus Dis Pater: Skin Collector. Although nowhere near as high on the social ladder as Yan Luo, he is kept in close company to her. None have ever figured out why she keeps him so close. Orcus himself rarely speaks to others outside of the Princess' chambers, but when he does speak, those around him listen intently. Eagerly. It is said that skins he wears come from slain victims in the Astral Arena, and others have caught wind of Yan Luo working on a cloak for him. One made of 1000 skins.

• Lilith Lilitu Lilit: Witch. Brought into this Astral Circle by her best friend Anazareth. Though she has no specific assignments, she has never crossed nor annoyed the Princess, and therefore is allowed to spectate. However, recently in the past 100 years or so, she has taught herself more spells, and plans to ask for tutoring from Yan Luo, as Anazareth got.

• Izanami Yomi: Face Deformer. Her title may seem weak compared to others, but her worth comes from the fear she garners from those subjected to her ability. Her deformation powers can greatly affect the outcome of different gastly creations made by others. Whether it be carving faces for Drugia's monstrosities, sculpting faces of horror in Abducius' creations, or simply weakening an opponent by disfiguring their facial features, she has proven to not be as useless as her title makes her seem.

• Yog Sothoth: Vampire. Previously nameless before he was named by the Princess herself. He was accepted into her Astral Circle as long as he performed his designated job loyaly. His job requires him to tread between the boundaries of humans and the Astral Realm and use his looks and charisma to lure humans into being captured by his co-worker of sorts, Barbatos. It is well known that his looks are not completely of his own free will, but designed by Drugia and Anazareth as means of making him more appealing to humankind.

• Xezbet Xerbeth: Soul Eater. Xezbet shows little to no participation in Yan Luo's events. Little to nothing is known about his existence and why he has not been sent elsewhere. Some say it is because of his ability to unnerve mortals into submitting, while other say that he is only kept here to someday be harvested of all souls he has devoured.

• Dagda Crom Cruach: Soul Scarecrow. Little is known about Dagda as a whole. From his existence to his appearances in the Princess' domain. Like Xezbet, one can only hypothesize why this strange entity lurks about.

[mssaicos]

Assigning flowers to my faves part 1: Rantaro Amami

Okay the orchid one was easy since he's literally named "orchid", but I assigned him the yellow ones specifically

EDIT: I forgot to add the list of flowers and their meanings lol but seemingly there are people interested into analysing them 😭 /pos

Disclaimer: flower language can be very deep for some flowers so feel free to make your own researches if you wanna get more specific details about the ones I've picked✨️

But hey, here's the list now!

Yellow orchids: "Ran" means "orchid" already. But specifically yellow orchids because they mean overall happiness, joy and strength. They also symbolize appreciation.

Lily of the valley: "purity, joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck" ; a sign of happiness after overcoming hardships. Here in France, we gift this flower to others like a wish of good luck to someone we appreciate in any ways. It is quite the poisonous plant tho... and is hard to take care of as it withers quickly

Pink carnation: "gratitude"/"thank you"/"I will never forget you" ; affection overall

Lavender: "purity, silence, devotion, serenity, grace and calmness" ; this flower is well-known for its calming attributes.

Sunflower: hope overall. It also symbolize loyalty.

That's what he inspires to me 💐

[evilsoup]

it's kind of funny that when i have run-ins with the um... aggresively stupid, anti-reflective-thought kind of identity politics posters on here, they always try and pull out some screenshot of a pretty clearly-articulated post of mine from like a few days prior to the encounter and pretend that the post means something completely different to the words on the screen.

So a post about how religion is a way of coping with alienation and scarcity and so when we've eliminated those religion will wither away gets translated into a call for the cultural genocide of jews; a pos about how TERF ideology actually does have its starting point in radical feminist patriarchy theories of womens oppression and so should be understood as a left-wing path to transphobia becomes transformed into a post about how there's no such thing as sexism.

What's interesting in this is that the text that's being distorted is getting quoted verbatim and then claimed to be saying something other than what it says -- so this can't be blamed on some game of telephone kind of deal, where a message gets distorted by being passed around second-hand. These people don't come across as actually lying imo, they just seem genuinely incapable of engaging with the text in front of them -- it's like they see some keywords and then fill in the blanks based on some pre-conceived script, ratheh than actually comprehending the post. Sad!

[sunny-days-and-warm-mournings]

It is finally finished!! I am done and is so happy!!!

This is an AU exploring the concept of Sūn Wùkōng/Dàshèng as a Yaksha and Tu Di Gong, rather than being a Yaoguai Warlord during his later years reigning as the Monkey King.

This AU follows the beginning (with some changes here and there) up until Wùkōng's shenanigans with Ao Guang, then he went on a separate path from Wu Cheng'en's novel.

In this iteration our favourite Monkey explored the realms as he burned up time, but then he took a particular interest in the humans' ways of producing food. Since Dàshèng was so used to the grandeur and bounties of Huagoushan (being surrounded by such lush forests and mountains that never withered nor died) he sort of took pity on them before deciding to help them grow their crops much better.

But this is just the very much shortened summary of the beginning of this AU, and I have compiled some research and even more lore in my Google Documents just to expand on this idea more.

This— Westward To Tathāgatagarbha Lore Google Documents

This is the Google Document of my AU, which I highly recommend for you to read! It explains all the other details and such on this story! I did my best on making them but there would be still mistakes that I have yet to find, but it should be decent!!

This is a more casual look for Dàshèng/Wùkōng for this AU as well as some brief pointers! I made this before the portrait so some things might have changed.

(Don't mind him holding a cup of beer it's fine.)

Taken from the server (with some hints for the next half of the archives/docs) which instantly kickstarted this whole thing haahahjjjss, but it really was so fun talking about it to others! They gave me more inspiration that I can handle.

And what is Tathāgatagarbha you ask? (Brief)

In Buddhist philosophy, Buddha-nature is the potential for all sentient beings to become a Buddha or the fact that all beings already have a pure buddha-essence within. "Buddha-nature" is the common English translation for several related Mahayana Buddhist terms, most notably tathāgatagarbha and buddhadhātu, but also sugatagarbha, and buddhagarbha. Tathāgatagarbha can mean "the womb" or "embryo" (garbha) of the "thus-gone one" (tathāgata), and can also mean "containing a tathāgata". Buddhadhātu can mean "buddha-element," "buddha-realm" or "buddha-substrate"

The Chinese translated the term tathāgatagarbha as rúláizàng (如来藏), or "Tathāgata's (rúlái) storehouse" (zàng). According to Brown, "storehouse" may indicate both "that which enfolds or contains something", or "that which is itself enfolded, hidden or contained by another." The Tibetan translation is de bzhin gshegs pa'i snying po, which cannot be translated as "womb" (mngal or lhums), but as "embryonic essence", "kernel" or "heart".

The term tathagatagarbha first appears in the Tathāgatagarbha sūtras, which date to the 2nd and third centuries CE.

There will be more to this in the future when I'm finished researching more about it.

Also, speaking of people that inspire me, I'm calling my dear friends here who I think might like this: @digitalagepulao @kaijufluffs @sketching-shark @lavaflowe @sixteenthchapel @jttw-monkeybusiness and @hcdragoncat !!

Special thanks to Pardal and Grandpa Sun for getting me to write more of this too :D I had such great fun!

I have so much more to add to the docs and here but this is all for now :) and honestly this is one of the greatest projects I've started aside from the older ones. I'll come back again soon with more additions and art! And lore (And maybe some interactions with a few West Heaven occupants??)!!!