#The Veils Sun Gangs

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Audio: The Veils Share Atmospheric and Brooding "Undertow"

New Audio: The Veils Share Atmospheric and Brooding "Undertow" @TheVeils @MoraMayAgency

Though born in London, acclaimed singer/songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and frontman of The Veils, Finn Andrews spent his teenaged years attending high school in Auckland. Largely disinterested in school, Andrews spent the bulk of his free time playing in several bands — and writing the material that would later comprise The Veils full-length debut, 2004’s The Runaway Found. When he was 16, a…

[eskawrites]

all the raving about taylor swift ronance songs but there’s no traumatic grief fic set to epiphany??? hold my drink i’m gonna fix this

[cthulhusstepmom]

It's dark in the cellar, has been since they were tossed down here however many days ago. Hard to tell time without regular meals. Completely windowless, there's no place to spend his usual half hour basking under the sun. It had been a matter of hours before his coldblooded body had started to slow in the cool subterranean temperatures. He'd tried to keep it to himself, deal with it quietly, but there's no way to hide it from Gid, steadfast loyal Gid. Kremy had found his sluggish form gathered unceremoniously close to the living furnace that is his right hand man.

The heat may have stabilized his body temperature but it would do nothing to improve his mood(well maybe just a little bit it's hard to be too miserable when you're so nice and warm no matter the dire circumstances). Gideon took care of light well enough too, illuminating a circle around them with dancing warm firelight, though that was extinguished as soon as Kremy saw it start to waver and flicker, can't allow his partner in crime to burn himself out now can he? And so they sit in an almost peaceful silence, have done for who knows how long.

"Y'know it's not the worst bind we've gotten ourselves into. The gang will be along soon enough to bust down the door." Gid pauses in thought. "Probably not Twigsy. Or Frosty. Or Gricko unless he's a beasty. Probably down to Torbek to do the door busting come to think of it."

Kremy grunts noncommittally.

"Ah don't be like that, can't be worse than the time we had to climb out of the window of that inn."

"The snake oil heist on the western bank?"

"Nah the one with the innkeepers daughter, Felicity? Franny?"

He remembers that particular scrap well, if only because of the god awful wig.

"Felicia. How that veil covered my snout I will never rightly know."

Gideon snorts.

"Oh yeah. Sure would've been nice to know Gricko was an ordained minister before hand but it's not the first time we've been married."

Kremy hums. "Can't say it's the worst contract I've signed."

The warm body next to him rolls with deep, hearty laughter. The room goes silent for another spell before Kremy sighs.

"I dunno Gid, you ever get the feeling that we've taken it too far? Finally poked the bear that's gonna rip our throats out?"

"Nah man, I know you'll get us out of anything 'fore it gets too serious. Even if we end up knee deep in Fae tomfoolery. And I'll punch any bear that tries to bite us square in the body till it dies, no problemo." He pauses. "I trust you Kremy Lecroux."

That knocks the speech right off of his tongue.

Trust.

On a conceptual level he got that there was some form of reliance between the two of them, and sure some trust if you had to put a non-ironic label on it. He knows that Gideon cares for him, has stated it on many occasions in many different ways. And if you had to be so crass as to put it into words, of course he cares for Gid too, wouldn't have bothered keeping him around this long if he hadn't(lord knows the food bill would be enough to sway his opinion if he wasn't entirely too attached by now).

But trust?

Trusting Kremy Lecroux is a bad idea on any number of levels. He's a cheat by profession and a liar by lifestyle. Hell he's sold the souls of those around him in exchange for power more than once. There's nothing worth trusting in him, he's a coldblooded criminal and he's never gonna change, not for anybody. And here Gid is announcing it with his full chest. It's one of those things that's so endearing about him, he never holds back; Gideon Coal has never made a promise he doesn't fully mean. But since he's a man of contracts and business dealings he at least wants to give him a fair shot, a head start, a warning to keep that fiery heart close.

"You sure about that Gid? Those kinds of words have a power to em you know that."

"100% man, I'll follow you to the end of the world."

Kremy struggles to get air into his lungs, it takes a minute, two. When he finally gets enough to speak, it's frustrated and tinged with melancholy.

"Well I'll gladly let you do just that, if we ever get out of this fucking place."

"Hey." Kremy offers no response. "C'mon man don't be that way, the crew are all out there figuring their way in as we speak, fact I can smell the Torbek already."

He says nothing.

"I know what'll cheer you up."

A large, warm hand cups the bottom of his snout, gently directing his face up and to the side. Before he can think to protest, his eyes are drawn to the sudden lick of flame dancing on the tip of Gideon's finger. Not unlike when he lights cigarettes for him, except now he's pressing the pad of the digit to a small twig from the rocky floor until it smolders dully. Blowing on it, Gideon brings the small stick towards his face. It's warm but not uncomfortably so (he'd never had a doubt in his mind that Gid would hurt him). Carefully, precisely, with hands steady from working on the delicate innards of machines he can't begin to comprehend, Gideon draws the ashen tip of the stick across his upper lip in two swooping lines.

"There you already look more like yourself!" He proclaims proudly.

And god if he can't help the smile that breaks across his face.

"You're a crazy son of a bitch Gideon Coal, you know that?"

"Been told once or twice." he chuckles.

[imtrashraccoon]

Total Eclipse

Eclipse!Sans x OC

Eclipse!Sans belongs to @llamagoddessofficial and I am rather obsessed with them! I hope I captured them accurately but I couldn't help but wonder how they'd react to my OC.

Their design is based on art that @sparticus2000art created. I loved the first one the most so I hope you don't mind that I used it.

Background: This drabble is not canon to The Nightmare of Apathy and is a sort of "What if?" situation for whatever happens after the story ends.

All you really need to know to enjoy this is that the Reader was in a relationship with Nightmare and lives in his castle with the rest of the gang. The world is only lit up by the moon and the stars, thanks to Nightmare's influence.

Word Count: 1,959

You woke up alone, which wasn't too unusual in of itself. Still, you couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that Nightmare hadn't joined you this time. He'd been extra busy ever since forming a treaty with his brother but you'd hoped he'd take a break on his own. Now it seemed like you'd have to go bug him about getting proper rest, even though he always insisted that he didn't need to.

You crawled out of bed and pulled the curtains aside. Just like always, the world outside the castle was dark. Only the light from the stars and the moon could pierce through the veil, but you didn't mind as it was all you'd ever known. Well that wasn't entirely true since you'd visited a few other worlds by now. Despite how pretty it was, you didn't think you'd get used to how bright the sun was anytime soon.

To your surprise and shock, the moon looked...different.

Somehow, it had turned black although the edges also seemed to be glowing. It was so bright, that you couldn't bear to look at it for longer than a second.

What did this mean? Was the world in danger? You'd never heard of anything like this happening before, although there was one person who might.

With little care for your appearance, you threw on a robe and hurried through the castle to find Nightmare, but when he wasn't in any of his usual spots like his office or the library, you started to get worried. In your hurry, you nearly ran into Killer in the hallway but his quick reflexes kept the two of you from ending up on the floor in a heap.

"woah there, what's the hurry, angel?" he asked teasingly.

"Where is he?!" You were slightly out of breath and had to take a moment to recover. "Where's Nightmare?"

Killer hummed thoughtfully, "i actually haven't seen him in a while." He seemed to notice how concerned you were and the corners of his smile quirked up slightly. "what? is the world ending or something?" he asked with a chuckle.

You huffed and shot him a glare. "Maybe? The moon is completely messed up and I don't know where he is."

That seemed to catch his attention. "i'll go ask the others and see if they've heard anything."

You nodded and Killer shot you a wink before vanishing into mid-air. As irritating as he could be, you had to appreciate how serious he got when it counted. No wonder Nightmare trusted him with important jobs.

You continued to search the castle and were soon joined by Nightmare's other henchmen, but no matter how hard you looked, there was no trace of him. At some point, you happened to glance outside and noticed that there was somebody on the veranda. They were facing away so you couldn't really make out what they looked like beyond being a tall skeleton with pitch black bones.

Maybe you should've been more cautious about approaching the strange skeleton, especially with everything that had happened before the treaty, but the moment you stepped outside, you couldn't help but feel drawn to them. They just felt oddly familiar, like an old friend or loved one.

You only got about halfway across the veranda when they seemed to sense your presence. They turned quickly and the moment you made eye contact, you realized that despite what you had thought, you'd never seen them before.

They were much taller than you'd initially thought; easily pushing eight feet tall, making them taller than even Horror. While their bones were indeed black, they actually seemed to have a white glow, kind of similar to Dream. Their eyelights were mismatched, with the left being cyan while the right was gold, and there was a flared halo hovering around the top of their skull. You were also immediately struck with their intense aura that was reminiscent of both the god brothers. You could feel your eyes start to sting with tears that threatened to spill over and yet your soul nearly leapt for joy at the same time.

They wore an elegant black overcoat with white epaulettes, a flared collar, white buttons, a white sun motive on the lapels, and their tail coats had a white lining. Under the jacket, they had on a dress shirt with lace ruffles, high waisted black pants with buttons that matched the jacket's, and knee high boots with white accents.

"Who...? Who are you?" you asked cautiously.

They gave you an amused smile but said nothing at first and just continued watching you.

You frowned and took a step closer. They just seemed so familiar and you felt like you should know who they were. The more you stared up into their eyes, the stronger that feeling became. His facial bones vaguely resembled Nightmare's but maybe that was just because their left eyelight was the same colour.

Your eyes widened with the realization that this was why he hadn't been anywhere in the castle. What could've caused such an extreme change in appearance? Was this related to the moon?

"Nightmare?"

Their smile didn't falter and they just continued watching you, although you felt their already very intense aura flare up even more. You could feel the buzz of ecstasy in your veins and how your soul seemed to swell from the positivity.

It actually hurt.

You recoiled and quickly stepped back. While your body was nearly overwhelmed by emotions, your mind was relatively clear at the moment. You wished you had more control over your magic, especially for times like these, but at least you had some defense against this manipulation attempt.

This wasn't Nightmare. It couldn't be! He wasn't capable of inflicting positive emotions and he hadn't tried to influence your emotions at all since the beginning of your relationship. There was only one other person who could, and previously had, tried to do these things.

"Dream...?" you tried again, although your voice trembled as you spoke.

They blinked before the amused smiled finally faded a bit. They did vaguely resemble the god of positivity, especially with the whole inflicting positive feelings ability. The gold right eyelight did seem like the exact same shade as his as well.

"That is not my name anymore."

You could hardly believe your ears but their voice was exactly like Nightmare's, although it was the one he used when he was trying to intimidate mortals. It was nothing like the calm, velvety tone he used when you were alone together.

You couldn't keep yourself composed any longer and the tears that had threatened to burst earlier, now flowed freely down your cheeks. You didn't want to believe it, but you could see that something terrible had befallen your partner and it seemed like Dream was involved as well.

You felt their claws press into the skin around your jaw as they ever so gently tilted your head up to meet their gaze again. When had they gotten so close?

Even though your head was dwarfed by the size of their hands, they were so careful as they wiped your tears away with the tips of their claws. You didn't dare move in case they injured you with how sharp they were.

It felt like their eyelights could pierce through to your soul with how intensely they were gazing at you. Their aura felt a lot warmer all of the sudden too and your mind felt kind of fuzzy.

They began to stroke your hair in what felt like a reassuring way, although you felt shivers run down your spine every time their claws grazed your scalp. You had been in too much of a hurry to brush your hair earlier and their claws caught on the occasional knot every now and then, but they were careful not to tug on the individual strands too much at least.

"It's... It's alright to cry..." Their voice suddenly lowered mid-sentence until it was almost a whisper. It still didn't sound exactly like Nightmare's voice but it was eerily similar. "Would...a hug help you feel better?"

You swallowed and barely got out a "Yes" when they practically engulfed you in a warm embrace. Their bones were quite literally warm, much like Dream's were the few times you'd touched him, although you could sense that the temperature was actually from how much mana they had contained in their form than anything else.

You couldn't physically wrap your arms around them, so you settled for letting your hands rest on their chest instead. They didn't seem to mind in the slightest, although you thought you faintly heard a soft purr when you touched them.

They suddenly scooped you up in their arms as if you were nothing but a small child, causing you to gasp as your feet left the stone tiles. They held you close to their ribcage and pressed their teeth against your hair, as if mimicking a kiss.

"Dear little human... I'm sorry for causing you such distress."

You sniffled and buried your face into their shirt. Everything felt wrong and knowing that this entity wasn't Nightmare hurt so much.

"You're...a very special human. The last thing I want is to hurt you..." they purred.

"Do... Do you remember me...?"

They stilled for a moment before moving to sit down on a nearby bench and setting you in their lap. They resumed stroking your hair before even attempting to answer your question.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't remember someone I've never met." They moved one of their hands to your back and began to rub circles into your shoulders. "You're certainly familiar to me though."

You pulled back so you could look up at them again. "Night...what happened to you? Why do you look like this? I don't... I don't understand what's going on..."

"I'm not your Nightmare, not anymore," they answered. They paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to say next. "I'm not either of them anymore. This is...just the natural result..."

"But why?"

"It just is. I am the god of feelings, both positive and negative." They sighed and lightly caressed your cheek. "If it is of any comfort to you, they didn't plan for this to happen."

You took a deep breath. "Was it because of the truce?"

The edges of their permanent smile quirked up slightly but they said nothing. You weren't sure if that was a yes or no but you couldn't think of any other reason for the brothers to have accidentally merged into one body out of nowhere.

They let out a quiet chuckle and softly poked your nose. "He may not have always been able to say it, but he loved you so much. If you'll allow me, I would be happy to share the depths of his love with you sometime, dear."

You furrowed your eyebrows and glanced away from them. "I... I don't know... Does this mean you have their memories?"

They shook their skull ever so slightly. "Not quite, but I have their combined knowledge. Anything you could possibly want to know, I can explain."

"How about a name first?"

They practically beamed and quickly pressed their teeth against your forehead. "My name is Total Eclipse or, if you prefer, you can just call me Eclipse."

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the contact but quickly forced any emotions down for now. "My name is Aylin. It means 'moon halo' and, well..."

They let out a quick bark of laughter. "...'the one who belongs to the moon...' I think it's rather fitting."

"That's... That's actually almost exactly what he said when we first met..."

"I told you, I know everything that they knew..."

[capacle]

20 Brazilian TTRPGs I wish also existed in English

Today I offer you:

20 Brazilian TTRPGs I wish also existed in English (because I want the world to know about them)

Buckle up, because you won't BELIEVE the diversity of our indie scene.

[presented in no particular order, and only one per author]

1. Meu Brinquedo Preferido ('My favorite toy'), by Eduardo Caetano

A metaphor about a child's growing process by deconstructing their fears through playful situations.

2. SeanchaS, by Jorge Valpaços and Jefferson Neves

A game about myths, construction of identity and narrative around bonfires, about the time of ancient stories and the present time.

3. Gatunos, by Tiago Junges

A GMless/Solo game in which you play as cat thieves and mercenaries doing the dirty work of the five big factions that run the city.

4. Nômades (Nomads), by Marcelo Collar

A card-based RPG in which you play as beings who have the ability to find and pass through the cracks in the veil that separates the universes.

5. Infaernum, by Caio Romero

Create your own apocalypse while playing the game, and interpret characters who experience the last days of all things.

6. Áureos, Os Dançarinos da Lua ('The Moon Dancers'), by Rey Ooze

A game of fight and freedom where dice play capoeira. You play as an 'Áureo', a former slave who, in a fantastic colonial Brazil, receives the blessings of his Orisha to free his people from slavery.

7. Veridiana, by Alan Silva

You play as creatures that live in a large tree, embarking on a deeply sentimental journey in search of a cure.

8. Karyu Densetsu, by Thiago Rosa and Nina Bichara

A game inspired by action anime and manga, with tactical combat, philosophical conversation, and passionate ideals.

9. Imperia, by Jonny Garcia

A game of politics and intrigue in a medieval court, inspired by Game of Thrones. Create a kingdom collaboratively and assume the role of the most influential people in it.

10. Goddess save the Queen, by Carol Neves and Julio Matos

A pulp adventure game in which you play as secret agents of the British Crown during the interwar period, with their own agenda connected in some way with their home nation.

11. Abismo Infinito ('Infinite Abyss'), by John Bogéa

A narrative game of psychological horror in which the protagonists are astronauts, far away in space, involved in a web of lucid nightmares and manifestations of their own fears.

12. Mojubá, by Lucas Conti and Lucas Sampaio

An Afrofuturistic urban fantasy game inspired by Yoruba and Afro-Brazilian mythologies. Play as a person with fantastic powers who descends from the Orixás, fights evil spirits, and occasionally gets into a rap battle.

13. Chopstick, by Igor Moreno

A game inspired by action movies of oriental martial arts, gang fights and crime, with a twist on Fate Accelerated.

14. Contos do Galeão ('Tales of the Galleon'), by Encho Chagas

Create together the legend of a vessel that would have existed during the Golden Age of Piracy. Players will create the ship, its pirates, as well as its enemies, challenges, and rewards.

15. O Cordel do Reino do Sol Encantado ('The Cordel of the Kingdom of the Enchanted Sun'), by Pedro Borges

A narrative game set in the northeastern 'cangaço' region at the beginning of the 20th century.

16. Através das Trevas ('Through the Darkness'), by Ramon Mineiro

A post-apocalyptic fantasy game inspired by The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Witcher and Diablo.

17. Nihilo, by Andre Osna and Gustavo Rolanski

A world very much like our own—yet bigger, deeper, and stranger. Secret banks are run by Urban Dragons, Infernal mafias terrorize slums, interdimensional portals open in the basements of abandoned pizzerias.

18. Caçada ao Colosso ('Hunt for the Colossus'), by Jairo Borges Filho

Reenact stories such as Siegfried and the dragon Fafnir, the Greek Odyssey or legends centered on the opposition of two primary forces of humanity.

19. Perdidos ('Lost'), by Marcelo Paschoalin

Inspired by Bloodborne and Dark Souls, a world in ruins, fragmented to the point where only memories remain. You'll find relics of yesteryear, monstrous beasts, beings that have forgotten their purpose, and devious paths to tread.

20. Hitodama - A jornada das almas ('The Journey of the Souls'), by Alexsander Araujo

You are Shinigamis: creatures half divinity, half Yokai, who must carry out missions through different worlds, fighting formidable enemies and saving lost souls.

[miceysfandomcreations]

Dumping Astarion into Castlevania

I've recently finished Castlevania: Nocturne, and I have vampires on the brain. I'm surprised there aren't any more crossovers between BG3 and Castlevania. They both involve RPG vibes/mechanics, vaguely historical settings, and of course, vampires. I think if Astarion got dropped into Castlevania, particularly Nocturne, I think he'd have some fun interactions.

Anyway, here are my brainworms:

Let's place this story post-BG3. Astarion's level 12 and a vampire spawn on some level of the good to neutral spectrum. This is to keep him on some sort of equal level with the main characters (power-scaling between these works is so confusing). It would be interesting if he were a phantom rogue (I guess he skimmed The Necromancy of Thay). It's this ghostly rogue subclass that fits the gothic setting well.

Anyhoo, the story starts with Astarion (and Tav or Durge maybe) searching for a vampirism cure. This leads to him entering a temple about vampires. Rocks fall, he rolls a nat 1 on his dex save, and he enters a post-season 1 Nocturne world.

Astarion enters into a world of culture shock. Here, the vampires have won. There's no sun, he can walk outside 24/7. He is considered and respected as a full vampire. There are flavors and varieties of blood to drink. The eclipse has brought about vampire party time!

But his new brethren are wanton and cruel; they use humans as their pets and trample over the autonomy of those considered weaker. They worship some self-styled god that powers herself on sacrifices, and toys with her prey. Sound familiar?

Astarion tries some internal sabotage. He drives away or claims and frees the youngest victims. He shanks the nastiest (but not most powerful) vampires after luring them to isolated spaces. He swallows down his flashbacks, his disgust at himself when he does this.

His fellow vampires become suspicious of him. Astarion's forced to run. He runs and runs to the remotest areas, he subsists on the blood of animals once again.

One day, when Astarion has wrapped his mouth on the neck of a rabbit in a forest in France, he gets spotted.

"What the fuck." states Juste Belmont, who's being sick and tired of all these damn vampires around his damn hut.

Astarion manages to both explain himself and insult this murder-happy woods hermit at the same time. Juste points him toward the Nocturne gang, who's doing some plan to bring the sun back or something. Astarion remembers the feeling of the sun on his skin and decides to join.

"No point in depriving everyone else of something so sweet. Mark my words, old man, I will walk in the sun again."

Astarion somehow joins the gang that somehow doesn't go murderhobo on him at the first meeting.

I can see him becoming their spy on the inside, an intell gatherer who can freely rub elbows with vampires. No more disastrous human-only spy missions! Maybe he runs into Olrox at a fancy vampire mixer. Maybe Astarion gets reminded of his own vampire-nonvampire romance if he's with Tav. People reference historical events and Astarion has to pretend he knows what went on.

Astarion secretly thinks Alucard's the coolest guy ever (he's just like Drizzt for real), but acts all aloof around him. Having both done this save-the-world thing before, Astarion and Alucard gradually take parental/oldest sibling roles within the group.

Alucard: "I'm aware of sun veils, parasols, all sorts of innovations that allow vampires to walk in the daytime, albeit covered. How exactly did you manage that feat with no coverings at all? Magic?"

Astarion: "That's a long and complicated story. To put it succinctly, a giant squid-shaped ship abducted me one day and shoved a tadpole into my eye."

Things happen. Erzsebet gets defeated, Astarion reassures Maria and Tera that one can still have a fulfilling relationship with a loved one even after vampirism, and he leaves for his own world. There could be a scene where some powerful vampires offer him ultimate power, and tempt him to conquer Faerun under the Castlevania vampires' name. Astarion, having already gone through this ascendent nonsense once already, turns that down stat. He waves goodbye to his new friends. He walks back into Faerun's sunlight, the sunlight he must dodge again once more.

I don't think I'll make this into a full-fledged fic. Anyone is free to add on to this or make stuff based on it.

[cherryrainn]

Hi cherry, It's great to find another scooby doo writer fella here!

If it's not much trouble could I get shaggy rogers and scooby doo (platonic and from the Mistery Inc series, the one from 2007 I think) with a fem teen reader, like in her 12-13-14, that is part of the gang but is highly afraid of the dark?

Maybe the gang has to go through a dark tunnel and the reader is very scared so she turns to Shaggy and Scoob for comfort.

All fine if not though! Have a nice day! <3

YES YES YES!! i love mystery inc so much! thank you for the request <33

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— glimmers in the dark

shaggy and scoob x child reader

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the sprawling landscape, the mystery machine trundled down the winding road that led to hollow creek. the dense forest surrounding the town seemed to whisper secrets, its ancient trees stretching out like gnarled fingers, beckoning the curious souls forward. the air crackled with anticipation, carrying a sense of mystique and foreboding that wrapped around the gang like a second skin.

hollow creek, with its cobblestone streets and quaint cottages, appeared frozen in time. but beneath its picturesque facade, a veil of uncertainty hung heavy, shrouding the inhabitants in an enigmatic haze. the locals whispered tales of inexplicable phenomena that plagued their once peaceful haven: ghostly apparitions, vanishing objects, and unexplained noises echoing through the night. It was a place where the ordinary intertwined with the extraordinary, creating an aesthetic of eerie beauty.

as the gang stepped out of the mystery machine, your presence seemed to awaken the town from its slumber. the lamplights flickered to life, casting long shadows on the cobblestones, and the wind whispered secrets in your ears.

as night settled upon hollow creek, the town transformed into a dreamscape of ethereal beauty. softly glowing lanterns adorned the streets, their warm light casting gentle shadows upon the cobblestones. the moon, full and luminous, emerged from behind the wispy clouds, bathing the scene in an otherworldly glow. the air was laced with the scent of damp earth and the distant rustling of leaves, heightening the senses and sending tingles down spines.

the library was a sanctuary of knowledge and antiquity, its shelves lined with weathered books, their leather spines adorned with intricate golden filigree. sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting vibrant hues of crimson, sapphire, and emerald onto the worn wooden floor. dust particles danced in the sunbeam, creating an ethereal atmosphere of suspended time.

velma, her glasses glinting in the dim light, eagerly poured over crumbling manuscripts and delicate parchment scrolls. her nimble fingers traced faded inked lines, unraveling the secrets woven within the pages. ancient tomes whispered tales of forgotten rituals, mysterious disappearances, and long-lost legends.

daphne, with her resourceful spirit, scoured the library's hidden corners, pulling out drawers and flipping through the pages of faded newspapers. her fingers grazed delicate yellowed clippings, revealing headlines of inexplicable phenomena that had haunted the town for centuries. her determination led her to a hidden alcove, where an ancient tome lay tucked away like a forgotten treasure.

daphne opened the book, revealing a fold-out map that had remained untouched for generations. its yellowed edges crinkled as she carefully traced the faded markings. the map whispered of hidden passages and concealed chambers, leading to the heart of hollow creek's mysteries.

excitement surged through the group as the discovery unfolded before them. the map's delicate lines pointed towards a hidden tunnel, rumored to hold the answers they sought. but as you approached the entrance, a sense of trepidation washed over you, the darkness of the tunnel casting a foreboding shadow on your resolve.

turning to shaggy and scooby-doo, you expressed your fears, your voice laced with a mixture of anxiety and vulnerability. "i'm scared, i don't wanna go in. it's dark." you simply said, your voice shaking.

the duo looked at each other with understanding, their eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight, and shaggy's voice carried a soothing reassurance.

"like, we totally get it, y/n. dark places can be, like, really spooky, you know? but, uh, remember, we're in this together, and we haven't even gone in yet!" shaggy's voice quivered slightly, his empathy radiating from his lanky frame.

scooby-doo nodded in agreement, his expressive eyes filled with unwavering loyalty. "rhat's rrright!" he chimed in, his tail wagging ever so slightly, as if to provide a comforting presence.

the mouth of the cave welcomed you with a cool gust of air, as if exhaling its ancient secrets. you took a deep breath, the air tinged with the earthy scent of moss and anticipation. the gang, their wide eyes reflecting the dim light of the flashlight, stood beside you, their presence a reassuring anchor amidst the encroaching darkness.

stepping into the cave, the jaws of darkness eagerly closed behind you, swallowing the light as if it hungered for its warmth. shadows danced and flickered on the rough cave walls, their ethereal movements conjuring phantoms and specters that seemed to writhe and twist in the corner of your vision. the eerie silence was occasionally broken by the distant drip of water, echoing like whispered secrets through the subterranean labyrinth.

as you ventured deeper into the cave, the weight of the unknown pressed against your senses, causing your heart to quicken its pace. each beat reverberated through your chest, seemingly amplified by the vast expanse of the underground realm. the distant echoes of your footsteps mingled with the whispers of the cave, creating an eerie symphony that sent shivers down your spine.

shaggy's voice, though tinged with unease, cut through the darkness like a ray of light. "hey, y/n, you doin' okay? don't worry, we've faced scarier things than this! remember that time with the ugly ghost girl?" his attempt at levity brought a faint smile to your lips, reminding you of the countless adventures you had overcome together.

scooby-doo, his ears perked up, joined in with a reassuring bark, his tail wagging in solidarity. his presence was a comforting reminder that you were never truly alone in this eerie journey. the bond forged through countless mysteries became a lifeline, weaving a tapestry of courage that bolstered your resolve.

but as the tunnel stretched on, the darkness seemed to deepen, pressing against your senses like a suffocating weight. the whispers of fear crept closer, echoing in your mind, preying on vulnerabilities. doubt tugged at your footsteps, causing them to falter in the face of the unknown.

in the midst of your internal struggle, you, shaggy and scoob all found yourself behind fred, velma and daphne, you were no longer in the front.

you took a deep breath. steadying your trembling hand, you pressed forward, your steps resolute, guided by the collective strength of the gang.

"this place's even spookier than we imagined." shaggy's voice quivered, his words a testament to the palpable spookiness that filled the cave. the dim light reflected in his wide eyes, mirroring the apprehension that gripped your heart. but as he glanced at you, sensing the depth of your fear, his lanky frame straightened, a determination replacing his earlier slip.

"like, i didn't mean to make it sound scarier, y/n," shaggy stammered, his voice softer now, laced with empathy. "but hey, no worries, we totally got this! we've faced way creepier stuff before, remember the haunted amusement park?"

his attempt to allay your fears did not go unnoticed. you took a deep breath, your grip tightening on shaggy's arm, finding solace in his presence. his unwavering support, even in the face of his own fears, reminded you that strength could be found within the bonds of friendship.

scoob, sensing the tension, nodded in agreement, his tail tucked between his legs, a silent testament to his own apprehension. yet, despite his unease, he stood by your side, offering a steadfast companionship that warmed your heart.

as the tunnel curved and twisted, the darkness became an impenetrable veil, shrouding the path ahead in an eerie obscurity. every creak and echo magnified, playing a haunting symphony that danced with your imagination. but in the face of this mounting terror, you found solace in the shared fear that bound you, shaggy, and scooby-doo together.

you all pressed on, your footsteps cautious but resolute, each stride a testament to the unyielding spirit that propelled you forward. just as despair threatened to take hold of you, a faint glimmer of light pierced through the darkness, a beacon of hope drawing you closer. with each step, the intensity of fear gradually waned, replaced by a rising tide of anticipation that surged through your veins. the light grew brighter, casting ethereal hues of gold and amber upon the tunnel walls, as if nature itself celebrated your progress.

finally, the trail led the team to a massive stone door, its surface adorned with intricate carvings that spoke of the secrets held within hollow creek. the carvings seemed to breathe, their stories unfolding in a symphony of artistry and mystery. it was clear that this door held the answers they had relentlessly pursued, but opening it would require more than mere strength—it demanded the unraveling of a complex riddle.

velma, her intellectual prowess in full display, analyzed the carvings with unwavering focus. her eyes scanned the symbols, her mind connecting the dots with rapid precision. "to reveal the truth," she began, her voice resonating with confidence and purpose, "we must embrace the light within and face the shadows of our fears."

with velma's revelation, the stone door creaked open, its ancient hinges protesting the passage of time. the heavy slab yielded to your collective will, revealing a hidden chamber awash in a gentle, otherworldly glow. the soft light spilled forth, casting a serene ambiance upon the room, and as you stepped inside, the mural adorning the chamber walls greeted you.

fred's voice resonated with a mix of awe and determination, the weight of the discoveries settling upon the group like a mantle of responsibility. his eyes widened, reflecting the magnitude of the secret that hollow creek had guarded for so long. "so, this is what it's all been about," he said, his words carrying the weight of realization. "hollow creek has been guarding a secret that could change everything."

the gang stood together, your gazes fixed upon the mural that revealed the hidden truths. a sense of accomplishment radiated through the chamber, as each member of the gang absorbed the revelations before them. the tangled web of mysteries and conspiracies that had plagued the town was finally unraveling, and the truth now lay within your grasp.

yet, as a foreboding tremor coursed through the chamber, the atmosphere shifted once more. shadows twisted and writhed, their very essence taking on a menacing presence. it was evident that someone or something did not want the secrets of hollow creek to be exposed to the light.

in that moment of uncertainty, fred stepped forward, his voice commanding attention. his words carried the weight of determination, cutting through the tension that hung in the air. "listen up, gang! we've come way too far to back down now," he declared, his eyes flickering with unwavering resolve. "we'll face whatever's waiting for us together."

a surge of solidarity coursed through you all as you readied themselves for the final confrontation. the shadows loomed, their sinister forms threatening to consume the chamber. but in the face of adversity, the gang stood united, drawing strength from your unbreakable bond. shaggy and scooby-doo, in particular, exuded a bravery fueled by loyalty, their unwavering support an anchor in the storm.

the adventure had tested your bravery and resilience, taking you on a rollercoaster of emotions. through every twist and turn, the bond between you and your friends had grown stronger, a testament to the power of true friendship. even in the darkest moments, your unity radiated like a beacon, illuminating the path ahead.

together, you took another step forward, the darkness no longer quite as foreboding. with shaggy and scooby-doo close beside you, their presence like a shield against the encroaching fears, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had the strength and support to face it head-on.

[groovygladiatorsheep]

❝ A lady with a heart of stone. ❞

♫ Lady Sicilia Oath ! Inspired by an old child of mine.. An Horror x Fell child, your honour.

✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♫ Credits.

Mafia belongs to ???

Horror belongs to @/horrortalecomic

✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩♬ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♫ Info.

- lives amongst a mafia gang

- even if she’s young, she’s already very intimidating.

- Veil is to protect her face from the sun as her health is fragile !

[1000punks]

bonding. //the playlist

for the folks who want something to listen to while you read bonding., here are some of the songs that i felt fit the fic. ♡

if you want a detailed reason/analysis (song-by song) head under the cut. otherwise, enjoy. and thank you to everyone who supports this fic!

after midnight - wayv this song is all about the baser/physical aspects of intimacy, it's night-based, and it talks a lot about secrets and desires. my favorite line is: that someone's scent and someone's secret, someone's scent breaks the gap between each other - which i'm sure sounds more eloquent in chinese. (translation here!)

the summoning - sleep token i know this is the "token astarion thirst trap song" but i think i particularly like the lines: raise me up again, take me past the edge, i want to see the other side. new life, pushing boundaries in a healthy way.

rain - sleep token favorite lines: and i don't wanna get in your way but i finally think i can say that the vicious cycle was over the moment you smiled at me - nuff said.

hell above - pierce the veil cannot spend another night in this home i close my eyes and take a breath real slow the consequence is if i leave, I'm alone but what's the difference when you beg for love? this song is very astarion to me, i feel like it's reminiscent of his escape/kidnapping at the very beginning of the game, as well as that first sexual encounter.

first light - hozier another token astarion song! festé, to me, is very sun-coded. and i think this would be astarion's way of saying that he didn't know things could be this good before that damned imp walked unceremoniously into his life.

haunted - type o negative this part: a living flame, impossible to resist; burning me deep with every bite, kiss and lick. astarion's thirst, and the effect festé's blood and body seems to have on him. also, the way he can't figure them out even though they're very up-front about the things they say and do.

sexual healing - marvin gaye, kygo this one is pretty obvious but!

mother may i - coheed & cambria i wanted to grab this one as a nod to one of astarion's voice lines. but this line: god only knows when your word isn't pure, and the blood on your hands isn't yours screams to astarion's guilt for manipulating them. oopsie

boy division - my chemical romance this line: i buy my enemies rope to hang me and the knives to gang me; you can watch them stab me on your television referring to astarion feeling like he was complicit in his own trauma, and the anger that goes along with that. also the coffin part (:'D)

vampires will never hurt you - my chemical romance can you take this spike? will it wash away this jet black feeling? i think, deep down, he feels guilty for having to feed on them, and in general, being the way that he is. of course, they accept him fully but he doesn't accept that, not at the start. also heehoo vampire song

please please please let me get what i want - deftones good times for a change that's it, post. no but this version of this song to me speaks desire, not just melancholy and longing like the smiths (i honestly hate the smiths). deftones brought a more "feral" quality to this cover that i really like.

vore - sleep token your flesh and bone welcome me in, welcome me in are you in pain like i am? will we remain stuck in the throat of gods? will the pain stop if we go deeper? this one is for both of them, honestly. that moment where you realize that, emotionally and physically, you're in too deep with someone to quit, to cut things off.

irresistible - fall out boy this is just for the bdsm elements HAH. no but this entire song, i don't know why it fits them both exactly, but it does. the way they both go through the absolute worst trauma (both apart and together) and can still mostly laugh, shrug, make love, and keep on living.

w.a.m.s. - fall out boy my head's in heaven, my soles are in hell let's meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well on astarion's side, it's a song about feeling like he's the sum of his past deeds. on festé's, it's a song about meeting in the middle and being physically present.

big iron - marty robbins this... lmfao. i was listening to spotify on shuffle and i was like this is so... unserious. festé would love this song. but this (and the wanderer) point to the many adventures they've had before they met astarion. and how they're generally a judicious and "good" person.

the wanderer - dion festé slept around a lot before this, and on the surface, they might seem like a ripple on the water. moving around a lot, having lots of sexual conquests, etc. for as short as their life has been relative to astarion's, they've certainly lived a lot. he's changed them though, they want to stay in one place now.

drowning - radio company this is more under the surface with festé. i feel like if they were here in modern times, they would love folk and americana music. they may look like a thembo, but underneath that, they're emotionally complex and actually quite guarded. specifically this line: hold the day oh we pray to make it through the night i think would have been a hard-hitter in the very end of the netherbrain conflict. they were trying really hard to hold it together for the sake of everyone else, and that's something they really struggle with emotionally; feeling like the world rests on their shoulders.

forever ain't long - radio company take me to heaven or wherever you're from back where it started before the hurt came along this is love, plain and simple, from festé to astarion. it also hints at something they're going to go through in a much later chapter in the fic.

undisclosed desires - muse i listened to this a lot when i was writing //taking. festé is the type of top/dom that intensely cares about whoever it is that they're sleeping with. they're a service top, plain and simple. luckily, they're pretty forthcoming with how they approach topping someone else, though. they want to find exactly what the other person needs, and provide it. i know you've suffered but i don't want you to hide it's cold and loveless i won't let you be denied

coming of age ceremony - hyolyn, xia this song was another one i listened to a lot during //taking. it's about coming into a different role. it's the switch song. hahah it's actually a cover! i think the duet makes it really... sensual. give me twenty stems of roses so i can feel your love is a BAR. 20 roses is symbolic of sincerity and a deep belief in something, so i thought it fit well with the theme of commitment and exploration. (translation here!)

i'll keep you safe - sagun it's really simple, it's a lofi song. does what it says on the can. i imagine it being the background song to the two of them drifting off to sleep in each others' arms, as cheesy as that sounds. they haven't spent a night apart since act 2, give them a break.

tell it to my heart - meduza, hozier this is the song that plays in astarion's head whenever he gets really down on himself. i don't know that he'll ever truly believe he deserves someone like festé, and this is the little voice in his head confirming that. it alludes to him tending to misread situations that are actually innocent, which i think is something a lot of people who have trauma can relate to - jumping to the worst conclusions. what he doesn't know that deep down, they feel the same way.

it's not a side effect of the cocaine, i am thinking it must be love - fall out boy put your hand between an aching head and an aching world we'll make them so jealous we'll make them hate us those moments where astarion is trapped in his memories and he feels his imp touching him and grounding him back in the moment? yeah, i think of this line. they both want to show the other off, they're both so proud of each other and so DISGUSTINGLY in love.

[dandelion-wings]

ETA: Now available on AO3.

---

Katheryne is sorting out the stack of new commissions when Kaeya appears at her booth. He leans in, bracing his elbow on the counter, and smiles at her with deceptive friendliness. Despite the affable look, his gaze is sharp.

"Katheryne, what a pleasure to see you. I don't suppose Royce has been by today?"

"Yes, just an hour ago. He wanted to withdraw from your adventure team and put himself back in independent status."

"Benny's Adventure Team," Kaeya corrects, straightening up from the counter. "So he's quit too, has he? What a shame."

"It is," Katheryne agrees.

She doesn't bother to point out that this brings them back down below the minimum numbers required for a registered adventuring team. Kaeya knows that by now, and besides, Katheryne hasn't enforced that rule against the two of them for years. Her programming only permits kindness when it won't interfere with the Guild's operations; she'd lined up the chain of logic to justify this one long ago. Anything that might encourage Bennett to join another, more effective team instead of running his own would interfere far more with the Guild's operations than a minor violation of the rules.

Now, Kaeya on his own would be an asset to any team on her books. But he would never join one without Bennett, and that would negate any advantage his presence might provide. So Benny's Adventure Team stays registered, despite consisting of only its eternally optimistic leader and his loyal second-in-command for approximately 84.6% of its operating uptime.

"I wonder how Royce will fare as an independent adventurer," Kaeya murmurs. He's pulled a Mora from his pocket and is flipping it in his hand, watching the coin as if he needs to focus on his trick to pull it off. Katheryne has too much observational data about the fidget to believe that it actually needs his attention at this point.

"While his records suggest he'll be mediocre to adequate, overall, I expect he'll find himself facing some difficulties as he adjusts to independent work," Katheryne says. "Possibly he'll be treed by a gang of hilichurls, given recent trends."

"He's made enough complaints about Bennett's bad luck that I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out some's rubbed off," Kaeya says, still watching his coin. "I doubt it will be hilichurls this time, though. That might suggest a pattern."

"Hilichurls are capable of repeating effective tactics, but it would be strange if they consistently used the same ones only on adventurers who have recently left Bennett's team," Katheryne agrees.

"No, I'm sure if he trips up, it will be due to some other misfortune. We'll see how it goes." Kaeya flips the coin one more time, the golden Mora glinting in the sun as it's launched in an especially high arc, and then snatches it out of the air as it descends and tucks it away into his jacket. "Any commissions that might suit a two-man team? I need something to cheer Bennett up."

Katheryne ruffles the edges of the stack and pulls out a particular sheet of paper. "I expected you earlier. I already have something for you."

"Efficient as always." This time, when Kaeya smiles at her, the sharp edges are thoroughly veiled. "I don't know what the Guild would do without you."

"I'm only doing my job," Katheryne tells him, but she dials up her own smile by 8% as she launches into an overview of the commission she'd had in mind.

[orangetubor]

OOOH WHAT'S THE POP CULTURE LIKE?? Any common references?? ALSO TELL ME ABOUT THE MUSIC WORLD!! I'm very curious.

Well, to get the background, we need to understand what we brought with us. Sailor moon, Marvin the Martian, star trek, wolf 359, star wars everything space sci-fi or fantasy! We wrote about this place and now we're in it!

And as for what we found: glass domes, blue suns, vast desserts, a mountain so tall it breaks the atmosphere, broken down robots, sand storms, and two moons that will eventually drift away from and crash into us. But we have four million years before that happens, don't we? So let's enjoy the view

The music is wild: a thousand genres, some as old as Chinese opera, some as new as astruca pop. It's all new wave if you think about it, a new era of humanity. There's a lot of synth.

Astruca pop is founded on the concept of 'we are in love with the stars, and we sing about it' upbeat pop, things like 'messages from the stars' and the likes. Themes of celestial bodies, relationships, and insane amounts of synth.

Other genres are not yet named. I've mainly been focusing on the fashion if I'm honest. But here's another space themed one: it has a lot of vocalisations, wacky instruments, and lyrics about how in the vast expanse of space we are alone. Kind of outdated since we discovered aliens. Like... imagine listening to some song about how we are unique in our sentience meanwhile your nextdoor neighbour is a 7'1, six armed alien, from a planet in the neighboring solar system. Embarrassing.

As for media, there's a show called 'mandy mystery' it's a teen girl solves mysteries type show. Similar to Sally Bollywood. Does anyone remember that? Idk. There's also one called 'star racers' you're getting the star theme right. It's like five guys and they all have names like 'red moon' and 'black saturn' cuz. It's space themed who cares. They're drag racers. They wear funny little outfits and pose on top of cars. A lot of these were made up for so I could design group Halloween costumes for the gang. There's probably more shows than that. I just haven't thought of them yet.

Sports is really popular too, low gravity leads to muscle atrophy so you gotta stay active, (god ain't it awful) so there's lots of parks, sports places, etc. So fun ways of getting around are also popular, roller skating, cycling, skate board, they're going places on wheels. Absolutely insane.

And fashion magazines! There's tons, mostly for nouveau futurism, retro futurism, stellar dessert, and random other shit that I haven't named it. They like cowboys too. Astral outback my beloved. There's also thing like 'elegano frill' which is based around black undergarments and white lace/chiffon things, focused on unique silhouettes and fancy hairstyles, it's seen at a lot of weddings. Its counterpart, jangle frill, is much less refined. Seen at concerts, there's the black undergarments again, but this time the veil things are less layers, and are lined with tassels! The hair is much more droopy and more colours! The songs performed are generally made with the jangle of the audience in mind, completing the song.

That's pretty much all I got. Theres a musician called 'vallicent' I'm pretty sure. One called Xiro. Various others.

[kidelune]

TW: Mature themes, death, violence, blood, all that jazz. Read at your own discretion.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull. And tongues useless.

featuring @chenosias

[August 29, 2023, location: confidential]

The basement is a fleeting nightmare you enter with your conscience and cognition far detached from yourself. And as you ascend to the surface again, everything you've seen and heard below, unless significant in any way above, stays behind on the backdoor's threshold. These were the rules for as long as Kijun could remember, an onslaught of repeated relays to you in the car on the way; and really, of such importance they were that everyone who dared come and go here were adamant on the notion of colouring within the lines of this rule. At least if you wanted to keep your head.

Valuing his sleep and sanity, Kijun never dared bring even a toe overline and nevertheless, he couldn't ever truly get accustomed with the unseeing nor the forgetting. But coming here had sometimes been a necessary part of his job as a mediator, and given how seriously he took mediating, he'd eventually taught himself brute force and found enjoyment within the process of tricking his mind with the pleasure of pulling teeth. Thus forcing himself apart from lesser men that cowered, while mitigating some the guilt that often came with memories and dreams.

This they called bravery or balls, and said that if you did it enough times a numb void would become of your heart, as his did—a silence that he could never return noise to again. It grew like a tumor, held his heart hostage and made his work easy, much like a basement in and of itself, for many years of reflex. But for how long could the heart remain obscured and content in the dark?

Car tires come to a screeching stop in front of a plain-looking duplex residence, unobtrusively sitting between two others alike and in an alley so narrow it can only fit one car at a time. Behind the veil of tinted windows, it appears as some sort of anomalous, jagged figure bled into reality by helter-skelter shadows and the sun. Off it wafts the unease of staring into a void you can sense is bottomless. Yet that's all it takes—one glance as a flicker of the switch inside Kijun's heart. It retreats into the darkness with one final warning from the driver, before the car door unlocks for his emptied ribcage.

Expectedly, Yunho is the first to greet him on the way in through the backdoor, which extends to a naturally lit alcove preceding one of the empty living areas. As it is outside, the abode's pale bowels are cold and barren as a wasteland; made in plain sight that this was, after all, not a home made for living. After all these years, eerily, it hasn't changed.

"Glad you decided to show up, kid, even though you're recovering. Didn't sound like you would over the phone back then."

"Sure. Is it just us?" Asks Kijun blandly, as he tightens his signature leather jacket around himself and discards the memory of his initial hesitance. And drawing the blade tucked against his ribcage that much more within reach.

Yunho, perpetually amused and properly clad in his formal suit, extends an arm within the general direction of the basement's entrance somewhere down the right hall. "Everyone else's downstairs."

Lead by his stare alone, Kijun follows.

Two men are on standby on each side of the doorframe, and the two bow with a fleeting stiffness when they approach, their neat black suits creasing and dimpling through the motion. Used to gang formalities, Kijun keeps his head up and his scowl tightly chained across his features, his guard so high it heats his blood and draws pinpricks up to the back of his neck. Neither of them return the favour on the way in.

Soon to be discoverd below is what Yunho meant by everyone, being just the two of them and the other men that belonged here in the undigestible stiffness of the basement, rendered to inconsequential heaps by lack of light—at least for now. There are precisely two of them as well, suspended upside down on thick ropes and stagnant time by their ankles, tied wrists reaching for the floor. Like slaughter hung up to dry.

When Yunho flickers on the basement lights, irrefutable proof of days spent without a meal or much water lay palpable between concave abdomens and protruding ribs. Bruises and dried blood tell tales of long and painful beatings on either side.

The one on the far left is slightly larger, his fingers seeming to have grown swollen and purple with shatter and then neglect. Kijun, who's completely unphased by the tableau in front of him, wonders if the broken bones were a just punishment administered after an attempt at escaping. Remembers how often it had to be done before—how many times he'd partaken in the beatings himself.

After all, if given the chance, dogs on tight leashes often bite their way to freedom.

Noticing Kijun's fixed stare, Yunho chimes in from the side, "That one on the left'd almost killed you last week," He says, "But this one's your guy. Caught him sneakin' around the club on Sunday and apparently, he knows plenty. Here—"

A bucket of water Kijun knows is ice-cold immediately follows the smooth voice pouring over his shoulder, which is almost caught amidst the sudden deluge were it not for his reflexes. The water splashes as intended onto the target body hanging on the room's right, resurrecting him from a deathly stillness with some seconds of vigorous floundering. He's alive.

This is Kim Woosik, Yunho had informed Kijun on the phone earlier in the week, while extending his invitation to this questioning. Woosik'd been working undercover as a messenger for the Green Gang leader for a while, recovering and buying information from accomplices working in the club. Their job this morning was to find out just how much he knew, and who, exactly, it was that told. If there was one thing Kijun was good at, it was carving out rats with only his tongue. Then his knife.

"Kim Woosik," Kijun calls out as he finally tunes into his other self, merciless and unforgiving if he'd ever seen it. The heavy bass in his tone passes and reverberates across the damp walls and limbs with a commandeering urgency, Woosik immediately stopping his squirming to listen as he no doubt hears nearing footsteps in the echoes, then feels Kijun's presence when he crouches down by his head.

In this moment, everything happening outside the two of them ceases to exist, Yunho's lighthearted warning not to break him too soon falling upon deafened ears. This place was made for breaking, and breaking alone.

Kijun rips the soaked sack off Woosik's head to begin, and—briefly freezes. Met with two eyes he instantly recognizes, all bloodshot and reflecting shock and the vivid memory of mourning staring back up at him, Kijun feels icy blood and dread rushing up to the back of his skull. Has to quickly war confusion off his brows by aggressively ripping the piece of duct tape off Woosik's mouth. The latter screams as his dry lips split red, alive. He should be dead. I saw you die.

"Who the fuck are you?" Demands Kijun from the ghost turned rat, overtaken by a surge fury so profound it tears and shreds through him thoroughly enough to quickly become all he can feel.

But nonetheless, Woosik smiles a dangerous smile, like he knew all along that this day would come. Spits blood and teeth at Kijun and earns himself a square punch in the face—the sheer force of that singular blow so hard it cracks and skews Woosik's nose completely. It also throws him off balance, erratically swaying on the rope as the walls reflect broken moans and convulsions that can't be muffled by hands. Neither should they exist today, to begin with.

Kijun figures he'd question Yunho later in favour of satisfying his current rage instead. Grips onto Woosik's hair hard enough to sting the scalp bloody, too, and spits, "You fuckin' traitor."

"You fuckin' idiots. Yeah, it's me." Woosik chokes on every syllable he can't grind out without hurting himself, tongue too large in his mouth in this position and agony. But his eyes—oh, how the fire never falters. "Y'thought I'd ac'ually go and die for that greedy fuckin' bastard y'call a boss? Fuck 'ou— I'd rather be a traitor than a fuckin' dead on this turf."

A violent silence ensues at this, lasting only a few laboured breaths from the hanging men, but enough for everyone to feel it's onslaught ten times over. Kijun stands with it, shoving the head in his grip away from him with harsh dismissal. Takes a few extra moments thereafter to produce a smoke from his pocket and light it up, then another, for him to gather some manner of composure back into his voice, in spite of the fires that are laying waste to his insides. Blood, fresh from his split lip soaks into the circumference of the cigarette.

He stars over, while effortless, long strides bring him around this Woosik far too quickly for the other to keep up with, "So, that's why you decided to fake your own death to get out? Just so you could go die for another greedy fuckin' bastard? S'that it, Jung Hyungmin?"

The name tastes filthy and bitter on his tongue; not because he cared that much about Hyungmin's loyalty. Until this day, Jung Hyungmin was supposed to be simply a good friend from the past; someone Kijun had known well since they were seventeen and nineteen. And most importantly of all, he was supposed to be dead. Yet no matter how hard Kijun tried and tried again, life then knocked on his door and proved itself a force he could only bend when it came to his own death.

He had wondered what Yunho meant when he'd said on call, nowadays, we can't even trust death to do it's job. Now he knows; the explanation being a bloodied nose, ugly stabbing scars Kijun recalls stitching openly stretching across the length of his spine and abdomen, and a snake tattoo etched into his inner bicep. Green Gang.

"Yes, Kijun. Y'd be surprised t'know how many have done the same shit. People get sick of bein' manipulated to fuckin' hell, from bein' lied to practically all the time and worked literally to death for personal gain. I didn't choose this life t'be someone's fuckin' toy, and neither did you."

Kijun sneers, though he's merely playing along now after having detached himself from the past, "You know nothing about me. And I ain't surprised at all. Found that informant of yours at the club—works as one of my boys. He told me as much." He crouches next to Woosik again, this time bringing with him a confident lie and the blade he had sheathed under his jacket. Before Woosik can find the strength to surge forth, Kijun brings the tip of the knife up to the base of his throat. Smiles the smile of someone who knows.

"That's before I cut his fuckin' tongue out'ta his mouth, 'course. Future proof problem solved."

Maybe it's because he's wet, starved, desperate and upside down, because the lie connects immediately. Woosik is suddenly reduced to an eerie stillness again, his toes so white it must feel like death slowly encroaching into his skull. His mouth becomes a thin line, his eyes a thousand slices through Kijun's flesh. The latter doesn't mind.

"There it is, Yunho hyung. The truth." Lifting off again, this time off the air off success, the blade follows Kijun's generous height all the way up to Woosik's abdomen. Aimed precisely where Kijun knows his vitals are. "He knows it."

"Yes, and we only need a name."

"Fuck—y'selfish fuckin' bastards. Cut out my tongue. 'm not givin' y'all jackshi—" But Yunho shoves the water bucket under his head before he can finish disagreeing, the implication of it becoming all the more horrific when Kijun brings the sharp end of his blade back to the tender flesh at his throat. Tuning his stare downwards, he recalls how Hyungmin had been many things, but a hero had never one of them. "Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay I'll fuckin' tell you! Jus' don't—"

If anything, he was always just another traitorous coward.

"Then spit it out, bitch."

"K—Kim Namseong. He knows everything."

/

[September 2, 2023, location: confidential. / ft @chenosias]

"Now, let us pray."

Two ancient hands raise skyward in avid calling of the holy spirit. Summoned along with them are long, white robes of cotton, suspended properly by gleaming, silver cuffs, and at opposite end, presumably God in the action of thousands of feet stomping upright in the pews, hands joining. Kijun checks his watch and notes that it's been about an hour since the church hall had become fully occupied, with both him and Osias included in the mix, at whichever God's mercy. The prayer drawls on without his own participation, though wholly embraced by his searching gaze.

The pastor remained as he always remembered him; an old, hunch-backed mausoleum of sin and holy nightmares. And perpetually equipped with a frown that always haunted his face, provoking unease at rest. To the others around them, he may be a devout zealot and Messiah, drawing garbs of cotton, modest silver and a large crucifix around his neck, blessed directly by the God they pray so heartfully to. But all Kijun sees is a crook in a suit and tie, well tucked beneath a hard mask like a second skin. He was a cartel knave at heart and he was good at being so. As was Kijun, though.

In the pew next to him sits Osias, dark, brushstroke brows shifting and settling repeatedly to and fro on his face. He carries curiosity on his sleeve; catching details in the crowd ahead no average joe would ever see, then releases them with the occasional stray nudge or remark into Kijun's shoulder. Watching and listening to him quickly becomes half of Kijun's mind, counting freckles like stars whenever the hall erupts into drab musical bumps and leaves him only with long, black coils and a perfectly smooth, tan cheekbones.

The moment Osias finds the truth in backhanded preachings from the pulpit, though, by way those eyes skew dark brown and stare sidelong with did he just fuckin' say what I thought he just said? on the tip of his tongue, Kijun figures he'd done well by rejecting Yunho's company and bringing Osias instead. The growing glint in them susses out philosophy and cartel poetry he's probably heard many times before, both in Korea and America, the realization doing something most glorious to his handsome features that Kijun, satisfied and amused beyond imagination, would never forget.

Never trust the preachings of a gangster priest. Presses his elbow to the one beside him and murmurs blasphemy through repeated worship, all to be occasionally shushed by the grandmas sitting behind them.

But they steadily lose interest as the service itself ultimately has no place in their itinerary tonight. The person they're actually here for stands five pews ahead with his fingers crossed and eyes closed. In worn hoodie and jeans he appeared as benign as it got, far from the clandestine chamber of secrets he actually was. What would a man like that pray for, wonders Kijun.

It's ironic how society has always taught the next about how and when it's important to fear God, rather than fearing the immediate violence of being alive instead. After all, the only hurdle between man and the God they bend the knees at night for are themselves.

A prayer can only save you if you are alive.

"In the name of the father, son and the holy spirit, Amen."

That's their signal and purely by design, as well as everyone else's. Unhurried and careful to keep small and out of sight, Kijun raises from his seat as the crowd surges and begins to drift towards the exit doors, wordlessly nudging Osias behind him for that extra overlay of obscurity. Five pews behind them now, Kim Namseong, none the wiser, claps his bible shut and thinks of his successful attendance as a telltale sign of safety within the same breath he fails to register the head full of luscious coils sprouting ahead of him, as the only sign of yonder bloodshed.

They tail him out, that blissful ignorance lasting him four whole blocks and a brief convenience store trip to home though at his front door, it becomes a carelessness that would be taxed at the cost of a tongue.

A risky operation soon ensues within strict Green Gang turfs, and is executed by just two men and their trusty blades.

It begins and ends in a back alley apartment block just two preceding buildings shy off the main road, the residence itself a narrow and unkempt street-level hall that reminds Kijun of his days spent in Gyeonggi prison. The thought even tickles a bitter chuckle out of him given the recollection that were this to go completely wrong, he would end up either dead or in prison yet again. Osias hears him in the silence, of course, sounds self-assured enough for the both of them as he echoes off a smug grin a sentiment off the side, just his boyish excitement and encouragement pulling Kijun's shoulders back with an immediacy that arrests him into resolution.

So it goes, the Green bastards, grim reaper and pigs all be damned. Blood can only be paid back with blood.

"Go on, then." Speaks Kijun only around the last corner up to their destination, encouragement returned in kind with a firm clap on Osias' rear.

Their plan was a simple one for the sake of avoiding too many complications and potential injuries: After Namseong gets home from his usual church service schedule, Osias will knock on his front door a couple minutes later and make conversation about anything random. Which, if he's not immediately recognized, would in turn allow Kijun just enough time to sneak up to the scene once Osias gives the clear, and pounce on Namseong. Palm muffling the screaming and an arm locked beneath his jaw, they'll have to knock him unconscious as soon as time and the ferocity of Nameseong's squirming will allow. And then that'll be that.

The only thing that manages to slip past them is a stray punch in the jaw behind him, which later in the night at their own hideout, Kijun will spend nursing with a half-frozen can of Terra beer, Osias already drunk and going off about something in English.

For now, they work in silence, speed and efficiency of it's use within their tandem paramount to their success. This was neither of their turfs after all, so a throbbing jaw would have to wait until their fates are once again only theirs to determine. While Kijun strips and ties up the unconscious body by the joints, Osias searches the room for anything that might alert the Greens of their meddling, smashing Namseong's phone and watch for good measure. Then he's hauled into the only armchair in the neglectful goshiwon space and gagged. His head silently hangs as though shame plagues him hushed and visionless, his neck bruising purple from their recent struggle. Kijun almost allows a pang of guilt grip his heart, except he can't seem to find it anywhere himself.

"A'ight, we shouldn't wait." Scarcely speaking, Osias murmurs as he pulls off his hat, then mimics Kijun by sinking into a relaxed crouch. "Gotta get what you need and get the fuck out posthaste. Surely they'll know somethin's wrong after an hour or two."

"Did'ya find anythin' in his stuff? Just to be sure. Still don't think we should kill him, 'least this— ain't the right place for that..."

"Yeah, yeah whatever y'say. Found these, though."

From Osias' jacket pocket to the center of a palm, then the next, appear a pocket knife and a burner phone. Kijun has to refrain from rolling his eyes and laughing too loud, but the approval is there, resonating in thick contorting eyebrows, his snickering and the soft popping of his knees as he stands again and casually cracks a slap across Namseong's right cheek, so unforgiving even the walls reflect the sound.

Kim Namseong jolts violently awake in the chair, his eyes falling wide as the moon upon a living nightmare he's probably had before. Once his gaze at last crosses Kijun, the air in his fury shifts to an alternative avenue; icy and tart with a fear he can't expunge quickly enough off his smooth face. The same reoccurring snake tattoo peeks at him from an inner left bicep, thus defining the other's ultimate stance. And that twists some ugly, raging, swelling thing inside Kijun as it clearly spells a dreaded mistake out for him: a massive oversight on his part, that'd almost costed him his life.

After laying out all the warnings and going through necessary intimidations, the captive emerges with dense pulps all over his body and two deep black eyes, sponsored by Osias' uncontrollable fists and Kijun's unrelenting refusal of wanting his partner to halt the pummeling. Until Namseong is choking on blood and air and begging through tears.

"Tell me what exactly you know now about the Green Gang's intentions with the ring and we'll leave it at this. Simple." Kijun attempts with a firm clap on Namseong's shoulder, "Why did you fuckin' traitors attack us?"

The next few minutes stretch for what feels like eons and naught, every second spent stalling another sentence of death upon the two who didn't at all belong in this space. Kim Namseong was a stubborn opponent, the type of gangster that rarely fought with his fists. He was slightly older and thus a handful wiser; better informed than most, and Kijun could tell. But Kijun has also learned over the years that to win against the odds, you must first take away their greatest asset. And we gotta do it quickly.

The idea emerges through the heat and pleasures of the moment like a fish out of water,and Kijun finds himself impulsively knocking Namseong out cold, for this final stretch. His fist flares bright red and purple with a fresh pair of reaped blotches, when he says, all wide-eyed and feral, "Hold his head back f'r me, O."

"What? The fuck're you doin'?"

"...Makin' sure he'll never snitch again."

Totally contrary to the wild, searing numbness overtaking his hands, the knife feels light and icy in Kijun's fist as he lifts his sweater and unsheathes it. So light it is that he feels he could toss it upwards and it would somersault on and on until it skewers the sun. But he grips it with a surgeon's precision, and sees only red.

"May God bless you."

The tongue is a soft collection of muscles and nerves that yield with mind-boggling ease to the blade. Such is the enormity of the cruelty behind survival.

[deaconsleatherpants]

Can you please do 22.nap 👉🏻👈🏻 ? Any Brugh character 💕

Word Prompts | @cant-eat-chips

of course! I went with Shelton for this but if you'd prefer it with a different character feel free to ask 🥺

22. nap

The house was strangely quiet, considering it was 5 in the afternoon and you could have sworn you'd heard Shelton's voice, loud with anger, what felt like only minutes before. A little concerned, you quietly padded down the stairs to see the living room dim and quiet, the curtains drawn over the windows and all the lights off.

Shelton was here after all, but he wasn't flipping through stacks of ill begotten cash, or scowling daggers at the gang, or raging at a rugby game. Instead he was asleep on the couch, a sofa pillow squashed under his head in what must have been a rather uncomfortable headrest. He looked tired, in more than just the traditional sense - his brow was furrowed with stress, the bags under his closed eyes showing just how little sleep he must have gotten lately.

Part of you thought it'd be a good idea to just go back upstairs and leave him alone to the nap he so clearly needed, but you couldn't have been more than halfway through this thought before you found yourself sitting down beside him, so close that you could have reached out and touched his shoulder.

Stirring at the movement, Shelton warily cracked open one sleepy eye just enough to catch a glimpse of who'd disturbed his fitful slumber; then, seeing it was you, wordlessly shifted to rest his head in your lap instead of the pillow. There was no soft smile, no gentle brush of his hand against yours, but you knew it was a show of love all the same. Letting himself be so vulnerable showed that, clear as day.

Gently, you ran your fingers against the side of his head, smoothing down a bit of hair that was sticking up at an odd angle. To your relief Shelton relaxed even more at your touch, and you could feel the warmth of his breath puffing against your thigh when he sighed softly. Your fingers moved to his face, cupping his cheek in a hand and brushing your touch against the tired lines of his face until they slackened.

He didn't say anything, and neither did you. There wasn't really a need to, after all; there was a sort of unspoken intimacy in the moment, with his head against your thigh and your fingertips carefully brushing against his scalp. And when he fell back asleep in your hands, he looked so carefree, so innocent, that you wished you could take away all his worries when he was awake too. But you couldn't, so you just sat there with him, watching the blooming colors of the setting sun through the thin veil of the curtains, caressing his shoulders until you felt the tight knots of muscle unwind themselves.

Much later, when he finally stretched and pulled himself into a sitting position, he did give you that soft smile after all, and when he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips you could almost hear his silent gratitude.

[avelera]

For the ask meme, I've got one that's sort of a hybrid of 34 (What aspects of your fic are taken from real life?) and 46 (Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?) Specifically, you've mentioned in some of your tags that you're in cybersecurity. Do you find that affects your writing at all, either in the content or in what tools you use? (I'm a software dev, and it absolutely affects my choice of writing tools.) Or if you prefer, number 41 (Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”) (Or both. Both is good too.)

Hey there! Sorry for the delay on this one, thank you for writing the questions in cuz the actual meme is buried by now!

To answer, yeah! I'm in cybersecurity, have been my whole career. I've very rarely written anything that directly ties to it, at least nothing published (I had grand designs for a BBC Sherlock fic once that, alas, never saw the light of day).

Mostly I think cybersecurity informs my writing in terms of processes, the way crimes actually happen, the way security actually happens, the way people think. I think of myself as a somewhat scattered person, but I've had commenters say that the plot, or sequence of events, or ways characters think in my stories can be quite methodical and detail-oriented, which may come from that world.

I actually find social engineering/con artistry very interesting as a result of my time spent in the security community, and that might be an influence too. "Prisoners' Dilemma" (Pacific Rim) and "This Rough Magic" (Sandman) of my fics in particular deal with both the heroes and villains operating as dueling con artists. Both take advantage of the social contract (our instincts to be accommodating to those who are polite to us, conflating niceness with goodness, the average unwillingness to cause offense or stick out or cause inconvenience) as ways to gain power over others, trick them, and/or otherwise pursue a goal.

"This Rough Magic" specifically has Burgess using some standard social engineer/con artist type skills to ingratiate himself to Hob. He disguises his identity, offers him a free flow of strong liquor to lower his guard, connects with him over shared hobbies (book collecting) and shared tragedies (lost sons) to win his trust. When Hob catches onto this, he begins to play Burgess right back, playing into the lost sons and listening carefully to everything Burgess says about who he thought Hob was before he met him and playing to that role, so everything he does seems to confirm that Burgess was right all along about Hob, that he's a fellow greedy magus and someone who is predisposed to like Burgess instead of hating him. The one missing piece Hob needs to keep most tightly in reserve is that he likes Dream instead of despising him. Thankfully, the thought of anyone liking Dream (who has never spoken to them) is so foreign to Burgess that it would take something fairly blatant for him to interpret Hob's actions that way.

I also think cybersecurity and the fact that most criminals like ransomware gangs are after money shades things a little bit, along with just being an adult who pays bills, just makes me keep front and center that money is a motivator and concern for most people. Having a character like Dream around allows me to skip over some of the nitty-gritty of little things like "needing money to survive" but I try to keep it as at least a concern for characters who are not Dream and to use it at times to demonstrate to Dream how out of touch he is with human needs and therefore human motivations.

As for writing tools? Not really, I use Pages on a Macbook because it automatically uploads to the Cloud and I've lost works before. But my writing tools have little to do with my profession.

Final question, fics that make me want to write like that? When I was 14 I read a fic called "Veiling of the Sun" for the LOTR fandom, which was a canon-divergence AU about what if Boromir gave in to the Ring's power in FotR, did terrible things while under its control, and then need to claw his way back to redemption after what he'd done. It was originally posted on Henneth Annun and has since been moved to AO3. This is arguably the fic that made me want to be an angst writer in the first place because I cried so hard while reading it. Not sure how it holds up to the test of time and changing fashions, but I always like to give it a shout-out for these kinds of questions :)

[sunnyrinka]

oooo “Maybe we should bike instead?” with the terasaka gang if thats all cool? ur descriptive writing style is so nice to read :]

ofc, i'd been wanting to write something with the tgang! and tysm lee<33 sorry the delay

Terasaka Gang┊"Maybe we should bike instead?"

They had not made it far before the rain started to pour. The raindrops was purely a light drizzle, but they came down so suddenly, when only a second ago the sun had been ablaze and the sky was clear. Before they knew it, dark grey clouds had begun to roll in, darkening the ambience with a snap.

The breeze whirled, signalling a storm incoming. Trees overhead swayed amidst the howling wind and littered the pavement with rolling leaves.

"Such luck..." Muramatsu sighed, his hand slightly upturned to catch the cold droplets landing tenderly onto his palm. Puddles formed around them as they quickened their steps, the soft pellets tickling their arms.

Hazama stared solemnly at the hazy shroud of clouds, veiling them with a cloak of melancholia. "There goes our plans," she muttered.

"Cheer up, you guys!" Terasaka turned to face his friends, meeting their gazes one by one with an assuring expression. "Only a soft drizzle right now. That can't stop us, right?"

As if on cue, the rain got heavier. The trickling droplets accumulated into hurdling pellets. The gang simultaneously tugged the hems of their sleeves and pulled their coats closed, tighter. Wind rushed through the rigorous raindrops, aggressively slicing the icy air that left their fingers frigid.

"Don't be dumb." Itona stated nonchalantly, but he had to raise his voice to be heard over the roaring squall.

"Hey!" Terasaka scowled. "This can't stop us! Maybe we should bike instead?"

"Don't be dumb!" Yoshida echoed. He reached for his friends' arms, hauling them back down the road. "Come on, we should quickly get back before any of us catches a cold, okay?"

They poured into Matsuraiken, dumping their soaked coats atop the 'welcome' mat by the entryway. Panting, yet trembling from the cold. Their clothes were damp, their shoes drenched from running briskly through the submerging puddles flooding the road. But Terasaka walked his way back out and seated himself on the shop's porch, guarded by the downpour due to the slanted roof.

"What are you doing?" Yoshida glanced at him from the doorway, quizzically tilting his head.

"The rain should die down soon." He grumbled in response.

"Come on, man." Yoshida sighed as he watched his stubborn friend, but a fond smile appeared on his face. "We can always go hiking another day."

Terasaka made a tsk-tsk sound. "No.. you guys have been planning this for a week. Don't think that I haven't notice how excited y'all were."

"What are you going to do then? Will the rain to stop with your mind?" Itona raised his eyebrows at him.

"You...! Shut up. Dude, you were the most enthusiastic about this!"

"Stop this." Hazama's voice immediately ceased the upcoming banter. "Let's eat lunch first, alright?" She lightly tapped Muramatsu's shoulder and flashed him a knowing look.

Muramatsu later joined his friends, lined up on the steps of the porch, and handing them each a bowl of steaming ramen. "I heated up some leftovers from yesterday."

They ate in silence, sheltered under the roof where the heavy raindrops continued to beat down aggressively with no end. The world unfurled in front of their eyes, the view of the road a hazy blur of staggering bushes and splashing dewdrops.

They huddled together, embraced by the comfort of companions and snuggled by the toasty meal, made with the concern of a caring friend. Even as the ruthless winds persisted to unleash its cold fury, their hearts remained warm.

"Muramatsu, the ramen is great today." Itona commented, taking another big bite of the delicacy.

"Is it?" Muramatsu's eyes lit up, looking slightly surprised. "Well, dad actually went through with what I said for once..."

Yoshida nodded in agreement, before drooping his head in disappointment. "It's a shame that we couldn't make it far today..."

"The weather's been unpredictable lately," Hazama added.

"Next time, let's take the forecast into consideration too."

She shook her head. "The forecast said it was going to be sunny today. I really mean it when I say the weather is unpredictable."

"Better luck next time, I guess." He sighed.

But the rain eventually came to a halt quicker than they anticipated, the winds dying down to only a mere whistle that prickled the tree branches. Thundering pounds of raindrops dwindled to a melodic clink, soft trickles dribbling. The sky lit up just as their spirits did. It had not been a plan gone to waste after all.

[mahayanapilgrim]

This is the great Tilopa’ Mahamudra Song.

Tilopa was a great Buddhist sage, living at the beginning of 11th century (988–1069) in India and a very mythical person indeed. It is believed he has received Mahamudra teachings from primordial Buddha Vajradhara himself – the primordial essence of all things, the absolute Wisdom and Compassion.

This Mahamudra Song he later transmitted to Naropa near the Ganges river, when Naropa completed his twelve austerities given by his Guru.

Later Naropa gave it to Marpa Lotsawa, who translated these teachings and brought to Tibet. Later he taught it to yogi Milarepa and many other Buddhist masters. It is considered that Mahamudra Song Of Tilopa contains the essence of all teachings.

Mahamudra transcends all words
And symbols, but for you, Naropa,
Earnest and loyal,
I have to say this:

The Emptiness doesn’t need support,
Mahamudra rests on nothing.
Without making any effort,
One can break the yoke
Thus - reaching Liberation.

If one sees nothing when staring into space,
If with the mind one then observes the mind,
One destroys distinctions and reaches Buddhahood.

The clouds that wander through the sky
Have no roots, no home; nor do the distinctive
Thoughts, which float through the mind.
Once the nature of mind is seen,
Discrimination stops.

In space shapes and colours form,
But neither by black nor white is space tinged.
From the nature of mind all things emerge,
The mind is not tainted by virtues or vices.

The darkness of ages cannot hide the bright sun
Nor the long kalpas of samsara
can hide the splendid light mind.
Though words are spoken to explain the Emptiness,
Emptiness for itself can never be expressed.

Though we say "the mind is a bright light,"
It is beyond all words and symbols.
Although the mind’s nature is empty,
It embraces and contains all things.

Do nothing with the body but relax,
Shut firm the mouth and keep silent.
Empty your mind and focus onnothingness.
Like a hollow bamboo relax your body.
Without giving or taking, put your mind to rest.

Mahamudra is like a mind that clings to nothingness.
Thus practicing, you will reach Buddhahood.
The practice of Mantra and Paramita,
Instruction in the Sutras and Precepts,
And teaching of Schools and Scriptures will not bring
Realization of the Inner Truth.
If the mind with desire is looking to goal,
It only conceals the Light.

He who keeps Tantric Precepts,
Yet makes discriminations,
betrays the spirit of samaya.
Cease all activity,
abandon all desire,
let thoughts arise and disappear
like the waves of the ocean.

He who never harms the Non-abiding
Nor the Principle of Non-distinction,
Uphold the Tantric Precepts.
He who abandons craving
And doesn’t cling to this or that,
Realize the true meaning of Scriptures.

In Mahamudra all sins are burned;
In Mahamudra one is released
From the prison of this world.
This is the Dharma's supreme torch.
Those who doesn’t believe it
Are fools who ever wallow
In misery and sorrow.

To strive for Liberation
One should rely on a Guru.
When your mind receives his blessing
Liberation is at hand.

Thus, all things of this world are insignificant,
nothing, but seeds of sorrow.
Small teachings lead you to act small;
one should follow only the great teachings.

Transcending duality is the vision of the king.
Conquer distractions is the practice of kings.
The path of non-practice is the way of all Buddhas.
One who travels that road reaches Buddhahood.

This world is transient,
like ghosts and dreams, without any substance.
Renounce it and forsake your kin,
cut the cords of lust and hatred
and meditate in the forests and mountains.

If without effort you remain
Loosely in the "natural state,"
Soon Mahamudra you will win
And attain the Non-attainment.

Cut the root of a tree
And the leaves will wither;
Cut the root of your mind
And samsara will fall.

The light of any lamp
Dispels in a moment
The darkness of long kalpas;
The strong light of the mind
In just a flash will burn
The veil of ignorance.

Whoever clings to mind sees not
The truth of what's beyond the mind.
Whoever strives to practice Dharma,
Finds not the truth that’s beyond the practice.

To see what is Beyond both mind and practice,
One should cut cleanly through the root of mind
And observe it naked.

One should thus break away
From all distinctions and remain at ease.
One should not give or take
But remain natural,
For Mahamudra is beyond
All acceptance and rejection.

Since Alaya is unborn,
No one can obstruct or soil it;
Staying in the "Unborn" realm
All appearance will dissolve Into the Dharmata,
And the will and pride will vanish into nothingness.

The supreme Understanding transcends
All this and that.

Supreme Understanding
transcends "this" and "that".
The supreme action
handles all situations, without attachment.
The supreme realization
is to realize immanence without hope.

At first, the yogi feels his mind
falls as a waterfall;
half of its course flows slow and placid,
as the Ganges;

In the end,
It is a great vast ocean,
Where the Lights of Son and Mother
Merge into One.