#distrubing and triggering

[tryingssss]

"we're getting the first rated r hunger games movie!" idk how to tell you this guys but squirrels are prob going to bite ampert few times and he will keep his flesh, skin and clothes. silka will only like stab wellie or they will show just her hair in between silka's fingers. we had some disturbing deaths and moments in every book and each time the movie showed less disturbing versions of that soo

[bratzboykai]

I'm surprised the Columbo geeks on this website aren't also obsessed with Monk. They seem to part of the same detective show venn diagram to me.

[misssakuramochi]

A SENKU x READER DRABBLE

Synopsis: Normally, you're perfectly happy to idle away at Senku's side as something of an assistant, helping wherever he might need you. It's not until a few hard-hitting comments by the campfire that you start to think you might be overcrowding your favourite scientist.

Requested by: A Lovely Anonymous Requester

Request: 'I am sorry I am distrubing you but do you open for request now? I apologize if Iam impolite but if yes, can I request drabble of senku x reader (dr.stone) where reader is a clingy person who follow Senku everywhere and do things Senku ask that are within her ability. Reader love language is physical touch though doesn't show it to Senku because afraid of annoying him. Basically , How do you think Senku will react if Reader suddenly doesn't cling to him anymore because afraid of annoying him.'

Age Rating: N/A

Warnings: Topics of insecurity and self-doubt

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

There was no way to sugar coat it, or any more flattering way to splice it; you were, for better or for worse, clingy. You knew it - Senku knew it - everyone knew it. It wasn’t a secret you exactly tried to keep hidden. Mindful as you tried to be of others social energy and where it might not align with yours, you couldn’t help but find your days more enjoyable when you had those you cared for at your side to enjoy them with you. It wasn’t always romantic - you tended to cling to your friends, too, often finding yourself craving the company of some manner of companion over the entertainment of your own thoughts. Of course, that wasn’t to say it was entirely unromantic either. Once the spark of attraction was lit, you couldn’t help but crave the attention of the person who interested you most over that of anyone else. So, once you had finally realized just how much you had come to like Senku, you had begun to find it hard to keep yourself apart from him.

Very much contrary to yourself, Senku wasn’t a person for such sentiments. He had a goal in mind, and if he wanted to finish it in time to see it come to fruition he had a lot to get done. For better or for worse he was level-headed, practically minded, and extremely logical. If spending time with someone would take away from his goals, he wasn’t going to be inclined to do it nearly so often, enjoy their company or not.

Drawbacks as they may have had, the machinations of Senku’s mind were something you’d come to love about him. His over-logical, straightforward responses often triggering fondness in your chest where others may have faltered under his blunt-faced words. Respect his nature as you might, though, none of that stopped you from wanting to spend time with him. So, you resolved ever-simply to make yourself useful.

It wasn’t as though that was a particularly tedious goal for you to start. It had always been important to you to be useful, to help the people you cared for however you might be able to. After the world’s descent into stone it was more important now than ever to work together, anyway, so helping Senku rebuild what was lost hardly seemed to be any sort of burden.

Before long you’d earned yourself the honorary title of Senku’s loyal assistant. Though it was a name first given to you in jest by Gen, who’d opted to poke a little fun at you for your ever-obvious feelings for your mad scientist of a leader (and he had been chastised rather quickly by Senku for it) it hadn’t taken too many more days of you following around after Senku to help with whatever work he happened to find for himself for the nickname to catch on. 

It had embarrassed you at first, a little, to be called out so bluntly for the way you followed Senku about, admittedly a bit like a lost puppy. But, behind the teasing words were kind smiles and supportive friends, and soon you’d settled into the moniker. Once you’d begun to take the jabs with teasing pride Senku’s disdain for them all but seemed to disappear, the joke becoming commonplace.

A loud voice pulled you from your reminiscence and a slight inclination of your head brought Yo into view, arms waving enthusiastically above his head as he beckoned you to join the group he sat with at the fireside.

“Yo! It’s [Name]! Rare to see you out of the lab. Senku finally pass out on his paperwork?” The bellowing laughter that came to follow would have told you Yo was drunk even without the wafting smell of stone-age alcohol that coated him like overapplied cologne, hitting you like a wall as you came closer. Still, rambunctious as he got, he wasn’t… bad, exactly. So, even as a bulky arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into a sloppy, sideways hug, you just gave Yo an awkward smile.

“Oh, no, he just told me I should take a break. We’ve been working since lunch so I thought maybe I’d bring him someth--”

“Ahhh, that’s rough!” Yo’s sudden exclamation took you by surprise, especially as one dramatic arm (the one that wasn’t still holding you in a drunken embrace) raised to hold his brow, lips downturned in a deep frown, “No wonder you came to grab a drink, eh? You! Go get them a double.” Though you initially met Yo’s apparent sympathy with blank-eyed confusion, the solemn nods of the others around the fire had your brow slowly curving in concern. While the agreement of Yo’s men was questionable, even Magma and Mantle were nodding along as if witnessing some unspoken tragedy that you, despite being the star of, had yet to be informed about.

“Can’t say I blame him though. A man needs some space every now and again.” Magma’s shrug, heavy but dismissive as he threw a clean-gnawed bone into the fire, put together the missing pieces for you.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. Don’t get me wrong, Senku’s a good guy but he’s like. Weird, you know? Here, don’t beat yourself up.” Though Yo seemed to pick up on your shift in mood as your face fell, and you knew he was well intentioned as he pushed the drink he’d had one of his subordinates fetch you towards your face, but the acidic smell of alcohol against your nose burned like insult on top of injury, and as your mind swirled in new-found paranoias you found your feet moving, quickly untangling from Yo’s light grip as you found yourself needing to be anywhere else.

“Um, sorry I’m not really thirsty. I have something I need to take care of, so…” Polite as ever you tried not to trip over yourself as you made your exit, struggling to keep your voice even over the lump aching in your throat. Too distracted to catch the way Yo turned to chastise Magma, you found your thoughts all-encompassing, your walk back to the small hut that served as your sleeping quarters a blur of whirling emotion and the strained effort to hide it.

You had been trying, for a long time, to tell yourself that you weren’t a bother. There were others in the village who were stronger than you, smarter than you, more dexterous and more inventive. But, you had always told yourself that none of that mattered. Maybe you couldn’t be as intelligent and persistent as Senku and his unwavering spirit; maybe you couldn’t be as quick to learn and improvise as Chrome; maybe you couldn’t be as fast as Kohaku, as strong as Magma, as charismatic as Gen, but if you could just be useful, it didn’t matter. If you could just help everyone, anyone, in whatever way you could, you had told yourself that that would be enough. But, maybe you were a liar. Maybe all of that, all of those thoughts, were nothing more than an elaborate way to free yourself of the guilt of trying to steal all of Senku’s time away for yourself; of being deeply, whole-heartedly selfish. Were you even trying to help him, anyone else, at all? Or did it just benefit you?

It would be those thoughts that kept you paralyzed for the next week. Each temptation to find Senku, to check in on his progress or see if he might be in need of a hand, was met with the icy thought that he may very well prefer that you didn’t. Hesitation held a cold grip on your heart, squeezing when you pictured the confrontation. If you asked Senku if you were a bother, you knew he wouldn’t lie to you. While Senku’s honesty usually made you feel safe, right now you couldn’t help but admit that it scared you. And so, you found yourself spending your days shying away from the lab you’d spent the last several months in, time spent with the others keeping you sated and perhaps sane as they drove away the chattering demons of self-doubt. Living to keep the demons at bay led you into a pattern of monotony, empty-eyed and unenthused as you painted on a smile you knew wasn’t as convincing as you wanted it to be. Still, it was better than being a burden.

It was the final evening after your week of reclusion that you finally felt something other than cold emptiness and choking depression; hysterical terror. Though, this stint of horror was blessedly short lived.

When the end of your work days came you had, as of late, found yourself longing for the thoughtless bliss of sleep almost desperately. Shrugging free of your clothes as you walked into the mud and straw building you’d come to call home you’d drop into a bed of straw and wait for the darkness to come. It had become such a standard routine that, when it was broken, you thought yourself viable to have a heart attack. Stepping into a dark home and hanging the leather overcoat that kept you warm through the change of seasons and seeing movement in the dark would have been enough to set you on edge; the lighting of your bedside candle from across the room made you scream.

“Wh-- hey, it’s me! Calm down!” Standing at the opposite end of your hut, illuminated now in the flickering orange of candlelight, Senku had the audacity to look annoyed by your reaction to his break-in. As you stared at his familiar, flat expression you found your fear begin to ebb - only for it to flow back as your eyes caught the shadow cast on the wall. In the unsteady light of a tiny flame his hair swirled in angry shadows behind him, limbs overlong and twitching; Senku, and the version of him you’d been so afraid to face. It didn’t look like he was going to let you run anymore, either.

“What are you doing in my room?” Senku’s frown only dipped as you posed your question, eyes locking with yours with a stern hardness that told you he wasn’t here to play games with you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Seeing you open your mouth to protest Senku raised and hand and continued, not giving you the opportunity to defend yourself; he didn’t want to waste time with the argument, “You’ve spent approximately 10 hours each day in the science lab working on projects with me each month up until last week - when you stopped coming altogether. You also haven’t been to any of the places you normally go, which means you’re avoiding whoever might look for you there.” Senku’s eyes dared you to challenge him, crossed arms speaking of his rigidity. Still, with your shoddy plans and simple intentions laid so plainly bare, it was hard to find any genuine argument.

“Well?” His simple response in the face of your downtrodden guilt snapped your eyes back from the floor to his, the casual, brow-quirked expression on his face only surprising you further. He hardly seemed upset - just impatient, perhaps as his hands found his hips and he inclined his head slightly towards you, “What did I do?”

This time your shock seemed to surprise him, too. Still, you couldn’t help your wide-eyed stare as, once again, the pieces clicked into place. You’d fit in the ones Magma had given you before, but you hadn’t stopped for even a moment to consider if they were even a part of the right puzzle. So overwhelmed with self-doubt and anxiety, you hadn’t stopped to see if they added to the right picture. While you’d been busy drowning yourself in your own tears, Senku had been trying to figure out how he’d upset you.

“N-no, Senku, it wasn’t--”

“Seriously, don’t bullshit me. If you’re mad at me I can’t fix it if--”

“Senku.” It wasn’t often that you spoke so softly and so genuinely, old habits of smiling to appease and speaking to placate carrying over even in this new world. It took Senku off guard to hear you speak his name that way, your smile somehow both guilty and earnest as you finally crossed the room to stand closer to your friend.

“I mean it. You didn’t do anything.” As his eyes pushed you for explanation you found yourself becoming bashful, gaze escaping his as nervous hands began to play with grown out strands of your hair as if you'd find an excuse less embarrassing than the truth within their tresses, “I just got worried that I was bothering you so I decided to give you some space.”

Senku’s eyes, narrowed as his lips pursed to push out a small hum, told you that explanation wasn’t quite enough for him - he could tell there was more, and he wasn’t about to let you go with any unspoken turmoils. Not after he’d gone through all the effort of learning your ever-changing schedule to corner you just to address them.

“Yeah? Who told you that?” The way your shoulders stiffened at the question told Senku immediately that he’d hit the right nail, and rather directly. It made him pause, for just a moment, thinking about how you specifically must have felt being made to think of yourself as burdensome; he was quick to sigh off the dull ache it caused in his chest, shrugging to himself. He’d found you and cleared the issue, which he supposed was all that really mattered now.

“Yo and Magma said that maybe… I should give you… space…” Senku had finally been ready to let it go when you opted to answer. The way he looked at you as you spoke, though, took away what little steam you’d had starting the sentence. Mouth having cocked ever so slightly ajar as brows flattened and eyes focused in on you, Senku’s reaction to this information was obvious. It did little to ease your embarrassment when his words came out to echo what his face already spoke clearly.

“You took advice from Yo and Magma?” Despite himself Senku found a grin quirking his lips as your cheeks tinged pink, pouting over your light-hearted embarrassment at having your actions laid bare so logically. As you began to whine about his assessment, Senku found himself unable to hold back a laugh. He couldn’t deny that you were cute.

“Look.” The sudden serious shift to Senku’s tone took you off guard once more, pout-protruded lips parting as you snapped back to genuine attention, “You don’t bother me. If I needed more time to myself I’d just say that.” Though the casual way he scratched at his ear feigned ease, you knew he was trying to settle your nerves.

“Besides,” Senku’s grin turned sharper as his voice took on a teasing lilt, fingers raising to give your cheek a teasing pinch, “who’s going to test out all of our experiments if I don’t have my assistant with me, huh?” As often as others had referred to you as Senku’s assistant, he’d never admitted it himself; hearing the words from his mouth made your heart clench and you moved despite yourself as your arms came to wrap around Senku’s waist, pulling him in for the hug you’d been aching to give him for ages.

Much as Senku groaned a mild complaint about the overly-emotional contact he made no move to resist you, fighting only the smile that threatened to show his thoughts more honestly on his lips than he wanted, for the moment. Rather, he allowed you your moment, reciprocating by means of a somewhat stiff hand resting atop your head.

“If you’re worried about something just talk to me about it. That makes the most sense.” Even under the light chastisement you just smiled, nodding into the loose leathers of Senku’s clothes. You’d spent more than enough time to find comfort in his bluntness, knowing he had just as much told you not to be stupid next time as he had told you that he was there to support you, and he didn't want you hesitating to rely on him.

“Thanks, Senku.”

“Yeah.” A soft scratch to your hair made you hold tighter, and Senku was quick to take to surprise.

“You can let go of me now.”

“One more minute.”

“Eh?!”

xxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Hello Anon! Please do not worry, my requests are open and I am always happy to have more things to write! You were not rude at all. Thank you for your request. I hope you like how it turned out!

As always, thank everyone else who took the time to read as well, and I hope you enjoyed just the same.

Safe travels, readers!

[spenglersglasses]

⌛⚙️ What a lovely day..... ⚙️⌛

Listen, lol I had to! Anyways already friends, here is my first and maybe my only venture into the world of Mad Max with a focus on my favorite character, Immortan Joe.

I am really excited to get this too you and as with all my fics I will update as I am able and inspired to make sure I am giving you my all every time.

**This fic will be an AU! Mostly I will try to stay canon but there will be some conflicts and reimaginings. This includes themes as listed in the tags, if any of this doesn't sit well with you, please skip this one!**

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️Discussion about RAPE/FORCED PREGNANCY/VIOLENCE/VARIOUS DISTRUBING SUBJECTS⚠️

Listen you are reading a fic with Immortan Joe, it should be pretty obvious. but that being said if you are still here, I sincerely hope you all enjoy!

Thank you so much for reading!

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the awesome dividers!

Glimmer in the Wasteland

Many years after the Citadel was conquered and seized by him, the Immortan Joe longs to feel something besides the pain and anguish of the world. Desperate to secure his legacy by siring an heir, he decides that now is the time before it becomes too late. Meanwhile a young woman named Corrine is separated from her group in the Wasteland and captured by the War Boys. When Corrine awakens within the fortress of the Citadel, her world changes when she has an encounter with the deeply feared and infamous warlord.

Chapter 1: God and the Scavenger

Immortan Joe struggles with his inevitable mortality and makes a life changing decision. A young woman, Corrine is separated from her scavenging group in the Wasteland during an attack and is captured by the War Boys.

Also available HERE on AO3.

Will eventually be very NSFW below the cut!!

It had finally happened. A spot—tingling. A pang of pain threatening that a sore would soon be sprouting up along the outer edge of his back. 

It would be the first outward effects of the nuclear fallout Joe would bear. One that no amount of salvaged antiseptics and alcohol washes could stave off. Lesions caused by a cancer too tenacious to be contained as it slowly ate at him from inside. Suddenly he, the Immortan, felt all too mortal.

“It is time.” The People Eater spurred him. Joe, nodding as the War Pups covered him in powder. HIs already pale skin turned ghostly white. Adorned in his pauldrons and chest plate, molded in plexiglass and covered in his former accolades, as he took to his feet. 

His long, ghastly white hair, flowing in the harsh wind as he approached the balcony. Ready to address the wretched below as they waited for the life-giving water. The people of the Citadel, all but decaying in the heat and waste of what was left of the world they all inhabited. Desperate for things, once taken for granted. 

As they stood waiting, the man they called “God”, began rolling his neck side to side. Hoping to release some of the tension in his shoulders. Held there from the weight of his breathing apparatus. His piercing blue eyes staring out into the Citadel under blackened lids. Tired and weary. The rest of his face concealed beneath the grim of his mask. Cold, chrome and equine teeth bordered by hoses for breathing. He looked as frightening as he did mighty, standing before them. 

The whole of the crowd below, cheering as they saw his silhouette appear beside his son, Rictus, and the People Eater. The People Eater leaned over to his commander's side. Holding up the shining microphone as Joe took hold of the aquifer valve levers in his hands. The time of placation, arriving once again. 

“It is through me that you will all find salvation. Through me that you will ascend. Rising above the rot and filth of this life…before moving on to the next…” Joe began. The people below crying out his name, Rictus clapping incessantly. Joe shot him a look, stopping him mid applause. The feebleness of Rictus’s diseased mind, growing more apparent each day.  

“Please sir, go on.” The People Eater nudged. Joe returned his attention to his task. Frustrated and angry that he had to speak at all. 

“...You shall drink of the Aqua Cola and remember who gave you this gift…” Joe continued, pulling the levers and listening to the gears as they twisted and turned. The water cascading down upon the wretched below. 

“That’s right. The Immortan is the redeemer!” the Prime Imperator shouted. Joe’s hold on the people of the Citadel renewed as the vapor from the water found its way upon his face. A cool mist that fed what was left of his own soul.  

Joe closed his eyes to revel in the feel of it on his skin when suddenly, the fury building inside him returned. The moment of solace, short lived as Joe began yanking back hard on the levers. The flow, shutting down as he removed himself from the room without another word. Leaving Rictus, the People Eater, the Prime Imperator, and his son’s Colossus and Scrotus confused.

“You had better go see what is wrong with Dad, Eater.” Colossus suggested from his small, makeshift chair. His diseased and deformed body, struggling to move itself. Swiveling back around to his telescope as he watched the scene below.  

“Of course, sir.” the People Eater replied as he fiddled with the chain that connected his nipples. Smiling and sending a nod to his ruler’s sons as before making his way out to find him. 

The pain was excruciating. Like an explosion that was still going off inside her head. Corrine opened her eyes to find darkness. She began to tremble, the fear—immediately settling in. Where am I? She thought.

Her whole life she had only known struggle. The abrasive grit of the sand and the heat of the unencumbered sun. The place she was now, it was different. The air still and the calm and there were drops of something coming from above her. It was cool and crisp like water across her skin. 

It was jarring. It had been so long since she'd had anything but the sensation of sweat running over her. Her body, more recently than ever before, in a constant state of dehydration and hunger. Life in the Wasteland wasn't easy, especially for a scavenger. 

Her people had been lucky. For years managing to gather enough supplies to keep the true horrors at bay. A hearty people, but kind despite their hard way of life. Corrine was born after the world ended, twisting into desolation and undeserving perdition.

It seemed now her luck had run out. Only flashes, sensations, and fragmented images remained from what had happened. She could remember the days before. Traveling across the endless sands and dirt plains. 

They were out together, the crew she knew as her brethren, scouring a deserted camp for ever dwindling supplies. Their trip, having gone on far longer than expected. Having strayed days away from their home. They had set up a camp for the night, ready to find their way back once the sun returned to the horizon.  

All seemed well until the sound of revving engines came out from the darkness. Her eyes shut open. Corrine quickly got to her feet and exited her tent. Running as fast as she could through the sand. Listening to the others crying out for help, before the sounds of malicious laughter began filling the night air. 

It was the War Boys. Until then they had only been a story. A tale told to the youngest of her colony as a warning not to venture far. A warning she regretted not having heeded.  

Was she being held captive by them? Why was she spared instead of the others? How long was she out? There was nothing else she could remember before things went black. No way to know for sure where she’d been taken. 

She could hear the metal clanking of the chains as she shifted around. The sound, rattling mercilessly in her ears. Her head, now pounding full force as she tried to stand. Feeling the wet, bloody knot that hid within her hair. 

“Ssss...agh.” She groaned as her fingers grazed the spot.  When she felt she had her footing, Corrine began scanning the walls. Feeling the rock beneath her hands as she tries to find a way out of the darkness. She continued until in an instant she was suddenly blinded. 

“Who's there?” 

“Hmph…” groaned someone in the darkness. A man, only barely coming into focus as Corrine felt her heart pounding in her chest. Wanting to flee, the sight of his shotgun barrel held out in front her. His pale, sunken face smiling behind it.

“Yes…yes, you'll do just fine. A gift, a delightful gift.” he said gleefully. In an instant a chill shot through her spine. Horrified at what was to come. 

“Where am I?!” She yelled, tears flowing down over her cheeks. The man disappeared and before she knew it, Corrine was listening to the sound of a metal. Clunking and scraping that rang out with the slam of a door. The War Boy’s ‘delightful gift’ realizing she was once again alone in the darkness. 

Joe paced the floor of his rooms—slowly and methodically. Every step, filled with harsh contemplation. Only noticing briefly that the People Eater had followed him in. 

“Sir? What is it? What are you thinking?” The Eater asked, wondering what could be brewing in his mind. Wondering if the Immortan was concocting a new way of cultivating crops? Maybe a strategy for expanding the War Boys’ lifespans—something more than just the unlucky blood bags they'd culled from the wasteland. The truth however was far more intrinsic, more primal. 

“Leave me.” Joe said, his voice level and his eyes fixed into the space before him. Focused on something abstract, but to him something completely clear.

“Maybe I could be of some help.” The Eater continued.

“I think I'm ready to try again.” the Immortan explained, the Eater’s eyes widening. He knew better than most what was truly important to Joe. One thing that his power and all the guzzolene the world could muster wouldn’t give him—a healthy child. 

“What's that sir?” he asked him still, hoping that it might be something else. 

“You know exactly what.” Joe chided. The hurt and angry present in his eyes. 

“Are you…are you sure sir? We were fortunate enough with Rictus and Scrotus. It’s been years since—”

“I am aware.” Joe growled, turning quickly to face his comrade. The memories of his failures, fresh in his mind. The People Eater did his best to swallow back his reservations, mostly in fear of the thrashing that the disobedience might incite. 

“Immortan, I come with news.” the Prime Imperator said, bursting into the room with a smile spread wide across his face. 

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?!” the Eater yelled. 

“Some of the boys returned last night, riding high and proud. They found a group of foragers out in the wasteland.” he continued, both the Eater and Joe intrigued.

“Anything worth salvaging?” the Eater asked. 

“The men didn’t last long enough to see the rocky formations but the other one they found—” he boasted before pausing for a breath.

“Go on.” Joe told him.

“The other one is a woman—a young woman.” The imperator finished. The People Eater let out a chuckle. 

“Sir…it seems fate may be on your side.” The Eater finished. Immortan Joe's eyes held a glimmer of hope within them as he approached the imperator. Grabbing him by the bandana on his neck. Burning a hole through his eyes with his stare.

You had better not be joking.” Joe growled. His ally, shaking his head and throwing up in hands in protest of the accusation. “Good. Eater, send for Miss Giddy and have her ready the vault. I shall seek an audience with this acquired treasure tomorrow at dawn. "

 “Come up, get up now. Get up. We haven't much time.” said a soft voice. Corrine groaned, rolling over on the ground. In and out of consciousness as the sweet tone of the woman’s voice calmed her. It was similar to her mother's and Corrine was devastated when her eyes opened to find a strange old woman, covered head to toe in inscriptions, and not her mother staring back at her. 

“Time?” She absentmindedly repeated, head still aching from the trauma of the day before.

“Yes…we need to move you to the vault. We must bathe and dress you before he arrives.” The woman explained, helping Corrine to her feet and walking her down a long winding hall. Stopping only once they arrived at a large vault door. So large Corrine had never seen anything like it. 

“What is this?” she asked. The woman, pulling the already unlocked door out before them revealing the beautiful scene within. 

“This is your new home.” she explained, nudging her inside. Corrine was in awe; in all her life she’d never seen a place so beautiful. The ceiling, open to the sky. The sun, beginning to rise in the distance and illuminating the room. Its rays shimmering off the large crystal chandelier that hung from above a piano, just opposite the room. 

There was a small watering pool along the ground. Flowing steadily like a stream. And there were books—lots of them. Oh the knowledge they held, she thought to herself. Would she be able to actually read them? 

Then there was another room. One with beds, real pillows, and clean linens. It was all too much to take in, her eyes beginning to tear. It just didn’t make sense, none of it. 

In such violence she’d been brought to this place, one of beauty and all the comforts she had otherwise been denied. But why? “Got it all fixed up for you my dear. Come, come. Let Miss Giddy help you in.” she beckoned, helping Corrine remove her tattered scraps of clothing. What was left of them, covered in blood and dirt. Then finally into the pool of water. 

“Giddy?” she asked, before gasping as the cool water surrounding her. Kneeling in the water in only her underwear. 

“Yes, little bird. I will be your caretaker. Get you everything you need.” she assured her. The woman easing Corrine’s fears as she washed her hair. Missy Giddy kept mostly quiet, careful to not disclose too much. Corrine knew answers would come in time, but worried she might not care for what those answers may be. 

Once the water ran clear of the grit and soil washed from her hair, Miss Giddy helped Corrine out from the pool. Allowing her to balance with a hand on her shoulder as she tried to dry off. Then getting her dressed in a white muslin ensemble. The fabric, billowy and light on her curvy frame.

Afterward Corrine sat beside the water as Miss Giddy brushed through her hair. It was long, wavy and a bit unruly after having been matted from the blood and sand. Corrine wincing as the brush tugged at the skin surrounding her wound. Miss Giddy did her best to be gentle and thankfully finished without too much of a fuss.

“Thank you.” Corrine said as she pulled her knees to her chest. “Miss Giddy.”

“Yes?”

“What am I?” Corrine began when the door opened, and a man stepped in. He was tall and impressive. Dressed in clothing, the likes of which she had never seen. An intimidating mask concealing the majority of the lower half of his face. His eyes, however, blindingly blue, staring at her.   

“Leave us Miss Giddy.” he commanded, it was clear to Corrine that whoever he was, he was calling the shots. Without hesitation the old woman left, leaving Corrine and the mysterious man alone in the vault. 

“What is your name?” he asked, Corrine feeling her heart pounding with both intrigue and fear. 

“What's it to you?” she asked back, still unsure of what circumstances she had found herself in. Clutching the wrap of the dress within her fists. The nerves, as clear on her as the orange hue of the sky.  

“I am not going to harm you.” he told her, slowly approaching as he grabbed a chair from along the wall and brought it to sit beside her. Corrine frozen in fear, wondering what he might do next. 

“Is that so? What if I don’t want you to know my name.” Corrine asked, careful not to make eye contact. Feeling the breath halting inside her chest with each passing second in his presence. 

“Then what am I to call you?” 

“Uh…It's…It’s Corrine.” she finally told him. Her eyes, unable to help but meet with him. The two of them locked on to one another. Sparking green and crystal blue orbs, fixed on one another—no way of turning back now. The man shifted in the chair, the movement causing Corrine to flinch. 

“Hmph…an unusual name to be sure.” he said, brows piqued. 

“It was my great grandmother's.” Corrine explained. So entranced at the sight of him, at the sound of his deep, thick voice that she wondered if she’d said anything at all. 

“I see. Well, here you shall be given a new name to go with a new life.” he began. The words forcing a knot to swell in Corrine’s throat. “Give me your hand.” 

“I—” Corrine began but could not find the words. The man, reaching out his hand for hers to take. Reluctantly she took it, the man helping her up from her spot on the ground. The two of them standing together, intensely facing one another head on. 

“We shall call you the Fray.” he proclaimed as he felt the roughness of her hands. A sign of her life spent laboring out in the unforgiving wasteland. A wasteland he would save her from. His gaze, softening as he looked at her. 

A soft heart-shaped face, clear skin with no sign of disease. Emerald-colored eyes that were kind and gentle. As his sights continued to travel along her body, he took note of her large breasts and hips. Everything about her suggested she was perfect, full-life, and fertile.

There was more to her, and he could tell. The way she spoke with him, despite her fear. A hint of strength beneath a thinly veiled exterior. An observation that spoke to him, in ways he couldn’t quite comprehend. 

Corrine took in a deep breath; it was more than obvious he was sizing her up for something. This man whose name she didn’t know, though he now knew hers. As she exhaled, she summoned the courage to ask him.

“And what…what is your name?” she inquired. Watching a change in the man’s demeanor. The soft look, growing more sinister as he pulled her towards him. Now only inches from the haunting mask on his face. 

“It's Joe.”

Notes: Aqua Cola- WaterRe Guzzolene- gasoline

[raihanijulie]

Introducing a hero in Lemniscus...

☆Hz Railstar!

The hero Ribbaniuns always rely on! A prince who ran away from his kingdom and decided to be a hero, Hz Railstar!Hertz believes in freedom and always has curiosity with everything outside the border. He loves discovering new knowledges and experiences! Hz's hero motive is also because he value each ribbaniuns' souls so much... He'd do anything to protect and stand whats right for them. He doesn't need any paybacks because he is living his life in the free, wide world of Lemniscus

Hertz is an original character based on the guy himself, Sonic the hedgehog! He mostly adapt his look, skills, traits, etc... but in the end, he developed and grew to be his own figure, creating Hz Railstar! Keep in mind he is NOT Sonic

To see more of my Hz contents, check out the #hertz railstar /#hz railstar tags!

Check these out to learn more about Hertz☆

Main page: Hz Railstar's Toyhouse link (i usually develop and put infos of my chars through doodles, would reccomend to scroll through galleries to learn more of the characters! Keep in mind of the warnings i put in his profile please <3)

Lores: Lemniscus' timeline.

Extra Note: Fun Fact Compilations.

ADDITIONALLY, for arc/lores related, Hertz managed to have some 'different forms/looks' while going throught events. Here are some he has achieved so far☆

'The Monster'/Werewolf. The effect of receiving 'The Curse', some kind of dark magic energy. An extreme physical transformation, turning Hz into a monster, a wolf-like. Triggers only after the sun sets until the sun rises (the transformation process also hurts Hz alot). Hertz loses his control and ability in this form, causing the monster to be very dangerous as it can destroy anything on its way and has the habit to 'eat' ribbaniuns as much as he can (believed that it restore energy and power). The monster is very sensitive and can feel distrubed quick.

Super Form. A super state transformation achieved by harnessing all seven powers of the Adroit Stones. In this form, his abilities increase into infinite power and has access to unlimited energy. Its possible to defeat anything and save the day at this point!

Fractured Form. formed by having lots of negative thoughts while using the stones. This is the effect from his earlier curse he got, which then formed into Dusk. Anger, broken, and powerless are always the main reason to trigger. While in this form, almost NO ONE could stop him until he himself could control his temper down.. or until he is in a weak position (he is much powerful in this form, but his body couldn't handle such power. This form can take ALOT of Hz's energy so he might pass out for days in the end). This form is not stable.

SEE ALSO: Dusk, Hertz's curse manifestation.

HZ RAILSTAR'S FOCUS/ARC☆

TBA

[dragonagegayz]

Content warning for distrubed (the band and blood/general content in the video)((trigger warning for flashing lights too))

So no old man smut writing last night cause my mom took me, my sibling and my friend to distrubed last night (got to also see three days grace with their og singer and I was having a great time let me tell you):D

I’m so tired and got a long shift a head of me today but I’m so invigorated to write today just yall wait this next part is gonna be the gayest shit you’ve ever read

[goldenscalez]

Especially when it comes to his family (whatever are his brothers or his mates and kids)

And I dunno, if possible that if San is the one who likes less to fight so he takes on himself to be the look-out, he too, I think you'd be very keen on protecting or in general make sure his loved ones are safe.

Honestly I feel like he's actually happy(in an harmful way) to be the one losing his head, if it means his brother got out the harm way or got a better chance at attacking.

But on the other hand, is an harsh blow at his self-esteem if he can"t and someone he loves get hurt.

And then he gets angry with capitol A. He may not like to fight and be at peace with living a normal life. But damn hell hath no fury as a distrubed peaceful man.

Ni may be quick and trigger-happy to fight but San'd probably bite, chew, spit you out and repeat till you're the sorry-est mf in the world

(I'm having big feeling for them rn sorry/gen)

SAN IS LIKE THAT YEAH DKFJJFKD

When it comes to protecting his brothers he gives it his all, believe it or not he’s not that bad of a fighter in my AU. He’s extremely protective of those he loves

(ITS OKAY DW!!)

[ask-a-thon]

Hi I just wanted to ask clarification on what content isn't allowed before I do questions and tag your blog in replies

I understand that having a concrete list might make it harder later but if you did I wouldn't be wondering what "within reason" means and whether non-con/underage/incest will get me blacklisted or something (since your wording makes it seem like that could be possible)

This is the section I'm referring to from this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/ask-a-thon/727189255425867776/a-gentle-warning

> However, that being said, there are reasonable exceptions that are not allowed to join the ask-thingie here. I think you all reasonably know who you are but if you're confused, please ask and I'll kindly tell you that I won't be adding you to the list.

"reasonable exceptions" is too vague. i worry that you mean writers like me when you say "know who you are"

Thank you in advance for your reply

Anon, thank you so much for your questions asking for clarifications and for pointing out that I was too vague when I made this post. You're absolutely right. I am also very sorry that it has taken me so long to get back to you, as I was very busy yesterday and it took both me and Myth a little bit to figure out some specifics now that we are working together. However, because I unknowingly created this problem I wanted to try to fix it and clarify it myself.

How are we fixing this problem?

We are going to make a specific FAQ and link it in the post you mention.

I am also going to link that FAQ in every pinned post that ever pops up again.

We are going to keep the FAQ updated with any other similar questions, especially clarifying questions from whump, distrubing, and smut writers.

I am going to go ahead and lightly answer your questions now so that you don't have to wait and so that other writers have the opportunity to see the answers twice.

Warning. The following messages use triggering language for some people. Some triggers include SA, incest, non-con, underage themes, etc. Please read at your own discretion.

Some of the things you said re-framed as questions so we have an answer:

Will non-con get me blacklisted?

Consensual non-con will not get you blacklisted. Not in smut, not in your romantic writing, not in anything. This is something that might make people uncomfortable but there is consent. Non-con in purposefully disturbing writing is also allowed because one of the key factors of disturbing writing is to be disturbed. I have always said that writers do not always write what they enjoy, what they believe, what they want the world to be like, because that's just not how writing works. However, anything that glorifies rape with the direct intention of just saying "rape is okay" is never, ever, at any point, allowed.

What about underage content?

I, Mod Aster, completely understand that there are a lot of minors on this website that want to read smut that includes their age group and that no matter how you spin it, it is legally underage content. That being said, underage content falls under a legal grey area that both me and Myth are uncomfortable navigating. We are also uncomfortable pre-reading your work and seeing if it will be allowed so, maybe unfortunately, we are going to put a hard NO on this one. I do apologize for putting a hard no on any form of writing because Ask-A-Thon is supposed to be a safe space for everyone to share their writing, but I do personally fear that even if the legal area is wider than I would suspect, Tumblr's TOS is graceful, all of that, some really nasty adults will use this as an opportunity and I'd hate to expose minors to that sort of thing.

And/or Incest?

We cannot keep track of where it is illegal for you to post incest smut, disturbing fiction, otherwise online. That is up to you to figure out. Personally, as someone who reads a lot of disturbing fiction, I loved Flowers in the Attic for how the main character struggles with this "issue" and navigates this through her life. I am not saying incest has to be disturbing for you to be able to post it, but because of the comfort zones of one, or more, of our mods and admins we are going to say that as long as you put this under a mature filter and it is not super explicit, we will allow it until we feel people abuse it.

For things that end up on the okay list we will ask a few things:

Please make sure all trigger warnings and content warnings are labeled appropriately and are at the top of your post so that people understand exactly what they're getting into before reading too far.

Underage smut is never allowed. However, if you're writing a very "steamy romance" between minors without intercourse in it, you should make sure it has appropriate warnings for adults that want to avoid that sort of thing.

Things that include anything on this current list BUT are just a short explanation of something happening, only briefly mention, and have nothing explicit are always allowed.

If you feel like you are still confused and are wondering if your works will get you blacklisted, please message Ask-A-Thon for clarifying questions. You are more than welcome to send your work, show us a post, and we would be more than happy to read it over and tell you your answer without any aggression, without any finger pointing, and without judgement despite how the linked post was written.

Please remember that the post that was linked was written somewhat aggressively because the original intention was to get people to be nice to whump writers. I, Aster, had no idea that disturbing fiction, non-con, etc, writers would think I was being aggressive to them. For that I am so apologetic and I do hope you'll forgive me.

Please give us some time to make the FAQ, post it, and link it everywhere.

-Mod Aster

[tntky]

No one's coming

I love getting lost on YouTube comments and finding out how we can easily link to a random stranger on the internet that just described exactly how we feel.

@Ethereal18 said il y a 10 mois ''This makes you feels like you're all alone, a bystander, listening to the Christmas party music next door."

And i can't help but think of whoever that human being is living that exact same thing. And in this feeling of pure loneliness, for one small instant, we are not alone anymore.

Think about it, where's billions out there, yet how many of us get this feeling of sadness whenever they stare up into the stars, luckily come across the moon sight and sights... cause we just feel so fucking lonely, even when being surrounded.

I'm so fucking tired of hearing this exact same phrase of " you will never love truly until you're able to love yourself". Idk who was supposed to teach me that shit younger, but they clearly didn't and now it's up to my adult ass to not be mad at them about that.

Do you know how hard i'm struggling rn? how heavy it is to be in constant conflict with your own mind. You don't want to know, you don't want to be there. I wouldn't wish it to my worst enemy, if i had one. I'm so busy hating my own existence, it takes so much of my time, of my health.

I wonder how mental health is so invisible to people's eyes... how can i be so sucessful at hiding it all yet not strong enough to stand up for myself. I just know i deserve to be treated better, firstly by myself. But it feels like i love being miserable. I crave people forgeting about me cause i don't value my own worth. And then i envy those that dare to live, cause i could never.

But in a sense they'll blame you cause it's your fault. No one remembers shit about you cause you always make yourself so little in order to not distrub. No one ever wonders if how they treat you is okay, cause you never complain about anything that triggers you. No one understand you when you're finally causing a scene cause you never tried to explain how blurry your brain truly is, cause you were scared they'd judge you for that as if speaking your heart out was a way to heal the world or something when in your cause it would have just create an eternal chaos.

And this weight you're carrying is not only heavy for your stupid shoulders, it's heavy for anyone that dares to get too close, pretending to try to help you. In the end my dear, it's only you and no one's coming to save you.

[ldss-interactive]

At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel

Overview:

Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…

You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?

Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.

Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.

You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.

- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!

- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!

- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!

- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:

Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.

- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.

- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!

- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!

- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!

- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!

Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.

Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.

Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.

Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.

Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.

Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.

Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.

Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.

Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.

Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.

Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.

The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem BAU Reader 

Warnings: Religion is mentioned, slight mention of supposed homophobia, drug use, death and thoughts of dying, kidnapping (it’s Spencer’s POV of Revelations)

Author’s Note: I was listening to Work Song by Hozier and felt like it fits PERFECTLY for what Spencer was going through when he was kidnapped by Tobias. I took some creative liberties, but much of the plot lines up to the show’s episode. I linked the song if anyone wants to listen to it before they read or after, it’s such a beautiful song. Hozier is in my top three artists; his voice is just so beautiful and soulful. 

Summary: The only thing that’s keeping Spencer alive is the memories of his Heaven. Maybe someone how a faithless man will escape Death’s grasp on faith alone. 

Word Count: around 3.2K

Category: Angst 

Crawl Home to Her

When Spencer comes to the first thing he notices is the smell of burning. The stench permeates the air around him, filling his nostrils. The second thing he notices is breathing. Breathing that is not his own. A man stands before him and it takes him a second to piece it all together. The throbbing in his head takes much of his energy. He can feel the blood drip down the back of his neck and cake onto the collar of his work shirt. Strangely, all he could think about is the time his father told him a respectable man never wore a spoiler shirt. Well dad, look at me now, Spencer thinks grimly. He hates that his father occupies his mind even when he’s about to die. He has much more beautiful things to think about than the man who called him a failure.

“They’re gone,” the shadowy figure tells him. Tobias, Spencer thinks. Tobias is the unsub. 

“Who are they?,” Spencer asks, his voice must sound as cowardly as he feels. He hopes that Tobias didn’t get Y/N. He can’t live with himself if he let his partner, in more ways than one, get hurt. 

“It’s just me know,” Tobias answers, in such a way that it’s almost obvious. 

“Who...Who are you?” Spencer croaks. The lightbulb hanging above his head taunts him. He has the lightbulb, but where’s the ideas? Where are the answers? Where is the light of safety? 

“I’m Raphael,” Tobias says, standing to his full height, towering over a trembling Spencer. 

Raphael... The angel...Spencer’s mind turns but is halted by the horrible smell coming from his side. It invades his mind and nothing seems to make sense. 

“What’s that smell?” he asks.

“They’re burning fish hearts and livers. Keeps away the devil,” Tobias or Raphael answers, Spencer is not too sure who he’s even talking to at this point.

“They say you can see inside men’s minds,” 

“That’s not true, I-I study human behavior-” Spencer reasons, but is cut off by Tobias/Raphael’s passive shushing. 

“I’m not interested in the arguments of men,” Raphael tells him. He turns around to rummage in his pocket for something that Spencer can’t make out in the dim light of the shed. Between the lightbulb blinding him and the stench of the liver burning, Spencer’s senses are overloading themselves. Focus, Spencer, focus, he begs of himself. 

Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win. 

Tobias pulls out a revolver and a bullet. He toys the bullet in Spencer’s face, asking him “Do you know what this is?” 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe. 

“It’s God’s will,” Tobias says rationally. 

The cocks the gun and aims it towards Spencer’s head. If he pulls the trigger he’d shoot him straight in his head. Staring down death, all Spencer can think about is him suggesting that they split up. He was the one who left Y/N, he’s the one that’s responsible.

“You don’t have to do this,” Spencer tries to reason. 

“I’m just an instrument of God. This is your salvation, this is time to repent for your sins,” Tobias says, pulling a chair to sit next time. It’s strange, Spencer thinks, Tobias is not that much older than he is. This job has forced Spencer to think of the countless paths that he could have gone down. Part of him thinks that could have easily been on the other side, the angry part of him, the broken and sad part of him. 

“Tell me your sins, and may God forgive you,” Tobias says, his voice almost as fearful as Spencer feels. 

Spencer closes his eyes, trying to think of all the things he’s done wrong in his life. All the people he’s hurt or the mistakes that he’s made. But at this moment there’s nothing running through his mind by the thought of Y/N. The way she’d hold him after a case or the way that she’d listen to him with light in her eye’s. It’s nice to have someone who cares, Spencer thinks. Or at least it was. 

“I’m a good man, Tobias, I’m a good man. Like you, we catch the bad guys, Tobias--we are the same. We catch the sinners.” Spencer professes, trying anything to get out of here alive. He’d do anything to get back to Y/N. To get back in her warm embrace. 

“We all have our sins, including you. You just need sometime to sort them out,” Tobias says, and like that he’s gone with the wind. 

***

It’s early morning when Spencer wakes up, the sun bleeds through the cracks of the wood panel door. His clothes are caked in his blood and dirt. His hair is stringy and the blood from his ear clogs his hearing. But he’s alive, he's still here, breathing the same air as Y/N. Somehow that’s enough to keep him hoping that she’d find him- save him. 

The door opens with a sudden slam, Tobias walks in carrying a load of logs. There’s something different about him. Spencer thinks that there’s an air of arrogance, an air of superiority in his walk. 

“What are you staring at, boy?” Tobias- or at least the man who looks like Tobias Hankel asks. 

“You’re not Raphael?” Spencer reasons. 

Tobias throws the pile of logs into the box on the floor of the shed. He stands up to his full height, but there’s something that’s taller about him than last night. There’s something more intimating about the man standing before Spencer. 

“Do I look like Raphael to you?” Tobias asks, the sneer so apparent. 

Spencer decides to ignore that, answering this person, whoever he is, is not in his best interest. 

“Thank you for burning these, for keeping us safe,” Spencer says, trying to get on his good side for his sake, so he can go back to Y/N. 

Y/N. If Spencer can just close off his mind and focus on her, he’d be okay. He’d get through this. If he can just close his eyes he can just feel her touch or taste her lips against his. If her kisses make him a sinner then crucify him. Least he’d die a happy man, with the promise of tomorrow with her endless love. 

“Don’t try to trick me, you’re are filthy liar, you’re a disgusting sinner,” 

God, Spencer thinks, waits until he hears that he’s from Vegas and fell in love with a man. Spencer focuses on breathing, not the itch from being dirty with his own blood or not the thought of impending death. 

“It will be over if you confess, boy. Confess your sins!” Tobias yells. 

“I’m not a sinner,” Spencer says, almost defiantly. There’s a surge of strength in Spencer, and he swears that the small memories of Y/N makes him a stronger person. 

“We are all sinners” 

“The Lord spoke unto Moses saying, ‘speak unto all the congregation of the children of the lord’  and say unto them, ye shall be holy, for I, the lord your god, am holy,” Spencer quotes, the fear somehow seeping back into his voice. 

“You know Leviticus,” Tobias says, almost surprised. Yes, Spencer thinks, even heathens can quote the Bible. 

“I know every word of the Bible, I can quote it for you?” Spencer pleads. 

“Even the Devil can read,” Tobias tells him. 

Spencer’s wound bleeds down his neck, the throbbing almost pounds to the beat of his heart.

“It’s time to confess, Spencer Reid,” Tobias whispers, leaning into Spencer. 

“I’m a good man, Tobias. I finally found someone who puts back the pieces. I found someone who loves me, and I can’t leave her like this. I can’t do that to her.” Spencer confesses. 

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,” Tobias quotes, and as he does his face seems to drift off. It’s like he's there with Spencer, but not there at the same time.

“First Corinthians, Verse 13,” Spencer recites. 

“Hmm, so your parents did raise a believer,” Tobias reckons. 

More or less, Spencer thinks. He might not believe in God the Almighty, some entity in the clouds watching over him, but he does believe in love and maybe even an afterlife. He has to believe in an afterlife, because if he doesn’t he’d fail to give Y/N forever. 

“Yes,” Spencer says, settling on playing the part of a righteous believer. 

“Yes, my parents read me the Bible. They are good people too,” Spencer tells him. 

Spencer’s not really sure what happens next, but the blow to his head makes the world go black and the sweet memories of Y/N fade into the distance. 

*** 

A cool rag presses against Spencer’s head, where he figures where “Tobias” hit him, or whoever was there with him. 

Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID. DSM-5. 300.14 (F44.81). Tobias has three personalities, Spencer thinks. He remembers the day vidily. Reading about DID with Ethan, they sat on the lawn of the park near school. His memories are distrubed by a very confused looking Tobias, who hold bandages and a wet rag. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, hoping that whoever was there last night is gone. 

“Tobias,” he says, almost meekly. Spencer recognizes something in that, somewhere deep inside him, he recognizes the fear that Tobias wears like a shield. The man here last night must have been his father... 

“Who was here last night?” 

“My father, Charles,” Tobias says. “I’m sorry if he hurt you.” 

Tobias turns to reach in his bag, he brings out a vial of clear liquid, a needle and a long piece of cloth. He ties the long piece of cloth around Spencer’s arm, who with a sudden realization fights to get away from Tobias. 

“NO! Please, NO!” Spencer yells, trying his hardest to fend off the inevitable. 

“It helps, Spencer. I’m trying to save you from him! It’s gonna help, it helped me,” Tobias tells him, continuing to tie the fabric in a tight knot above Spencer’s elbow. 

“Please! I don't want it!” Spencer pleads as the room folds in one him, the darkness is not welcoming, it's suffocating. It’s sucking the life out of him and he can’t escape it’s clutches. 

***

There’s another person in this shed, Spencer thinks. He tries to strain his eyes to make out who it is. It’s not Tobias, the shadow is too short for him. 

Y/N. 

She’s wearing a dress, the blue dress that she wore on their first date. He loves that dress on her. He’s sure he’d love any dress or anything she’d put on to wear for their first date, because well, it’s their first date. 

“Spencer,” her voice is even more comforting than usual. It’s syrupy sweet and he feels like he’d get a toothache just from listening. 

“Sweet Spencer, you need to come home to me, okay? Come home to me baby.” 

He tries to call out to her, but it’s futile. She's a ghost, but she looked so real. Maybe he’s the ghost and his eternal damnation is to haunt her. He’s able to see her, but never able to get close enough to feel the way her hands caress his checks or the way her eyes light up at his touches. 

The spooky beauty of his girlfriend is whisked away with the familiar shoots of two tall, skinny figures. His parents. His father sits there on the table with a sneer on his face. His mother has this faraway look on her face. Spencer’s twelve again, listening to his father yell and slam the bedroom door as he rushes out the door, never looking back. 

The shadowy figures are gone as soon as they came and are nothing but a reminder to Spencer that he’s not worthy of love. He feels guilty. He really does, but the needle going into his vein brings back Y/N and for now he wants nothing more, but to see her, even if it’s not real. 

***

Spencer’s not sure if he craves the clear liquid in the vial because he gets to see Y/N or if he craves to see Y/N because gets to the liquid coursing through his veins, the slightest reminder that he’s alive. 

He’s alone in the shed, but there’s a bright green light blinking. A computer, he wonders. Is this the way from the Ninth Circle of Hell? Is this his way home, his way to Y/N? 

His thoughts of home and of their warm bed are interrupted by who he can only assume is Raphael, enough time has passed for him to be rising to the surface. Part of him misses Tobias, they’d probably would have been friends growing up. Two outcasts raised by a parent who meant well, but did do irreparable harm in the end. 

“It’s time to choose,” Raphael announces. He points to the computer screen, which lights up. Spencer can only assume that his face is being streamed across the internet. Garcia, and probably the entire team are watching this, watching him at his lowest moment. He swore that he’d never show Y/N himself like this, even though he knows that she’ll love him still. 

“Choose a member of your team to die. You are all sinners in the end, but it’s time for you to choose who dies.” Raphael tells him, his voice booming, a stark difference from the nervous murmurs of Tobias. 

“No,” Spencer shouts. “Kill me, kill me instead!” 

“Choose or they all die!” Raphael yells. 

Think, Spencer. Think. He looks around at the shed, trying to think of an out. His eyes latch on to the shovel sitting in the corner of the room. That’s new, he realizes. A cemetery, a grave... 

“I choose Y/N,” Spencer says, not truly believing what he’s saying, but praying that she gets the message. 

“Why?” Raphael asks. 

“She’s prideful and careless,” Spencer reasons, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant. 

“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall,” Raphael quotes. 

“Yes, John 14:27,” Spencer says. And with that his fate and Y/N is sealed. It’s funny in a twisted way, he always knows that his fate would be forever linked to hers, but not just in this way. 

“Come on, boy. Get up,” Raphael orders him. 

Spencer makes it to his feet and the pair make their way into the night. 

***

Spencer’s not sure how far he’s walked, but his feet are numb and he can’t feel anything in his arm. The inside of his arm is littered with marks, a constant reminder of the cravings he’s feeling. No, he tells himself. What he craves is Y/N. He makes his way up the rocky terrain of the cemetery, hoping that she’s on her way to rescue him, hoping that she’s there to wash away the dirt and kiss his scars. 

Raphael is at his side, pulling him along. It's a strange similarity to Dante and Virgil and their journey to the depths of Hell. Maybe in this scenario Spencer isn’t Dante, maybe he’s Beatrice waiting for his Dante to rescue him. 

“Please, I need rest. I’m exhausted,” Spencer tries to argue, but it’s no use. Raphael’s grip on his arm only tightens. 

“Keep moving,” 

They arrive at the cemetery. Spencer is not ready to die. He’s not ready to die and leave Y/N. He wishes he really did believe in God because maybe, maybe he wouldn’t be as scared as he is right now. 

“Dig,” Raphael tells him, tossing the shovel on the ground at Spencer’s feet. 

As if he’s shaking Death’s hand, Spencer reaches down for the shovel and starts to dig. Each deposit in the mountain of dirt is a cry for help. Each time he cracks his neck in pain or rubs his hands in exhaustion is a goodbye kiss for Y/N. 

Spencer stands to his full height. He’s nearly as tall as Tobias, somehow he still feels like a child. 

He suspects that Tobias feels the same way. Maybe one day Spencer will come to regret his choice. Maybe one day Spencer will be grateful that he reached into the very depths of his strength to fight to the very end. 

“Tell Tobias I’m sorry,” Spencer says, the tears flooding his eyes. 

Spencer bangs the back of the shovel against Tobias’s head. His limp body falls to the ground and suddenly he’s terrified that Tobias is somehow still alive. Spencer scrambles for the gun and pulls the trigger. He’s not even sure how many shots he fires but the body is punctured with bloody holes. Spencer, clutches are Tobias’s lifeless body. As if he can squeeze him back to life. 

He thinks he’s imagining it. He thinks that he’s on the brink of death. There’s a light, a soft yellow light beckoning him home. A voice calls out to him, clear and strong, it’s drawing him in and Spencer is crawling from his own grave to the voice that he could recognize anywhere. He’s teetering between Heaven and Hell. Y/N’s voice and light tether him home. 

“Spencer!” she calls. Finally, he thinks. Finally, she’s close; he lets himself believe he’s safe. 

“I’m here!” he shouts, surprised at the force of his voice. 

“Oh Spencer,” she says, running to him. 

She falls to the ground next to him. Spencer is scared that she’s not real, that it’s the drugs in his system again making him believe that she’s nothing but a cruel figment of his mind. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I knew you’d find me. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it,” Spencer cries, his face tucked into the crook of her neck. 

“Shhh, baby. I’d find you anywhere. Hmm, let’s get you out of here. You are safe now Spencer,” she tells him softly. 

Spencer may not be a man who believes in God but he has to believe in Heaven, because Heaven is holding him in her arms. 

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 

[anunvalidcritic]

INVINCIBLE: S1-EP8

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

It’s the last episode.... Let’s dive in boys, girls, and non-binary folks!!!

                          WHERE I REALLY COME FROM

Is it just me or did this week go by really fast??? (went by to fuckin’ fast bcuz I fuckin’ forgot!)

alright so we’re starting off by staring at the grass... that’s a pretty calm start..

nvm it’s raining blood

INVINCIBLE looks sick asf

well, I’m glad that was his first reaction

“It’s me Mark, It’s just me.” - OMNI-MAN 

BRO VILTRUMITES ARE FUCKIN’ SAVAGES

DEBBIE has always been a baddie

Bro OMNI-MAN’s storyline is fuckin’ amazing

“You love me, you love Mom! I know you do.” - INVINCIBLE MARK

go ahead and that shit out now my dude

“Do you have any idea how long we live? The older we get, the slower we age. Viltrumite DNA is so pure you’re nearly full-blooded. You’ll live for thousands of years. Do you understand what that means? Everyone you know and love will be gone before you even look thirty.” - OMNI-MAN 

well damn thanks for dropping this knowledge on us, sir.

ICONIC DIALOGUE

OMNI-MAN - “I do love your mother. But she’s more like a... a pet to me.”

MARK - “A pet?”

OMNI-MAN - “This is the only way, Mark.” *as he reaches for MARK’s shoulder*

MARK - “Don’t touch me!”

NO THIS MOTHERFUCKER DIDN’T!!!!! DID Y’ALL HEAR WHAT HE JUST SAID!!!??!!?!?!?! I CAN’T DO THIS BRO!!!!!!

go off MARK, talk yo shit!

“I don’t give a shit about Viltrum. And I don’t care if I live a fuckin’ million years. This is my home and I won’t let you destroy it!” - INVINCIBLE

Bro, don’t let your daddy beat yo' ass! You are a grown man now.

dude, this title for the last episode is fucking exceptional!

those dudes in the jets are gonna lose their fuckin’ lives

You know, it’s unfortunate that they know that shit is just a distraction for him and not life threating. 

He didn’t have to demolish that man like that...

this man is ruthless

“Did seeing that man lose his life distrube you? Did it hurt you?! Well, let’s see how you handle this.” - OMNI-MAN

👁 👄 👁

Don’t you just love it when motherfuckers just stop and stare when they see a disaster happening??

Now I understand that the building is more than likely collapsing on it’s own, but I wouldn’t be surprised if his dad is pushng it from the other side. 

They’re really fuckin’ up Chi-Town right...

I could’ve told you that woman wasn’t gonna make it...

as evil as this man is... his character is amazing 

I love seeing MARK rage this dude just goes in!

“For the first time in your life, I’m telling you the truth.” - OMNI-MAN

what is he aboour.

THAT WASN’T FUCKIN’ NECCESSARY!!!!!!!!!!!!

... their suits need more than a deep dry cleaning

He didn’t have to swerve MARK like taht!

the clouds look nice...

okay, that’s enough OMNI-MAN!!

I wish they would’ve at least kept ZACHARY QUINTO’s voice because I miss the guy

See, this episode is a prime (pun intended) and I mean a PRIME example of how raising your kids with a good upbringing is important. If MARK was raised the way OMNI-MAN had intended to raise him, then he would’ve been a complete asshole... an extremely strong asshole, but an asshole. 

you know this is very triggering... RIP GLENN

“You wanna die for this planet? Fine. What’s seventeen more years? I can always start again... make another kid.” - OMNI-MAN

FLASHBACK

YOUNG MARK = LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL

“Look at Mark. You and I made him. He’s ours. When he feels joy, we feel joy. See that look on his face. How can you see this and not feel the same way. As we get older it’s harder to feel that.” - DEBBIE

GOD! Can Sandra Oh be my fuckin’ mom!?!?!

NOLAN still ain’t shit....

~~~~~~

I like how he had that flashback while he was beating his son to a pulp

homeboy has to get dentures now...

only a narcissist would say some shit like this

“You dad, I’d still have you.” - MARK

that’s fuckin’ heartbreaking....

ik it’s not funny but MARK looks horrible..

looks like OMNI-MAN went back home cryin’

AMBER feelin’ like a complete dick as she should!! (I was rooting for y’all)

how long was he out??

DEBBIE you married an evil motherfucker, but it’s not your fault

Who tf cursed MONSTER GIRL?? She must’ve said or done some foul shit... And who tf fucked up CECIL’s face??

let it out DEBS let it out..

ik tf AMBER just didn’t!! deadass thought it was EVE...

lol the way WILLIAM saved that was hilarious!!

“We can try but it’s literally all anyone is tlking about in the world” - WILLIAM 

come on now dude

😆 I could’ve sworn DUPLI-KATE looked asian and not white like EVE. WILLIAM is trifflin’

I was gonna say during the montage clip I knew one of those species looked familiar.

MARK + ALLEN THE ALIEN = BEST BUDS

Mars is gettin’ fucked up from the ground up.

ICONIC DIALOGUE

ALLEN THE ALIEN - “What’s the plan in the meantime?”

INVINCIBLE - “Finish high school, I guess.”

ALLEN THE ALIEN - “Oh, alright good. Sounds good. What is high school?”

_____

I liked the way it ended! It’s unfortunate that we must bid ado to this lovely grotesque show of INVINICBLE, but alas we must in order to move onto greater things and the world beyond. Hopefully, they’ll get confirmed for a second season because I really don’t want them to end on such an extraordinarily high point...

List of Episodes with link :) ~

EP1 - EP2 - EP3 - EP4 - EP5 - EP6 - EP7 - EP8

EDIT: Thank god Amazon has decided to renew the series for not just the second season but a third as well!!!! FUCK YEAH!!

[spenglersglasses]

⌛⚙️ Take me to Valhalla! ⚙️⌛

Lol j/k

Hello everyone, I am back again with the next chapter of my Immortan Joe x the Fray (Corrine) fic!!!

This one is a bit shorter than my usual chapters, but I didn't feel like I could fit all the next bit without making things way to long so here we go!

I am really excited to get this too you and as with all my fics I will update as I am able and inspired to make sure I am giving you my all every time.

**This fic will be an AU! Mostly I will try to stay canon but there will be some conflicts and reimaginings. This includes themes as listed in the tags, if any of this doesn't sit well with you, please skip this one!**

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️Discussion about RAPE/FORCED PREGNANCY/VIOLENCE/VARIOUS DISTRUBING SUBJECTS⚠️

Listen you are reading a fic with Immortan Joe, it should be pretty obvious. but that being said if you are still here, I sincerely hope you all enjoy!

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the awesome dividers!

Glimmer in the Wasteland

Many years after the Citadel was conquered and seized by him, the Immortan Joe longs to feel something besides the pain and anguish of the world. Desperate to secure his legacy by siring an heir, he decides that now is the time before it becomes too late. Meanwhile a young woman named Corrine is separated from her group in the Wasteland and captured by the War Boys. When Corrine awakens within the fortress of the Citadel, her world changes when she has an encounter with the deeply feared and infamous warlord.

Chapter 2: Gilded Cage

Corrine is in shock when she finds out the man who has come to see her is the infamous Immortan Joe, but what will shock her even more is what her tell her is to be her fate.

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Read from the beginning  HERE! 

Will eventually be very NSFW below the cut!!

The air she’d held within her lungs, had left her. Standing still and unable to draw in a new breath. Corrine stared, speechless, into the eyes of her captor. The man responsible for her incarceration. 

Was it really ‘the Immortan’ who had come to see her personally? Was this man, the tyrant of the Wasteland? One who now bore witness to a single tear as it ran down her cheek. IF so then her ill fate truly was sealed. 

No matter how hard or how resolute she had grown from a life spent in unforgiving waste, she has never held more helpless or in danger than in his presence. While life before had been dreadful, at least it was free. Corrine, left now to curse herself for having been foolish enough to be caught. To have allowed the bittersweetness of freedom to slip away. 

The silence between them had felt like hours, though she knew only seconds had passed. Corrine tried to gather herself, if only enough to respond. To appear more courageous than she felt within her true resolve. Crumbling inside, like a dried husk in the sands. 

“The—the Immortan.” she uttered, swallowing back her urge to cry. And with her response, there was a hint of amusement that filled in Joe's eyes. A look that all but assured a smile was worn beneath that mask. Corrine wincing as she felt the grip of his hand tightening around hers. The blood pulsing through her veins, palpable in his vice grip. Her heart, beating harder and harder between them as she knew she could not pull away.  

“So you’ve heard of me?” he mused, taking a seat back on the chair. His adornments, rattling like chains as he relaxed into it. His calm, calculating demeanor—well kept. It was clear to Corrine that she was not seen as a threat. Watching him as prey watches the hunter. 

Joe drew in as deep a breath as he could muster, staring directly at his treasure. Visibly ogling her—Corrine, fidgeting in her discomfort. Joe was already infatuated, filled with desire for his wayward goddess that, as if by fate, had been brought to the Citadel. The Immortan’s mind, filled with salacious thoughts.

He pictured the two of them together. His fingers entangled in her beautiful hair as he thrusted into her. The Fray bent over the balcony, facing out onto the Citadel, as he filled her with his seed. The whole of the Wretched watching them—his virility was on full display. 

There was more. From the moment he saw her it was as if he knew. She was more than anything he’d come across before. Superior to any of those who had previously held her title. Wondering to himself if she would stand by him and the Citadel, together. Hoping that the Fray might save him a life filled with nothing but pain. 

“Yes.” she told him. There wasn’t a man, woman, or child that lived in the wasteland who didn’t know his name. The ruler of the coveted Citadel, bastion of prosperity to some, and leader of the fearful and zealous War Boys. He, of all, was the one person Corrine never wanted to encounter—and now he was a hair's width away. 

The realization stirred her inside. Corrine, doing her best to avert her eyes from looking at him. Her view, now woefully framed, on their hands. Her’s, still held by his. Corrine’s heart began racing, pumping hard with fear from behind the confines of her chest. 

She was stunned. The feelings and instincts inside her, that should be telling her to run, were absent from her mind. Desperately, she tried to shake off whatever unspeakable thoughts had begun to take root. Stuffing them down until she could only feel the anxiety and fear. Her gut, churning as she worried what was to become of her. 

There had been rumors, and all amounted to nothing good. The Citadel’s captives were either put to work, becoming slaves to its leaders or something far worse. The common thought being that women captives were surely assaulted by the high-ranking members. Made to become receptacles for their bodily fluids or, if lucky relegated to a life the likes of a dairy cow. 

The last thing Corrine could recall was the tale of Joe’s wives. A group of women, who were described as beautiful and in good health. All of which were said to be hand-picked by the Immortan to be his breeders. None of them though, having ever managed to give him a viable son. 

“Whatever you think you know about me, Fray, forget it.” Joe told her as she slowly tried to pull away her hand. 

“I can’t…you…really expect me to just…” Corrine hissed, finally freeing herself from his grip and stumbling backward into the water. Drenching the bottom of her dress as Joe stood back up and followed her in. Slowly inching towards her, Corrine doing her best to maintain the distance.

“What is it you think I intend to do with you?” He asked, gripping tight to her shoulders. 

“Nothing I want.” she hissed once again, their eyes meeting as he held her close. That same wretched pumping of her heart starting once more. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, noticing the flush of red as it filled her cheeks. Eyes dilating with the increased rate of her breathing. 

“You know nothing of me…” she began noticing a cocked eyebrow. “...and your arrogance is written all over you like the history men. No one longs to be a slave or…glorified cattle…or worse one of your command's whores!” she yelled, the backs of her calves hitting against the wall of the pool. 

“Ah…Is that what you think?” Joe asked, brows raised even more with the accusations. Having been, however, more than satisfied to know that his reputation and the rumors were still held up. Keeping those who might try to rise up and take all he had away from him at bay. “I could know you. Know everything about you…but it seems…that despite your snarling you are frightened of me? Don’t be. You will not become a slave or a Milk Mother or blood bag… none of those things will come to you. I would never give you over to them.”

“Oh?” Corrine began, confused by his answer. “...How can I trust you…you look as if I blink wrong or insult your position that I will be sent to slaughter. What’s to become of me in this horrid place?” she growled. Breathing heavily, eyes blown wide like a wounded animal. Teeth gnashing and ready to bite if need be to protect herself from harm.

“Heh…” Joe said, humming to himself. Seeming to be thinking before doing something that neither one of them could have expected. As Corrine’s breathing began to settle, Joe dropped the grip of his right hand from off her shoulder. His fingers brought along the back side of his mask, unclasping it. Allowing it to open—revealing his full face to her.

Corrine’s mouth suddenly fell open, staring at the man hidden behind it. His face was both strong and regal. Jawline, sharp and a large, but distinguished nose in the center of his face. And full, soft looking lips surrounding his menacing grin. Before Corrine realized it, she let out a gasp.

“I—I…You…” she stuttered, lips quivering with the words. 

“Am I that frightening now?” Joe asked, continuing to smile, bringing himself close to the side of Corrine’s face. Ready to whisper something in her ear. “Look while you can Fray. I can only manage it for so long.” he told her. His breath, shallow and soft as it traveled along the side of her neck. The sensation, making her tremble. A sight that did not go unnoticed by him. 

For a moment Corrine fell completely silent. Was the war god she had heard about really human after all? Just a man and not a monster? The moment between them, however, abruptly passed when Joe suddenly began to cough. The sound, rough and grating—almost violent. 

Joe quickly worked to re-affix the mask in place. The bladder well hidden behind his white mane of hair, began to inflate once more. Filtered air, filling his diseased lungs and returning his respirations to return to normal once again. Corrine, surprised as she watched him struggling with each breath. 

“You're sick.” she remarked. Without a word, Joe turned away from her. Bringing himself back out from the water and standing between Corrine and the door. Laughing like a mad man at her revelation. Now she knew the truth—that though the Wretched revered him as a god, he was still flesh and bone. 

“Aren’t we all.” he laughed again, that same sinister look in his eye had returned.

“I’m not…” she said, her words trailing off. Corrine swallowed back, stepping out from the water. The two of them now standing opposite one another across the pool. 

“Good…and you shall remain so. So young and beautiful. A desert flower, growing in the harshest of conditions. Yes, and strong…that I can tell. Here in the biodome you will be fed and clothed and educated. Miss Giddy will tend to your every need. You shall drink clean water and eat a bounty from my own personal garden. Sleep in a warm, soft bed and breathe the cleanest air that this world can offer.” he proclaimed. 

“Why? Why would you do that? Why am I here?” she asked, the only question the Immortan seemed to not wish to answer. A fact that chilled her down to the bone. 

“You were brought to the Citadel because your camp was caught by the War Boys in my domain. You were a casualty of circumstance.” Joe explained. 

“Where are the others—my people?” she asked him. 

“They are no longer your concern. Most of them are now dead.” he told her point blank. Watching the horror reach Corrine’s eyes. The people she had grown up with, friends, family, dead or worse and all because of him. 

“Then why not do away with me. Kill me or leave me for dead in the elements. Why keep me here? Why am I spared?” she pleaded, both angry and distraught. Unable to stop more tears from flowing. Joe intended to leave her unanswered. No explanation and without another word as he turned around and took hold of the door handle. Ready to step out and leave her alone in the vault when the sound of her sobbing made him stop. 

“From now on Fray, you belong to me…and me alone. I have not long don't have much time left and you…you will give me whatever I ask of you.” he commanded. His voice, boisterous and daunting. Its resonance, unyielding even with his back turned to her. 

“Please…what do you want from me? Just tell me?” she begged again. Joe stood still, staring at the vault door. Grappling with his thoughts. Things had already started off on an intense note. 

She was alone in an unfamiliar place, of course she had questions. She, like so many before her, was scared of what might come of her. Joe hoped in time she’d accept her fate, and that maybe there would be something more between them than originally intended. Her spirit was fiery, like the combustion of an engine, and nothing excited him more. 

“I want what any king wants for his kingdom. What he wants from his queen…and make no mistake Fray…here, and in the whole of the wasteland, I am king.” he began. His words, lingering heavy in the air between them. Corrine’s eyes fixed on him as he continued on. “I want a son. A son to carry on what I have set forth here. Someone who can ensure my legacy.”

“You…want?” Corrine began, having trouble getting out the words. Joe pulled the door open before choosing to answer her. 

“I want you to give me a son, Fray. A healthy child. Though us things can be different than before, if you will surrender to me.” 

“No…” Corrine cried back. Her fate laid out plainly before her. Joe turned to glance at her one last time before exiting the vault. Shutting the door tightly behind him and leaving her alone once again. Suddenly the beautiful ceiling, Corrine had admired, had begun to resemble a gilded cage.  

[someone-worth-racing-for]

And here I am again, on the topic of Carlos haters. I'm actually very happy for you for not being around people who wish him to crash or to die, because there are so many out there. And its scary. Especially in F1. In a sport where every single fan knows, how it can end. In a sport where its not that inpossible for a driver to actually loose his life. And still they are out there.

Triggerwarning, don't read if you get emotional easy

I had someone telling me that he wishes for Carlos to die, and that his whole family should see it, and that he should have a long and horrible death, which should cause him a lot of pain because "this is what he deserves".

And this broke me. Because its F1. Because it could happen. And I wouldn't know what do if Carlos would actually loose his life, not to imagine his family... And there are people out there who actually put it into words. Its distrubing, alarming. And it leaves me helpless. What should I with messages like it? How can I stop it?

I got nightmares of any kind of drivers dieing because of stuff like this. Because people throw around words without thinking. Or maybe its my fault? Because I'm too attached to drivers? Maybe their death or those people shouldnt bother me?

If you dont feel like sharing this message (because it might be quite disturbing and I got carried away quite a lot, sorry for that) but still wanna answer me, you can call me "Jamie B." in your post and I will still know that you meant me and this message. I was gonna write you a DM but it feels better to stay anonym in this topic, or people might use this against me.

Trigger warning - the following text and also the ask above contains content that some may find disturbing. Please, read with care.

Seriously, anonym - I'm very glad you sent this message to me, because such things need to be talked about and not get ignored! It's so important to talk about this topic and not just look past it.

Yeah, I know I can call myself really happy to be around people who don't wish Carlos or any other driver any harm. Yes, not everyone of the people I follow/talk to support Carlos to 100%, but at least they all stay respectful and are grown up enough to know that you DON'T say duch things! NEVER EVER! ABOUT NO ONE!

Like I have said before, I really wasn't aware about that there are (still) so many people out there, that say stuff like that and even worse they also really mean the thoughtless things they say serious. Mostly because I block every account that comes past my way and is not respectful towards Carlos.

And like I have also said before, I have never seen such a hate post before, but hearing about the (anonym) message you have got gives me chills the worst possible way. This just can't be true, or?! I actually don't even know where to start here..

First of all, it's okay for me to send me anonym asks or requests for fics, but if you have to say something, if you want to tell someone your opinion then for fuck's sake have the damn balls to not send it anonym! I'm pretty sure most of those hate messages people receive are because of the damn anonymity of the internet. First those people are cowards in my eyes and second they really need to see a therapist for just thinking stuff like that, not even mention it to write them down, take their time to send it to someone and overall mean that also serious!

In what a sick world are we actually living to wish someone's (long, painful) death and also let his/her loved ones/family watch him/her dying!? How sick is that?!

Yes, Carlos had said/done some things in the past he shouldn't have and he could have at least apologized for it, but that still doesn't give you the right to wish him stuff like that! He is still only human, like you and me. No one, really no one deserves this!

And the thought that some people would really cheer in front of their TV, if something should ever happen to Carlos makes me really, really sick. Because like you have already said, anonym - stuff like that can happen so easily and quickly in this sport. Carlos or anyone else could really die out there! They could really lose their lives, for real!

I really want to know (no, I actually don't even want to know) what goes through those people's mind, what they are thinking when they write those words down. I mean, how would they feel, if they would read stuff like that about themselves somewhere on the internet from complete strangers (even worse, you don't even know their identity)? (God, I really hope Carlos won't ever have to read those kind of messages) How would they feel about that? What would those words make to them? Don't they see their loved ones/family in front of their inner eyes how they would react, if you would be the one passing away? Are they really so cold and heartless to not ask themselves those questions before sending those messages? Do they really don't think at all before? What's wrong with these people? Have they never received any love in their lives?

To your ask about what you should do - talk, talk about it! Talk with your family, friends or with me about it (also anonymous, it's totally alright if want to stay anonym in this case). Talking about it helps, believe me.

I can also call myself lucky once again, because I have never received such hate messages before (this will probably change after this post..),but if I would get any, I would publish them. Maybe I wouldn't respond anything, but I would want people to know about it, because it's not okay, it's actually the worst thing ever.

And maybe, but only maybe, those people will change their minds if they will read other people's thoughts on their death treats, maybe they will finally be able to understand that such things are unacceptable, that they finally need to educate themselves properly, grow up and finally start to be good.

But if you don't want to publish those messages or read any of their words anymore, you should better really deactivate anonym asks. It's really for your own good and mental health, because I can tell you are suffering a lot because of it.

And if I have understood you right here (God, I really hope I haven't) and you actually know the person who has told you this, then please stop any contact with that person, if he/she doesn't want to understand why this is the worst thing ever. Stay away from those people who aren't good for you and who obviously aren't happy with their own lives. You don't need them. You don't have to listen to their sick thoughts.

But please, don't search the problem by yourself - it's really not your fault at all. You can support/be a fan of whoever you want and there will always be people who disagree with you - which is actually okay - but what these people are doing is more than just sick. It's not your fault that people are like that, their problems are not on you.

I hope I could help you here a little, anonym - but don't ever forget, if things should become too much, please talk with someone about it or take a step back from social media.

And please, also don't ever forget - don't fight hate with hate!

Stay safe, anonym and enjoy the good things in life ❤️

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs,”Red Void.”

Hello everyone, I am back from my little vacation from writing. I am thinking about slowing down my story output just because I work now, but who knows if I actually will since I have the opportunity to write at work. Anyway I am back, and I hope you like the new story. 

A dark silhouette against a backdrop of red haze, dwarfed thousands of times by rising black monoliths ascending into the redness, fading before their tops could be seen. Feet clatter against the ground echoing thousands of times over and outward, never fading, but seeming to vanish into the haze as it is bounced repeatedly of the towering metal structures.

The metal monoliths are geometrical, made in almost perfect rectangles with sharp cutting edges.

They don’t look natural, though mother nature has been known to make stranger things.

Their size is shocking, towering many thousands of feet into the air, taller than skyscrapers, almost never ending, and packed together like a forest, or it would seem that way.

It is hard to gage distance in such a space. The towering walls and the pulsing red fog give the impression of being confined indoors: claustrophobic and pressing, though the monoliths don’t seem to move as the silhouette makes  its way towards them.

It walks for many minutes, its feet echoing a thousand times in space.

The monoliths seem to be a mile apart in some places though their daunting size and oppressive shadow still gives the impression that they are close, towering over and staring down at the wandering figure in the shadowy gloom.

More smoke rolls in, giving a strange greenish haze toone of the towers, and a blue haze to another.

The walking of the feet continue to echo upwards and outwards, for miles and miles.

It would be nearly impossible to sneak up on someone in this place.

A deep moaning seems to permeate the air, the creaking of metal as it shifts back and forth in the wind.

It is a sound of abandonment. 

It is a sound of loneliness.

A shrill screeching sound rises up through the mist and then fads back down again.

Fingernails on chalk, or metal on metal.

All to be taken back over by the distant moaning.

The Shining illumination of the star is barely visible through the dim haze. On occasions the mists part just enough to allow a stuttering beam of light to pass through, and roll over the ground again before disappearing.

Despite the noise.

The place is lonely, and desolate.

Footsteps continue to echo.

“Admiral, do you copy.” The voice inside his helmet seems distant and warped despite its objective clearness.

Little white lights inside his helmet reflect over his skin, while his headlamp attempts to cut through the fog, though it is like trying to cut through soup. Instead of a clean beam of light, there is simply a great halo of white light that illuminates the darkness around him, being of more hindrance than help in some cases.

He turners it off, finding it easier to see.

A wave of distant light passes down through the fog and caresses across the metal ground before fading.

Ground, or floor.

What is the difference.

Ground seems… more natural while the floor sticks out to him as being man made, though that is probably down to simple semantics.

His brain keeps wanting to call it a floor though, and the implications of that thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“Admiral, do you copy-”

The voice seems nervous and impatient, and he swears he can hear a warbling echo behind the words, though he knows it is just his nervous mind talking, conjuring ghosts in the darkness.

“I read you loud and clear, Omen.”

Simon sighs in relief and exasperation. SHe is in control of the ship while he is gone. He thinks it is good for her, though he knows other people are skeptical of her ability to lead.

Sometimes she has a habit of sticking to closely to the rules.

“I don’t see why you insisted on doing this yourself. It isn’t your job, and someone else could have easily done it.”

Not this argument again.

“Simon, I told you before, the day I stop doing field work is the day I shoot myself out the airlock. If anyone is going to go out here into dangerous situations, I would rather it be me than some member of my crew, and furthermore, there are plenty of people on the ship as capable, or maybe even MORE capable than me, at commanding, so stow the argument for the time being.”

His tirade is cut off as another deep echoing moan rolls up through his feet and rattles through his suit.

“Admiral, are you still there.”

Ah, one of the science Nerds.

“Yeah, still here. What can you make of the noise?”

‘Hard to tell, there are too many echoes and too much interference from the fog.”

“Can you tell what it is.”

“CO2 mostly, and we can’t identify the components in the smoke either. WHatever it is, it is all over the planet in a low concentration, but where you are it is VERY high. How about you, any luck getting closer to those monoliths.”

He looked upwards, at the dark and towering structure just visible as a silhouette through the mist, “Yeah, almost there. I thought I parked a bit closer, but this palace is so big it is messing with my sense of…. Space.” He could hear the slow rush of his own breathing inside the helmet, “Any luck on that video feed.” he wondered.’

“It's patchy as is the sound. We think you are close to some sort of magnetic interference, that is messing with your equipment.”

He toggled the heads up display inside his helmet and took a look at the atmospheric readings.

It is still detecting mostly C02, and a tiny bit of oxygen, though not nearly enough to sustain human life.

Other readings are coming up as well, mostly though, they indicated high presences of other unknown compounds -- likely whatever is making the smoke different colors.

There is absolutely no moisture here with a humidity at zero and a temperature that plunges dangerously low, to the point that this place would have been a tundra if there is any water to freeze. He supposed all of that added to the thundering echo that came up every time his feet hit the ground.

The air is thick here, and it is easier for sound to travel.

“This is quite extraordinary.” one of the scientists sats, “The geometric structures on the monoliths alone are…. well , incredible. Would it be too presumptive to guess that these are leftover from some sort of advanced alien civilisation.”

There is a grunt on the other end of the line, “Lets not get carried away with ourselves just yet.”

Adam grunts in agreement, “As cool as it would be to find the ruins of some ancient xeno civilisation, we can't rule out that there are just some really strange natural formations.

“Out of all the people here who wouldn’t immediately jump to ancient alien civilisation, my guess never would have been you, Admiral.

He lets out a short blast of air from his nose, “Yeah, I guess it is a bit out of character, but this place…. Well it seems strange and wrong. Has me kind of on edge.”

Another slow beam of light passes before him, like the rolling eye of a searchlight.

The thought makes him even more paranoid, giving him the feeling like he is being searched for or watched.

This is all going too slowly for his taste.

He toggles another link on his head up display and kicks the bottom of his boots to life.

The personal gravity generators whirr into being, and he feels himself float slightly off the floor.

He wobbles a bit before regaining his balance.

He kicks lightly at the round to send him floating forward across the floor. He continues to do this for some minutes, speeding up and heading even faster towards the monoliths.

The blackness grows deeper in his vision, until the haze is all but gone and he is looking up at one of the massive structures. It is so tall, he has to crane his head all the way back to even imagine seeing the top. It is very distant and obscured mostly by the red rolling fog, but, on occasion, a beam of light cuts through and he thinks he can see the top.

“Hos is my camera?” He asks, reaching forward with tentative fingers to press against the wall.

“Much better, admiral, what is the suit telling you.”

He glances at the readout on his helmet which is still doing an analysis, “I can’t really tell what it is, it looks like metal to me though it isn’t shiny. When I press on it It doesn’t give.”

He curls his other hand into a ball and raps on the side of the monolith hard with his knuckles. 

A clattering echo rolls out and upwards before vanishing into the fog.

He waits a few seconds hearing the distant echo as it is rattled back to him, “It feels and sounds like metal.”

A groaning sound rises up in the mist, haunting, like the moan of some gigantic beast. The sound sets his hair on edge, and he can feel it prickling on the back of his neck.

He knows it is probably an inorganic sound, but somehow it still puts him on edge.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder into the rolling fog, watching as beams of light pass over the ground in great rolling waves.

“Take a sample if you can.”

“Copy.”

He lets the radio go silent and turns over his right arm, popping a catch on his forearm that contains a small collection of scientific tools. He extracts a small drill bit and places it against the wall unholstering the sample gun from his right hip. His breath is loud in his own ears.

He places the tip of the bit directly against the metal face and pulls the trigger.

The sound that follows is absolutely horrifying.

The squeal of metal on metal roared upwards and outwards causing a rising shriek to echo about the chamber only to be repeated back a thousand times. He panics and lets the drill go silent wincing as he listens to the echoes roll back at him from across the vast and immeasurable space.

The way it echoes reminds him of the inside of a cathedral or temple: a palace where one is supposed to keep silent and reverent. He feels the same way here as if his mere presence and the sound he brings distrubed some sort of hallowed silence.

It feels wrong.

And he feels wrong for being here, knowing that no human steps had ever marred this hallowed place.

He is unwelcome.

He turns his head back to the wall as the echoes fade and rests his hand against the metal confused at first until he realises….. There is nothing there. He pulls back in surprise  and looks down at the drill head which is also unmarked.

It’s a diamond drill bit, so it should have at least chipped something off.

“Admiral?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what this stuff is, but I couldn’t even put a dent in it. I am going to try to find somewhere else, maybe where it isn’t so thick, like a corner or something.”

“Alright, admiral we have to warn you that we are sensing some sort of atmospheric shift, which is going to make the fog even worse for you, perhaps we should pull back so the radios-”

“No, it's alright. I have the tracking implant, so just keep an eye on that. If, for any reason you don’t have me on the line and I am in trouble, I will run in a zigzag pattern or some shit.”

They seem skeptical, but don’t argue with him. He is the Admiral after all.

He turns to the side and activates the gravity fields on his shoes again sliding silently through the mist while keeping to the side of the wall. He can feel how it towers oppressively overhead.

The scientists are right, the fog does seem to be getting thicker, mostly its a sort of hellish red, but there are spots where it seem to glow sapphire or emerald, not in the pretty way of the jewels mind you but dark and greasy like dye poured into a muddy river.

As the wind picks up, the distant moaning increases.

The sound brings up feelings of abandoned factories at night, with the shrieking and hissing metal cracking and popping at the joints as the wind pushes against it. Luckily he is no longer making any sound, and that makes him feel a little better. For some reason he doesn't want to be noticed.

The scientists said there was no indication of organic life on this planet.

They never said anything about inorganic life.

He shakes himself to rid his mind of the stupid thought. That was just ridiculous, and what did it even mean. Did he expect Megatron to pop out from behind one of these monoliths and yell boo. 

Maye they were right.

Maybe he did watch too many sci fi movies.

The fog continues to roll in until it seems there is nothing left but a vast wasteland of red smoke, and the towering wall to his side.

He must have been going for many minutes, and only realises that he has reached the corner when the shadow passes away behind him, and he is left standing in a haze of red. He backpedals quickly until he is standing in the shadow once more and takes a deep breath. He turns to the wall, to where the corner is.

He does not want to try again, but he can’t lie to the scientists, and redraws his drill placing the diamond edge right against the corner. The grinding noise is even more painful this time, a screeching howellike the lamenting of some ugly terrifying monster with metal joints.

He pulls away and shuts off the drill.

He can already see that it is no use.

He holsters the drill and quickly slides around the corner. He cannot shake the feeling of being watched, normally he would just try to ignore such a sensation, but Krill: logical straightforward scientific Krill seemed to think that there was some truth behind all of it, and, somehow, it made him feel uneasy.

He had made it a good ten minutes around the corner, deciding to pass over to another cluster of monoliths looking smaller than the first grouping had. Hopefully he would find something more promising.

He tries using his radio, but there seems to be no signal. All he could hear was the rushing static.

For a few disconcerting minutes, he finds himself wandering through a red abyss. Nothing but red above him, red around him, and the dark black ofthe metal below his feet. It doesn't feel real, but at the same time, It doesn't feel like a dream. After about fifteen minutes of steady movement, he feels the beginning of burgeoning panic.

Is he going to be stuck in this abyss forever?

No! He can’t think like that. He is going to be ok, it is just the quiet that is bothering him so much.

He thinks about turning on his music, but decides against it. Somehow, even that feels wrong.

He just needs a bit of stimulation.

So he starts humming to himself. 

After a while the hummed tones of the imperial march disassemble and morph into nothing more than a stilted discordant melody made up of nothing more than stitched harmonies and the occasional off key note.”

It doesn’t help him to relax.

Over the sound of his hustling, a distant sort of ringing echoes through the fog. He can’t describe the sound, much less pinpoint where it is coming from. He keeps going in a single direction, afraid of getting turned around in the endless abyss.

Another sound assails him just as he is reaching the center of the divide.

This is hard to describe too, but sends a wave of shivers down his spine.

Like someone turned up the base on a massive speaker, and then decided to play a single note. It vibrates the ground and causes his teeth to chatter inside his head.

He stops, floating above the ground for a few seconds as the noise continues.

A wave of light cuts past him to the right, and he turns to follow it, witnessing, just in time, as the curtain of red haze parts, and he is given his first unobstructed view of his surroundings.

He freezes on the spot eyes wide.

He stands in an open space between two long lines of monoliths as if he were standing in the middle of a city street which continues on before it curves over the horizon. The massive black monoliths aren’t perfectly uniform, some large and some squat, some thin and some quite large.

Those don’t surprise him.

Not as much as the ones that are floating.

He takes a step back and nearly loses his balance staring wide eyed at the scene laid out before him.

Massive black towers hundreds of feet tall, suspended above him and to the sides. Now he understands where the light is coming from, the light and the interference.

It comes from the moving of the floating monoliths.

Even as he watches,one of them passes slightly to the side allowing a beam of light to cut past it and down to the ground, skimming over the space before him before vanishing again as the monolith rocks back into place. The swirling mist is pushed and tugged by the large shapes undulating over the ground and occasionally being sucked into areas of lower pressure being caused by the moving of the monoliths.

This explained the radio interference.

He has no idea how those things manage to stay in place, at least until he notices the massie black cables acting as a tether for the massive structures.

These formations can’t be natural.

There’s no way…. It… 

It can’t

Their scans showed that there were no more lifeforms here…. unless … it was abandoned.

It does LOOK pretty abandoned to him.

He tries once more to contact the ship, but still gets no signal. He tries to rout it back to his shuttle, and the signal boost is a bit better. He isn’t receiving anything, but maybe he can get something out.

“Omen this is Admiral Vir. I have come across something strange that makes me think this palace…. Is not…. A natural formation. I see floating monoliths and wires, or cords that seem to be holding them in a palace. I think it might be magnetic which explains why our coms aren't working so well, or maybe it’s something else.

I am going to take a look further in, but send a group of marines into orbit, and have them head down if something goes wrong. Warning that the monoliths move, so I don’t know how close they will be able to get. Keep in orbit, but don’t come down…. I don’t trust this place..”

Now that he can see, if only partially, he moves faster through the mist, pushing himself along over the ground in swift sweeping motions. Little rims of light glow from the bottom of his boot and over the ground as he moves. He can go faster now that he can see where he is going, and he makes quick time as he sweeps towards one of the structures.

They are smaller here, and he feels like they would be more easily handled.

He is quick moving towards them, and disengages his gravity fields as he gets closer, dropping to the ground with a thud that echoes up and down the massive block.

Overhead one of the monoliths groans, and he looks up.

HE knows where the sound was coming from now, watching as two of the shapes scrape past each other shedding sparks.

The sound is horrendous, but it is soon gone.

 He cuts into one of the side alleys, the echoes of his feet a bit closer now, bouncing back to him from one of the walls.

He is walking down another nondescript thorofare when another echo reaches him.

An echo that makes his blood run cold and his bones turn to glass.

A whisper that seems to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Deus. 

[bluescarfvivi]

thats right vivi, he snapped. we snapped him and returned him to what he once was. And he was begging that other Lewis, screaming for him to stop. We know he wouldn't, and he didn't. So Splatter was beaten into the ground before he snapped, and we helped him. We all know how much of a monster splatter lewis is. All is correct in the world once more, a balance to light and darkness restored.

...so it was the grey faces....they encouraged him...

“....I’ve had it....I’ve had ENOUGH of you bastards instigating, causing this chaos, and for TRIGGERING THE ONE I LOVE INTO A DOWN SPIRAL OF RAGE!” 

“I’m FUCKING DONE! WITH YOU! FOR DISTRUBING MY TIME! FOR HURTING MY FAMILY! YOU WERE ASKING FOR POWER!?”

“THEN GET FUCKING WRECKED BY THE BLESSING OF MY ANCESTORS!!!!” 

The bat in hand glowed a violent bright blue. The air around its structure grew to frigid temperatures and with one heavy swing, Vivi SMASHED the ice-coated bat against the anon’s face! Bones broke, their stupid glasses flew off the handle, and their whole side broke into pieces. Crumbled parts rained to the ground like flecks of snow settling to the earth. 

She continued these hits until every last piece of the anon melted into the earth. 

They were GONE!