#Trapped in an eternal purgatory

[someidiot-withadhd]

Celbit’s dad’s ghost is a ducking mood

If I die I wanna end up like him lmao

[landonkirbyappreciation]

The symbolism of Landon being locked away and tied up throughout the show only for his ending to be him being trapped and bound to limbo forever. That was some real foreshadowing for how the writers were gonna doom Landon huh

bonus: Landon being tied up in limbo

[blueish-bird]

burnout is sapping my hyperfixation of creative energy, but not to worry! I’m still thinking about Aki and Angel an incredibly abnormal amount

[awordbroken]

so is the text for sending a christmas card from the masters the same this year or what... is mr transport going to stay a squalling baby forever 😱

[stackslip]

probably a vry basic assessment but back when i read fire punch i remember viewing it as a new age origin/religious story

especially towards the latter half where you had all that spiritual(?) stuff, u know like the big tree

im sorry im not good at this stuff but i hope you can see where im coming from

i see what you mean! i think the big tree is also one of the most interesting yet underexplored aspects of the story. i don't necessarily think the story is about new age or religion but rather like, the stories people tell themselves in order to keep living, and how these stories get interpreted and transmitted, and how they might be the only thing keeping you alive when you're beyond misery. i don't think it's a condemnation or mockery of religion either though--sun's worship of agni truly begins when he's being tortured underground, and the stories he tells the other prisoners help them all endure and survive the hell they're living through. togata uses movies to cope with his dysphoria. judah made up the king and story of behemog to give people a shred of hope. agni projects luna onto judah in order to justify her last words and to live. the witch has lived hundreds of years and is literally willing to sacrifice earth in order to get to watch the next star wars movie because she's unable to die and it's the only thing keeping her from utterly losing her mind. and like again i don't think fujimoto is calling any of these people foolish or stupid! if anything there's deep empathy for their quest to find any meaning to distract them from suffering and suicidal thoughts, empathy that i think comes from experience.

[thethcministry]

[koolades-world]

Random Obey Me! Headcannons

Lucifer really likes human world blue cheese but refuses to admit it because he knows he will be made fun of for it by his brothers

Mammon has his first dollar he made in the Devildom framed and when Mc found it while looking for condoms he was really embarrassed

Idk it’s so funny to me to think of Mc and Mammon about to have sexy time and they need to go look for a condom. Mammon swears he has some so Mc goes digging though a drawer and finds a framed dollar bill while butt naked

“Mammon what is this-”

“SHIT UNSEE THAT HUMAN”

Levi has neck and back pains from all the gaming he does and really loves massages but is too scared to ask

Satan once stole a pair of Lucifer’s underwear and hung it from the RAD flagpole

Asmo made it a point to introduce Mc into his nightly routine as his face mask buddy, even to the point of doing it over call if they’re separated

This also sounds funny as shit imagine someone like Levi walking in on that

“So anyways, I stomped their skull in and got blood on my new boots. My hands also hurt from wringing the neck of that-”

“Asmo, Lucifer wants to know- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU”

“A face mask, Levi. You could use one”

Beel loves kids and likes it when they use him as a jungle gym

Belphie always kicks people in his sleep without fail. Mammon swears he does it on purpose but knows he doesn't

Simeon does the best hair braids and is regarded the best in the Celestial Realm

Luke hates girl scout cookies since he thinks homemade cookies are so much better

Solomon can be seen leaving Asmo's room at any point during the day but nobody ever sees him going in. Imagine hanging out with Asmo and Solomon just fucking appears and then disappears just as fast

Diavolo's favorite color is pink

Barbatos has a succulent garden and Mc will bring him a new one every time they come back from the human world

Thirteen definitely loves Mexican food and spice in general

Raphael is convinced soft blankets are the best thing to ever exist

Mephisto once accidently knocked over one of Luke's cakes and felt so bad that he sent Purgatory Hall a buttload of money and wrote an article in the RAD newspaper about how great the angels were at baking

Mammon and Lucifer openly hate white chocolate (because it's not chocolate). Satan does too but pretends to like it because Lucifer likes it

Whenever Satan needs a parter to go to the events he gets invited to, Mc and Asmo are his first choices. He's closest with Asmo (Belphie is a second close) and doesn't mind the fanfare

Asmo and Beel often travel around the Devildom together. Asmo can't eat everything he orders since he just wants pictres so Beel is the ideal companion. Beel is also the perfect body guard

Solomon's current favorite liquor is Fireball and always has some on hand, but Luke always hides it because he thinks drinking is a bad habit

Barbatos definitely listens to heavy metal but everyone thinks he listens to classical music

If my grandmothers met the brothers, Beel would be their fav because he would clean his plate but if it was everyone, Simeon would take it home because he’s so charming even though he’s barely clothed

Everyone is so downbad for Mc I think it might scare off other people how much they hover. Like, a lower demon bothering you? Literally anything could happen to them, like they could be thrown in an endless loop of suffering, they could be made dirt poor for eternity, or they could be torn limb from limb <3 gotta love it

Asmo and Belphie make a deadly duo when to comes to trapping people/demons/angels. They both have the power to lure you in, and would probably take turn luring in victims for an evening as some sort of strange brother bonding. They both remind me of angler fish in a way. Asmo lures them with the pretense of sex and Belphie with relaxation, two things people can’t get enough of and they can stay calm enough to pull it off

Solomon has definitely made the brothers swap bodies or something crazy like that, on accident or not, you decide

Whenever Mc is feeling down, Diavolo offers his man titties as a nice pillow to relax on because he read somewhere once humans liked that

Beel is like a bull in a china shop so do not take him anyway where you need to be delicate. Belphie knows this, and will put him to sleep and carry him when they need to go somewhere like an antique shop by promising him a snack afterwards

Beel thinks Satan, Belphie, and Mc make the best weights out of everyone. Satan will just read, Belphie will just sleep, and Mc is like his personal cheerleader. However, he can and will lift all his brothers and Mc and the same time if he wants to, it’s just difficult to get them all in the same place at the same time

Thirteen, Belphie, and Satan got in a prank war once and it had to end in a draw since one party could not best the other. In the end, they made a final, collaborative prank and pulled it on Solomon

Mc once fell down the stairs in the human realm, ended up in the hospital, and sent the entire cast into panic so much that they took turns watching over them

Mephisto and Mc once had a night out drinking together and (somehow) returned to the HoL but were totally smashed. Lucifer forbid them from doing it again, but they still sneak out together and just crash at Mephiso’s place instead

[kastalani123]

Leo Valdez, contrary to popular belief formed by the fact that most people only see him around others when he's fighting for his life, does not use his fire all the time.

It's been Plan C since he was eight, afterall, the screams of his mother and crackling of kindling eternally echoing in his ears. It itches under his skin, rages through his veins, burns in his chest, it wants out, but he claws at it and buries it down, down, down where it cannot hurt anyone. Ivory bones under charred skin flash through his mind, flames devouring everything around–

He pulls his ratty blanket tighter around himself, shoving away the need to drive away the winter chill with his lifeblood. There are angry red marks down his arms, lacerations decorating his ribs, oozing blood, and he had been taught how to burn them, to force his skin to yield to flames, to use fire to heal, but he doesn't, because nothing that eats away at living flesh can be good — it's the Devil's power, afterall.

He uses it to save his friends, to save the world, because the damage it can do is smaller than if he doesn't. It tears him into pieces, skin flaking off and bones crumbling to ash, and that is his repentance, his purgatory, his Passion, his crucifixion for his own sins–

And then he's back and he binds his hands in gloves and cuffs imbued with the need to trap, to keep his simmering underneath his skin, to contain the fire in his bones and his bones only. He is not to burn anything ever again if he can help it.

Leo Valdez does not use his fire.

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[misc-obeyme]

Okay, as requested by @obeymewanderer, here are the dateables turning into cats and needing true love's kiss to turn them back!

I included Luke, but the cure for him is just a counter curse for obvious reasons. I just thought it'd be fun to write about him turning into a cat, too lol.

Anyway, thank you for the request, I'm glad you enjoyed the first part!

dateables turn into cats and need a true love's kiss from GN!MC to change back

Warnings: none!

Diavolo

You don't have to find him. There's a knock on your door and when you open it, you find Barbatos holding an adorable cat with orange-red fur and bright gold eyes. He's got mischief on his face and Barb has fatigue on his. The Young Master cannot stay like this, he has far too much paperwork to do. Your assistance is needed.

Diavolo as a cat is absolutely precious. Wants to sit in your lap all time, constantly purring at you. When he's not cuddling with you, he's getting into things. Climbing under things, climbing over things, just being a general menace. It's not malicious, he's just intensely curious. He's not used to being this small! Despite his tendency to wander off, he always comes back if you or Barbatos call his name. Keep him away from Lucifer's office, please. He's going to get right up on the desk and mess up all the papers. Gets ink on his paws and walks across some important documents.

Together with Barbatos you figure out that he accidentally tripped one of Thirteen's traps that was meant for Solomon. You're actually relieved that it resulted in something so harmless as turning him into a cat. He's a really cute cat, after all. A quick message to Thirteen reveals the cure to the curse.

Take him back to your room, hold him in your arms, and kiss his furry head. He returns to normal still in your arms and he puts his around you before you even realize what's happening. Oh, MC. What a glorious time he had as a cat! But he's eternally grateful that it was your true love's kiss that turned him back to normal. Please kiss him again.

Barbatos

You're headed to the Demon Lord's Castle to have tea with Barbatos, but Little D No 2 greets you at the door instead and he looks worried. You can tell right away that something is wrong, so you follow him to Barbatos's room where you find a black cat with bright green eyes. You are far more amused by this situation than he is, but he's staying calm.

He's a pretty chill cat. He's gonna let you do whatever you like. Pick him up, carry him around, pet him, whatever, as long as you're working quickly to find a way to fix him. Won't let you slack off on that front. If you get even a little bit distracted, he will bat at you with his paws. Only hisses at you if you ignore him. Won't let you take him out of his room, though, so you're going to have to figure out what happened on your own.

It turns out that Little D No 2 is able to fill you in on some of those details. His explanation is questionable at best, but it sounds like it was actually his fault that Barbatos is now a cat. Something to do with some spilled magical potions or something. It's not really enough for you to figure out what you need to do and you're about to resort to well known curse breakers when kitty Barbatos starts licking your hand.

You finally figure out that he's trying to tell you that you should try true love's kiss. He's sitting on his bed and you bend down to pick up one of his paws, kissing the little paw pads which are all pink. He turns back immediately, his hand in yours. He pulls you down into his lap, his own lips by your ear. Without your hard work, he would still be cursed. Let him thank you properly, MC.

Simeon

You show up at Purgatory Hall to find Luke in an absolute panic. He's holding the cutest little brown kitty you've ever seen with the brightest of blue eyes. You're gushing about how cute this cat is - he's so pretty! - while Luke is on the verge of tears. This is not a cat! This is Simeon! Okay, okay, you gotta calm Luke down. Simeon himself seems pretty chill about the whole thing. No doubt he's just amused.

He's incredibly sweet as a cat. A lot of purring, a lot of sitting in laps, a lot of head butting for pets, and a lot of slow blinks. He has one of those cat faces that makes it look like he's always smiling. Likes to rub on people's ankles, which always seems to result in them tripping over him. You're not sure how purposeful this is. Stays by your side most of the time, content to watch you try to figure out how to fix him.

You don't even have to ask what happened because Luke is telling you all about it. It's pretty predictable, Solomon tried to cook something again and Simeon made the mistake of agreeing to try some. He couldn't find a way out of it that time, so this was the result. Solomon himself had left to see if he could find a cure. So Luke was just sitting around at Purgatory Hall, freaking out, until Solomon came back.

Turns out you don't need Solomon to figure this one out. You're a sorcerer, too, and a good one. You examine the food in question and while it's hard to tell what exactly the cure for some of Solomon's food is, you decide on true love's kiss. This is based entirely on your expertise as a sorcerer. Standing in the kitchen, you pick up Simeon and kiss his fuzzy cheek. He turns back into himself, smiles at you, and kisses you back. What a sweet way to be cured. But he's going to need a little more of your time, MC.

Solomon

You show up at Purgatory Hall for your usual magic lesson only to find that your teacher is nowhere to be seen. You look around his room and research area until you find a cat with silvery fur and grey-blue eyes. You can tell just by looking at him that this is Solomon. Not only because of his coloration but the fact that he has the expression of an absolute menace while somehow still being a cat.

You're about to grab him, but he's off, running around the room, climbing on things, just generally experiencing life as a cat. You're sure he already knows what to do to fix himself, so you almost just turn around and leave him. But when you're at the door, he meows plaintively, so you sigh and turn back. He's already trying to do magic in his cat form and failing miserably. You better change him back quickly because who knows what this guy is going to get up to like this.

It doesn't take long for you to see that this was the result of an experiment. All the evidence is laid out on the table - books and various magical implements and a notebook full of Solomon's handwriting. You read through it and find that he has already figured it out. In fact, you're thinking he might have done this on purpose. He knew you were coming, after all. And he knew what the cure was, too.

You're going to need to call him over sternly. He'll come and act all sweet about it, rubbing up against you and purring. You pick him up, put him on the table in front of you, and kiss his nose. He turns back into himself, sitting on the table, legs on either side of you. He laughs. He knew you could do it, MC! He knew you would figure out the cure. You get to decide if you're angry with him for doing this on purpose or not. Either way, you won't be able to stop yourself from kissing him again.

Luke

You're sitting in your class, minding your own business, when something small comes bolting in, followed by a couple of concerned looking demon brothers. The small thing stops at your feet, clinging to them desperately. This is painful because claws. You demand to know what's going on, picking up the shivering fluff ball. It's a little cat with white-blond fur and blue eyes. It's the halo in the eyes that gives it away. This is obviously Luke. It's Beel who tells you what happened - they were working on curses and this one accidentally hit Luke.

He's absolutely freaking out. Now that he's in your arms, he's clinging to your uniform like his life depends on it. He's doing that low mewling growl as he glares at the demon brothers standing nearby. His tail is twitching fast in irritation. If anybody else tries to get close to him, he hisses.

You hold onto him until school is over and then you take him to Purgatory Hall. Once there, you explain to Simeon and Solomon what's going on. Simeon takes Luke into his care, since he's the only one who can do so without getting bitten. You and Solomon then work to find a cure for this predicament.

Solomon finds a spell he can use as a counter-curse and casts it on Luke. He turns back into himself, clearly still extremely stressed. Won't you stay for a little bit, MC? He's had a rough day. Give him a hug and promise to stay by his side for a little while as he recovers from this mortifying ordeal. At least he was turned into a cat and not a chihuahua, right?

masterlist | part 1 with the brothers | Thank you for reading!

[kiwioala]

foolishs interview with cucurucho!

What is your biggest accomplishment on the island? Answer: Building the titan.

2. What is your favorite memory in the island? Answer: Depends on the day, he as a lot of cool memories connected with each emotion, but overall the first day of purgatory!

3. Have you ever felt like the protagonist of the story, if yes when? if no why? Answer: Yes, there was the whole batman thing, and then he built the dragon, and then the time he built the titan, then the time he became king of the capybaras, then when he became the police officer

4. If there is something in your story that must stay, that is important, what would it be? Answer: Being king of the capybaras was fun and being a detective/policeman and having a gun. Then there was the shark fins, but on a given day he could do more detective stuff than KOC stuff (he wants the eternal banana). Then he admitted he owned a cloud (illegal item) to cucurucho that he had it and got away with it. Basically either being KOC or being a detective/cop and having an office.

5. if you were to be recognized for something you did, what would it be? would it be something good or bad? Answer: Simple answer; building. Even though he built the titan, he thinks his dragon build is better.

6. Would you be more motivated into completing something with a premium to be rewarded in the end? Answer: Yeah, probably. Or money, or any kind of reward can help.

7. If there was a future out of the island, who would you take with you on your journey? Answer: Tough question, he thinks theres a lot of possibilities and different angles. Ultimately, he decided Roier so that if he gets trapped somewhere, he'll have no choice but to learn more Spanish.

8. You got a huge nomination, what message would you give your supporters? Answer: Thanks to everyone out there, thank you for recognizing me as the best, I couldn't have done it without you, and next year I plan on doing it again because thats what I do. Because once I do it once, it's bound to happen twice. And then I would grab the trophy and through it back into the crowd and go "this one goes out to you guys!"

9. What advice would you give others, into pursuing goals? What is the first and most important step? Answer: The very, most important step, is kind of just to start. And then once you start, then you begin to adapt and learn and change and try new things.

[cantheykillmacbeth]

could Giorno Giovanna kill MacBeth

Unfortunately, I believe the answer is no here. His mother is shown, though not given a first name, and we know pretty much for a fact that she was the one to give birth to Giorno, and there's no implication I could find that the birth went in a way that would qualify him for UBC. His conception was definitely very esoteric, with his father being DIO in the body of Jonathan Joestar, but the birth itself was not, so it doesn't count.

Sorry! Thank you for your submission!

EDIT: Looking into this a bit more, Giorno might qualify as a Unique Exception via his Stand, Gold Experience Requiem? GER has the ability to "nullify the actions and willpower of anyone who opposes it," which ignores every other character's abilities. It's a bit unclear if this could apply to a prophecy delivered by a third party, but GER could probably use its power to keep Macbeth trapped in a sort of purgatory for eternity, even if it wasn't able to directly kill him. This wouldn't exactly be circumventing the prophecy, but more like fulfilling the prophecy in an unintended way: "No man of woman born can kill Macbeth" is correct, in that Mabeth can never die by anyone's hand in this endless time-loop that GER has put him in.

[cat-mentality]

PLS ELABORATE ON THIS [the theory on which eggs fit which sins]

OKAY BUCKLE UP ANON!!!! This is straight up tin foil hat territory, i'm just like manifesting from nothing because it is incredibly fun in my mind

For this to make a little of sense i'm going to consider Purgatory as my catholic school taught me- A place where the sinners go to repent to their sins, either for all of eternity, if the sins are too big or too terrible, or until they have been forgiven and i'm taking Dante's inferno as my guideline on how this whole thing operates.

I'm also going with the theory that Black Cucurucho was the one responsible for taking the eggs/scaring them away, maybe to make them vulnerable and fall on his trap, is my personal theory that the Black Cucurucho is literally the anti-Federation, as in order versus chaos and as such he is looking to destroy everything the Federation is building and using the egg's to do so (and also Cellbit!!! If it's not the Rebels giving him the information i bet on Black Cucurucho more than the Feds themselves).

So, basically: The eggs get kidnapped by this new strange force (not evil per say, not more than the Federation itself, but less interested in pretending not to be, like the Anfitrião in Ordem Paranormal) and they get stuck in Purgatory, who is made by 9th circles, divided by the type of sinners they are set to punish. The tickets are the passage to get into the circles, Virgil acted as Dante's guide in this case the train will be responsible for taking them from one circle (island) to the next IF they manage to complete whatever task will be set in their way.

I believe the placement of each egg (in my delulu head) has less to do with their own sins, as the Black Cucurucho is not really interested in them but rather in the suffering he can inflict on the parents using them, but in the mortal flaw he sees on their parents.

Chayenne i would put being stuck in the 1st circle, Limbo. It's the less worse of the nine as it is the place where the unbaptized and virtuous pagan stay, endlessly walking in eternal darkness.

Why you ask me?

Well Chayenne IS the son of the Angel of Death. His other father is also a being blessed by death (or cursed with life, your pick). He worships the Blood God. He is dear to the Goddess of Death herself.

What's more pagan than that?

Besides Chayenne IS virtuous himself, he is a warrior, devout to the Blood God however not for bloodlust, but for the desire of protecting those he loves and cherishes. Little Chayenne, walking endlessly searching for his siblings, praying to his fathers' goddesses to shine a light, to show him the way, to protect his siblings, but receiving nothing back as the goddesses is forbidden from interfering with the living, even the ones toying the line into her realm.

I actually changed my mind and we are putting Tallulah in the 2nd circle, Luxury. Now, we about to play loose with the definition of luxury here as this is the circle where the damned are tormented with strong winds that drag them through hell, i'm focusing not on Luxury as a carnal sin, but rather the element of desire.

And for this we are going to consider Wilbur as the parent being punished, not Philza.

Wilbur who left for fame.

Wilbur who left for months and months and months. Who lusted for the world, who wanted to be known, who wanted to be adored, who lusted after a life of his dreams.

Wilbur who in his lust for the world forgot the one person who always considered him her whole world.

Tallulah lusting after safety, lusting for a place to belong, lusting to leave a mark in the world so that it doesn't forget her, trying to grab onto anything to prove her worth and her value but now being stuck in those winds. dragged without a destination, powerless and alone.

Pomme is then in the 3rd circle, Gluttony. The 3rd circle is the circle for those who were gluttons, who over indulged, are now stuck in pits of dirty, freezing mud, tormented by Cerberus and also a storm of snow, hail and thunder.

Etoiles, always hungry for the next fight, for the next dungeon, for the next opponent.

Baghera always hungry for answers, for things she cannot have, cannot do (she wants an explanation about what happened to her, she wants to save her friends when she cannot even save herself, she desires for the world to be good and kind).

Antoine, always hungry for power, selling his soul, his family, to achieve it. Devouring faces, devouring stories, devouring lives, swallowing everything whole until he doesn't even know who he was supposed to really be.

Pierre always hungry for connection, for warmth, hungry for those he meets, trying to fill the void in his heart with the temporary warmth of another body.

Pomme hungry for adventures, hungry to prove that she is worth of love (she remembers, those first days, the distrusts, the coldness, the way they considered not taking her and she never wants to feel that cold), Pomme being stuck, helpless when she knows so very well that helplessness gets you killed, that it makes you weak and unworthy.

The 4th circle, Avarice is empty, of the eggs at least. A respite, as much as they can have in that place.

They find Ramon in the 5th circle, Wrath. Localized on the Styx, the river that cuts through the Purgatory, made of boiling water and blood, that is the place where the wrathful are locked on eternal fights on the surface of the river, on the bottom the sullen are forever stuck drowning on the things they never got to say.

Fit who lived his whole life in a desolate wasteland where fighting was the only thing he could do. Fit who knew no rest, no peace, no sound of those fighting and those dying.

Fit who fought his whole life, who is still fighting, who doesn't know how to rest, who doesn't know how to forgive, who chokes on his wrath, who forces it down his throat because he wants to be better but anger was all that he knew during most of his life.

Fit who looks at those people in their eternal battle, bleeding and making others bleed for no reason, with no end in sight, with no real purpose but to cause harm, and feels at home.

Ramon who tries so hard to be light, to support and help his father in whatever he needs, who drowns his own feelings because he doesn't want to bother others, because he wants to be the rock they can lean on, drowning at the bottom of the Styx.

Leonarda is on the 6th circle, Heresy. This is the circle where the sinners had the intention of sinning, the one destined to those who denied the existence of god, who went against the beliefs of their time, and now they lay on open graves as fire burns them.

And what is Foolish if not a non believer?

He believes in no god, no authority, no deity. He believes in himself, he believes in his family, he believes in what he thinks is right.

Oh he plays pretend of course, he smiles at the Federation, he works for them, he joins the Ordo, he participates in their reunions, but do he believe in any of them? Does he commit to one dogma over the other?

Of course not.

Foolish is a non believer. He will join the side that offers him the most, he will betray them as easily as he joined, he will jump from a place to another as long as that keeps his family safe, as long as that is what is better for them.

Foolish who sins and smiles as he does so.

Little Leonarda who believes in her Pa above everything and anything else, burning in a never ending fire. Little Leonarda who doesn't give a fuck about anything else as long as he is okay, as long as he is by her side, who would follow him into whatever mess he got himself into, who couldn't care less about other's morals or expectations, who would gladly sin as long as they are together.

Richarlyson is on the 7th circle, Violence. This circle is actually divided in three parts but i think only two would be used the Valley of the Phlegethon where the ones who were violent against others were submerged on a river of the blood of those they hurt, and the valley of the suicidal, where those who were violent against themselves became either trees, eaten by harpies or chased by hungry dogs.

And well, it's self explanatory isn't it?

Who has spilled more blood than Cellbit? Between the war, the prison and not the Island he has enough blood on his account to drown them all.

Forever? Oh there are bloodbaths in his past too. There is rage that blinds, that takes hold of him and only leaves when he is standing in the aftermath of a carnage.

Mike does not mind blood. Never has, never will.

And who hurts Pac more than he does himself? Who hates Cellbit more than he hates himself? Who blames Forever for things, more than himself?

They may turn their rage against the world, may bath it into blood, may spill it until rivers form but they drown themselves in it too.

And Richarlyson? Little boy who saw too much, who knew death and suffering too early, who lives at war with a part of himself who wants nothing but to hurt and destroy.

Finally, Dapper is on the 8th circle, Fraud. This circle has ten pits in it, each designated to a type of sinner with their own punishment, raking from being whipped by demons to being submerged into boiling tar or being dressed into shiny clothes who were as heavy as lead.

And what is BadboyHalo if not a fraud?

Who even knows who he truly is, what he truly thinks? Probably not even himself.

This is a man of many layers and many masks, a man who presents himself in any way he thinks is right regardless of what he truly feels or thinks, this is a man who will lie to anyone, including himself.

This is a man who embodies every single sin punished, who could easily be put into any of the pits. Is he not a seducer? Is he not a liar and a thief? Corrupted by his own darkness? A hypocrite, to others and to himself? Does he not sow discord, does he not give bad advice?

And isn't Dapper too much like their father? Little Dapper who lies and lies and lies, who hides behind her own masks, who is now being punished because they do not know who they truly are underneath all the masks.

And the 9th circle, the last one?

Betrayal.

Sometimes the only way to leave hell, to leave Purgatory, is to be worse than the devils.

[stardust-and-ivory]

TITANS

DESCRIPTION

Titans are magical beings that are responsible for modern life on the planet.

There are 3 types of titans.

Aerial - dragon-like titans with wings for gliding short distances and display. Their breath is molten metal.

Terrestrial - wolf-like titans with large muscle strength. They release a sonic boom from their jaws

Aquatic - mosasaur-like titans with front flippers and a powerful tail. They’ve developed a spine that mimics the appearance of coral to hide from predators and prey. They can inhale water at a speed fast enough to create massive whirlpools.

All titans share glyph magic, the ability to create life, and growth rate.

Of the three titan types, aerial and terrestrial titans share territory, while aquatic titans are more solitary and less abundant. Some titans have wings that are covered in vibrant patterns to display their importance, as these are often elders, royals, or generals. These wings cannot be used for flight and are more of a way to say ‘look at me, I’m important, respect me’.

The ‘skulls’ on their heads are not actually part of their skeleton - it is a piece of head armour that evolved from simple plates into a whole helmet

Titan societies are very open. There is a royal bloodline, but they are more laid back and less commanding. They value respect and bow before the earth. Titans follow a unique calendar and hold festivals for important events, including full moons, hatchings, marriage, and music. The most important tradition held by titans, however, comes when they reach an age of 1000.

HIBERNATION

Because titan ancestors gained magic through the earth, modern titans are forever grateful and believe that they owe their lives to nature. They spend their lives learning their own unique magic and teaching others, and then can choose to enter an eternal hibernation. This hibernation is where they rest for the rest of eternity, not dead, but not awake either. Over time, during this sleep, their bodies are reclaimed by the earth. Their hides turn to stone, trees grow on their backs, and life can flourish over their bodies. Depending on where they rest, they will form different biomes. Since the majority of the planet is ocean, most will form islands or coral reefs.

The same will occur if titans are killed. Even newborns can become small reefs or sea stacks. A titan’s bones will continue to grow even after death which leads to absolutely massive archipelagos and eco systems. Some land masses formed by titans include:

- the Boiling Isles [terrestrial titan] formed when an adult titan was struck down by immense magical force

- Jotunheim [aerial titan] the result of a titan warrior being strangled and impaled. Location of Titan Trapper Island

- Purgatory [aquatic titan] formed when an adult titan became trapped in shallow water after being injured in battle

- Archipeligo of Insanity [aerial titan] formed from the bones of a titan killed by a swarm of grimraptors, which are usually only pests

- Isle of Humiliation [terrestrial titan] the result of a young titan becoming impaled on sharp sea stacks. This is a more recent development and the individual was likely one of the few young survivors of the Titan/Archivist conflict.

GROWTH

Titans are able to create life from non-living things, most notably their own eggs. A titan will infuse their magic with a boulder which over time will form into an egg and embryo. Another examples would be the statues in Echoes of the Past.

What makes titan eggs special is that they can hold off on hatching for hundreds of thousands of years, waiting for the perfect conditions. The hatchlings are as helpless as a newborn human and need constant supervision to not get hurt. They mature rather fast, with their growth slowing down around their teenage and adult years.

Titans are considered ‘pups’ until they reach adulthood. They are born with two straight horns that will expand and bend as they get older. For royal titans, the wings will come in during their years as a young adult.

POWERS

Instead of creating things out of thin air, titans warp the elements and world around them in the form of glyphs. Modern witch magic comes from this.

Each variant of titans has their own unique power.

Terrestrial - sonic shouts that explodes outward from their jaws

Aerial - searing fire breath that can melt most materials

Aquatic - inhaling tons of water at a speed that it creates violent whirlpools

All titans have blood that has fused with magic over millions of years of evolution. This blood is so potent with magic that it creates rips in reality if mixed with water.

Titans create life with their own bodies. Upon death, not only will they form land, but new, magical life will emerge from their blood.

CULTURE

Titans value art, specifically murals and sculpture. All throughout titan dens and palaces are marble carvings displaying the many life forms they share the planet with. Murals fill their hatcheries and rooms, and they have several festivals throughout the year to celebrate their creativity.

Will add more to this post as I think of it

[bracketsoffear]

Ylfa Snorgelsson/Red Riding Hood (Dimension 20) "Forced to eat Death/the Big Bad Wolf to survive and absorbed his power (lycanthropy). She dies and is resurrected even more wolf-like, gets mentored by Death, and saves him from being destroyed. She sacrifices the memory of her grandmother—her last tether to humanity—to take up the mantle of the Big Bad Wolf (literally—she’s wearing his skin as a cloak now) and become Death. In doing so, she has a vision of killing her grandmother’s grandmother just as the Big Bad Wolf killed her--but not her, because it wasn’t her time. At the end of the campaign, she divides her human self from her wolf self—the little girl stays behind to have a mortal life, while the other half of Ylfa truly and finally embraces Death. Her story is about her grappling with the horror and grief of loss and death, culminating in her metaphorical death to become “the end of all stories”. Her grandmother was eaten, but “I met Death and Death wants me to live.”"

The Amazing Karnak (Ride the Cyclone) "Karnak is a novelty machine, clearly with sentience, that can predict the exact time and place of somebody's death. He himself was shut down, but successfully predicted the deaths of the St. Cassian Chamber Choir before they died in a rollercoaster accident. Karnak seems to have a limited sort of control over human mortality, as he has the ability to bring people back from the dead, but he himself seems to be trapped in an eternal purgatory, not quite active, not quite defunct. He knows of his own death, of his own mortality, and it doesn't bother him. Despite not being human, he represents human mortality in a strange, awfully comedic way."

Grimora (Inscryption) "Her whole gimmick is inscrybing the dead: skeletons, zombies, ghosts, and souls all have a place in her deck. Her cards are played with the cost of bone tokens (gained from the death of one of the player’s cards), and, in her boss fight, her cards don’t tend to stay dead for long (nor do the player’s, as she takes to killing every card the challenger has in play and returning only their corpses). However, what makes her end-adjacent rather than a defier of the end is her commitment to the cycle of death and what it brings—so much so that she’s willing, immortal as she is, to succumb to her own realm and drag the others along with her. She disguises it as a means to end the Scrybes’ ceaseless quarrel and to kill what lies on the disk, but ultimately she, too, fears death, but knows that everything must one day die all the same (so what if she has to exacerbate the process—she has been very patient for the rest of the game, and the Scrybes have long, LONG outlived the lives of anyone real who would care to remember them)."

[peaceofflights]

“What’s Three Years in the Eyes of Eternity?”

Rated: T for swearing, drug use, making out, slight references to sex.

Warning: slight age gap relationship. (And I made Wally 18).

Pairings: Wally Clark x Reader, Slight Wally Clark x Maddie Nears

Word Count: 4,000 (dear lord how did that happen.)

A/N: Honeslty I love this series and wanted to add some of my own stuff. It’s definitely not beta read so you have been warned. Might go back and edit later, but if I’m being honest probably not. If people like it I’m thinking of making it into a series.

Even though you knew a lot of people who went to Split River High you always felt lucky that you didn’t have to be one of them. Though you wouldn’t call yourself exceptionally talented, growing up in musical theatre gave you a certain edge compared to your peers and landed you across town at an arts school for “gifted” children when it came time for highschool. Before death you could count all the times you had been to the public highschool on one hand, all of which had been to see your brother’s football games. It felt like a long shot when you applied to teach the school’s summer camp of guys and dolls, but when you actually got the job it felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders.

Then again they did pull a weight off your shoulders… well the majority of the catwalk when it collapsed and crushed you to death, but that’s a technicality. Being 21 is hard enough, but being 21 for eternity surrounded by high schoolers, that’s your own personal hell.

Don’t take it the wrong way, all the ghosts were nice enough. You’d think because you and Mina had similar death experiences you would be fast friends…unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Due to her young age you and Mina seemed to only have a love for the arts in common. And unlike you, her accidental death seemed to make Mina bitter, never leaving the theater. Even though the theater felt most like home to you it made the place unbearable to be in, leaving you to roam the halls.

Most days were spent goofing off with Charley. He was a good kid, he reminded you a lot of your friends in highschool. You both liked to think that if you had been in school at the same time you would have been inseparable, but who really knows.

It took Rhonda some time to get used to you. Since you’re both known for a dry sense of humor it took a while to figure out if you were joking or insulting the other. Even still people couldn’t figure out if you were friends or sworn enemies… and honestly you two liked keeping it that way.

Then there was Wally Clark.

Six foot three golden retriever disguised as a jock Wally Clark. It’s funny because you spent your whole life making fun of football players and now you're trapped in purgatory with one. One that was funny, and smart, and always knew how to make you smile. Who if you actually were honest with yourself is the best part of being stuck at Split River High.

It didn’t matter what you two were doing whether it was golf cart joyriding, smoking the weed you found in some weird stoners kids’ lockers, or even learning the moves to dirty dancing (which for some reason there is a copy of stashed in the teacher’s lounge). Life with Wally was good.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was 18.

Something you reminded him of quite often, though Wally always seemed to have his own comebacks.

“What’s three years in the eyes of eternity?”

Or

“Technically I was born in the sixties… I’m older than you.”

Or his personal favorite;

“Can you shut up so we can make out already?”

Yeah, Wally Clark was probably the love of your after life… he just didn’t need to know that. It didn’t matter how many times you turned him down he always came back, patiently waiting for when you would be ready to say yes. It was your routine, and you were more than happy to keep it that way. But I guess Maddie Nears was the day that changed.

—————————

“y/n/n, y/n/n, y/n/n”

You could already hear Wally running down the hall calling your nickname even before he turned the corner. You couldn’t help but laugh and play along.

“Wally, Wally, Wally.”

Suddenly you two were standing face to face, maybe just a step too close for dramatic effect. His over the top waving at you made you crack a smile, making you completely miss the small blonde standing behind him.

“Y/N there is someone I’d like you to meet… Y/N, Maddie, Maddie, Y/N.”

Your smile dropped for all of half a second before you forced it back onto your face. New ghosts might not come very often but they definitely stuck around so you needed to make a good impression. You reached out to shake her hand, she took it and smiled.

She took in your appearance for a moment before cracking a joke; “what are you? Some kind of camp counselor?” Gesturing to your tie dyed shirt and jean shorts.

“Um, yeah actually.” You replied, scratching the back of your head.

You both awkwardly laughed, shifting your weight from side to side, waiting for the conversation to be over. It was clear you two weren’t about to be best friends. But it was one ghost, not much in your life was going to change.

——————————

It felt like your whole life had changed. In the span of a week you went from having your friends whenever you wanted them, to feeling like Maddie was taking up all of their time.

You weren’t dumb, you knew Maddie was going to need friends here too, and if you looked at it objectively there were only so many options for her to choose from. It was stupid to feel jealousy when they hadn’t really gone anywhere at all. It’s not like any of you could roam too far.

But your days spent gossiping with Charley were now spent reading books in the library. And nights of golf carting with Wally were now spent laying alone on the football field gazing at the stars. Even Rhonda seemed too busy for you, all three seemingly absorbed in Maddie’s recent murder.

You were currently on your way to see what Dawn was up to when you heard a familiar sound coming from a classroom.

But it couldn’t be.

You swore your ears were deceiving you until you heard a familiar voice say;

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen Dirty Dancing? Come on Maddie, it’s a classic!”

Your ears weren’t deceiving you at all! That was the sound of Hungry Eyes playing through one of the tv’s dragged into a classroom.

Look it shouldn’t have bothered you, it’s just a stupid movie. Well not a stupid at all, Dirty Dancing was one of the best movies of all time. Maddie was dumb for not having seen it in life, so obviously it was a must watch in her afterlife. But this wasn’t about the movie at all, but what it represented: this was yours and Wally’s movie. The movie you both knew every line to. The movie that you’ve spent years trying to learn the choreography to, and he was watching it with another girl.

“A classic? I don’t know if I would go that far. Was this movie even out when you were alive?”

You should’ve gone in there and yelled at him. You should have told him off for doing your special thing with somebody else. You should have at least listened outside the door to the rest of their conversation, but you didn’t.

——————————

Ever since Maddie joined your little group your life felt like it had been a whirlwind. You didn’t even realize just how much you were missing out on or how much time had passed until you walked into the school gymnasium.

“Shit, is it homecoming already!? I’m sorry Wally, how could I forget?” You exclaimed as you plopped down in front of the hand painted banner the crew was currently working on.

How could you have forgotten about the homecoming game? Despite the game not meaning anything to you, you knew it meant everything to Wally. Sure, you never went to a homecoming game while you were alive, but now that you knew how much it meant to him you spent every year making it as special to Wally as possible.

You along with the rest of the support group made sure to make him feel appreciated. With a homemade banner and decorations, Wally was well celebrated on his death date.

Plus it always made up for the fact that every year he asked you to the homecoming dance, and every year you said no.

“I’m 21, I don’t need to go to another shitty school dance.”

Or

“You really want to go to the dance with the school chaperone?”

So every year Wally went to every school dance alone. And every year you spent the night locked away in some random space blasting Hair or whatever music you could get your hands on.

It was better that way. It helped you keep some remembrance of your old life. It was often difficult to remember you had a life outside the school before you died. And it kept Wally from realizing that he could do so much better than you. The closer he got to you emotionally the more he’d notice he’s way better than the musical theatre dork you are. Even in your adult life you were a loser, you came back to teach summer camp because you couldn’t pay your bills.

“You okay cherry pop, or did the mere sight of lover boy’s ass send you into a coma?”

It wasn’t until you heard Rhonda’s snide remark that you were pulled out of your spiraling thoughts.

That’s when you realized that Wally had left the gym, with Maddie (figures), and you (probably) stared at his ass while he did.

“Hey, what's wrong with you lately? You seem even more moody and distant than usual, and that’s saying something coming from you.”

You shrugged at Rhonda’s words “I don’t really want to talk about.”

“You think I want to talk through your oh woe is me crap? Trust me I don’t. But I’m getting tired of dealing with everyone’s stupid problems by myself, so spill tootsie roll.”

Your second shrug of the conversation had Rhonda groaning, but quickly cut herself off when she realized what all this was about.

“That is what this is about? You know for a college girl you really are stupid. Do you really think Wally could ever replace you? That boy hasn’t stopped drooling since your heart stopped. If you were half as smart as you think you are you’d get your head out of your ass and finally go lay one on him.”

And just as quickly as the conversation with Rhonda started she was out of the door. But this time you knew your friend was right, you needed to fix the situation and fast.

—————————-

In a way you were killing two birds with one stone. There was no way you could go to the game in your t-shirt and shorts, for some reason even ghosts got cold. But looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror dressed in lost and found stolen jeans and Wally’s jacket you couldn’t help but feel confident.

You knew it was cheesy to show up to Wally’s football game wearing his letterman jacket and express your undying love for him. But you knew Wally, and he was absolutely going to love it.

You gave yourself one more once over before you decided to head out, trying to fix your forever slightly sweaty hair from the hot summer sun. This was it, this was your moment.

As the game started you quickly snuck out to the bleachers to hide out until the perfect moment. This part was nerve racking, but also probably your favorite. Watching Wally in his element was enduring and made you think about all the time you had missed out on by his side, all because you were too stubborn to tell him the truth. You ducked down as you saw him start to climb the bleachers to sit down next to his mother, but seemed to be caught by an entirely different ghost.

“Girl, I hardly recognized up here all by yourself in your-“

Charley cut himself off when he noticed what you were wearing.

“Has he seen it yet?” He asked with a special glint in his eyes.

Your cool and collected attitude was thrown out the window as the strong blush on your cheeks gave you away. “No, he hasn’t. I was waiting until he was done with his quality time with his mom to surprise him. It’s not too much is it? I know I should have just sat him down and told him-“

“No, no, no trust me, he’s going to love it. That boy is going to die when he sees you.”

“Hasn’t he already done that?” You softly laughed at your own joke, but Charley just deadpans at you, rubbing his temples dramatically like you’re the Bain of his existence.

“You’re gooood.” He quickly drops his annoyed act to smile warmly at you. “Wally lives for grand gestures, he might actually cry.”

You just smiled at your friend. He’s right about one thing, if Wally loves anything it’s a grand gesture, and now felt like the best time to do it, but as you scan the bleachers you realize he’s nowhere to be seen.

————————————

It felt like eternity until you finally found Wally. The game ended about thirty minutes prior when you finally see him walking behind the stadium, extra swagger to his step.

“Hey Wally! I’ve been looking for you all over! What’s got you in such a fantastic mood?” You giggled to yourself like a schoolgirl, this is it.

“I just asked Maddie to the homecoming dance and she said yes! You know as friends, I mean we’re going as friends. But she’s new and I figured it would be nice for her to know she has a friend In the afterlife. It also gives me someone to go to the dance with and -“ he continued to ramble on but you were no longer listening.

Your heart felt like it lived at the bottom of your stomach. It was silly of you to assume that he’d still want to go to the dance with you after how many times you’ve rejected him. It’s silly that at your age you want to go to the dance at all. These were things you never even thought about in your adult life, but here you were about to cry because some stupid 18 year old jock would rather go with a girl who was willing to immediately agree to a date with him instead of some bitch who’s turned him down how many times in the last fifteen years. Yes it all made perfect sense to you, but it didn’t stop you from wanting to cry yourself to sleep in the girls locker room.

“Hey, is that my jacket?” His words finally took hold in your ears.

“Um yeah!” You stuttered. “My clothes aren’t exactly weather appropriate, and I figured you wouldn’t need it tonight. I hope that was okay.”

“Yeah of course! That’s what friends are for!” He smiled, ruffling your hair before moonwalking out.

———————————

Of all the things you thought you would do this year, getting help from Mina wasn’t even on your metaphorical bingo sheet. But there you were, a hour before the dance having Mina help you sew together a dress fit for homecoming.

You thought it would take a lot more to get her to help you, but her assessment of the situation was simple.

“All technical work is underappreciated by the actors.”

You weren’t sure how that translated to your current conversation, but she wasn’t wrong. We were both stagehands, and stagehands stuck together.

With an extra set of hands putting together a dress wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, and for the first time since your death you were ready for the homecoming dance.

——————————

Running your fingers over your baby pink dress you spotted the others standing in a circle by the punch bowl. You wiped the sweat from your hands onto your bodice before making your way over to them. If you had a functioning heart it would be beating faster than ever before.

“Hey guys, fancy seeing you here” You smiled, stealing a sip of Charley’s drink. Your false sense of chill would make others believe you did this every year, but the tapping of your heel on the floor made it obvious that you did not.

“Fancy seeing you here? That’s all you’ve got to say? You look gorgeous!” Charley the ever kind soul that he is says, giving you a half hug in the process.

“You do baby cakes! Who knew you had such nice tits under all that tie dye.” Rhonda’s voice cracked in her signature vocal fry, pinching at your waist trying to get a better look at your figure.

“Mhm” You smiled. “I’ve missed out on a lot of these things. I definitely owe it to my friends to make up on some lost time.” You looked directly at Wally as you finished your sentence, he swallowed hard before averting his gaze. He quickly put on a false over the top smile and grabbed Maddie’s hand while she was taking a sip of her punch. “Come on Maddie let’s dance!”

———————————

Wally POV

Wally laughed as he tossed and turned Maddie around the room flamboyantly, but couldn’t help but watch you through the corner of his eye sighing into your punch as you twirl your pinky finger along the glass.

“You know I think you came with the wrong girl.” Maddie said, breaking Wally from his trance.

“What?”

“Ever since she walked into the room you can’t stop staring at her. It’s clear that you like her. Wally we came as friends, if you want to go ask her to dance it’s not going to hurt my feelings.”

Wally wiggled Maddie’s arms with humor but the look on his face was anything but.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, she’s made it very clear she’s not interested. Do you know how many times she’s turned me down in the last fifteen years? Way too many times for me to deem her into me.” He stated as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“All I’m saying is that a girl doesn’t wear your jacket to your death date and show up to a dance she’s never once wanted to go to unless she’s at least a little bit interested.”

“Or something like that.” Wally replied back before smacking his happy go lucky façade back on attempting to teach Maddie his moonwalk moves.

———————

Y/N POV

That’s when you heard it, your song.

“And this one was requested by that weird kid, you know who you are. Next time put on a tie.” The dj said dramatically in the annoying voice only dj’s are allowed to talk in.

“(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” begins to vibrate through the gym as Maddie Nears comes to stand next to you.

“I had Simon request the song for you.” Maddie says simply looking off into the distance with you at Wally and the rest of your friends across the room, you had been too busy sulking to sit with them.

“I know it’s kind of your guy’s song.” She continues; “ I figured you two could use a little push.”

You're immediately puzzled. “How did you-“

“That dude is absolutely obsessed with you.” She smiled. “Plus when we watched the movie he wouldn’t shut up about the fact that it was your favorite and you guys had spent the last fifteen years memorizing the choreography, it only felt right.”

You gave her a big hug before whispering in her ear “thank you”.

“Now hurry up” she laughed, “This song is only like five minutes long.”

You rolled your eyes at her before making your way across the room. Yes, this was dramatic, and yes it should have embarrassed you, but for once it didn’t. When you finally made it across what felt like an ocean of people you tapped Wally on the shoulder even though he was already looking at you, stretched out your hand and said;

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner”

Wally smiled before shaking his head and grabbed your hand leading to the middle of the dance floor.

It didn’t matter that the song was already halfway over, you started your choreography regardless, laughing the whole way through it. Every part of it felt like a flirtatious inside joke. It made you realize just how much you missed your best friend. You held him as close to you as you could in peaceful silence until he stepped back from you three steps nodding his head. This of course was the best part so you nodded back and started stepping backwards.

As he lovingly put it each time, if you fell you fell. He would always break your fall, you were both dead anyway. However, just like actual Johnny and Baby you had practiced the move in the pool countless times before you got it right. Now despite the time away from the routine you trusted that both of you knew this lift like the back of your hand, and you were not disappointed when you got a running head start into your jump and were caught gracefully by a strong set of arms.

When Wally placed you down onto the ground again he smiled, pulling you as close as humanly possible.

“You know, I always thought the point of us learning this dance was so we could pull it out at every school function and show all these other losers who’s who.” He laughed clearly, making a joke out of the unspoken.

“They can’t see us anyway” You smirked, resting your arms around his shoulders. “But you're right, I’m sorry it took me this long to come to the dance with you.”

“Sweetheart, have you already forgotten? Maddie is my date to dance.” He smiled, lovingly pushing you away before grabbing you again as fast as he could.

“But I can give you the next best thing,” he said, looking down at you. “Be my date next year?”

“I can do you one better,” You smiled. “Go to prom with me?”

“I don’t knowwwww darling, might bring down my popularity to go to the prom with a chaperone.”

“Hey Wally?” You boink him very lightly on the nose. “Can you shut up so we can make out already?”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His mouth was on yours in less time than you had to take a breath. Immediately you feel like you need to breathe but if lack of oxygen is your only problem right now then you’ll gladly take it.

His arms moved from rubbing up and down your arms to slowly being snaked around your waist pulling you in tight. You stayed wrapped up in his musky scent for what felt like eternity. You felt his hands slowly start to migrate south when you hear a low whistle from behind you.

“Alright kids break it up, nobody here wants to watch you two defile each other on top of the snack bar.” Of course Rhonda would be the one to break the two of you up after pawing at each other like cats in heat. But she was right about one thing, you definitely felt like a kid again in the best possible way.

“Haha laugh it up Rhonda, you’re just jealous. I know everyone wants to ride the pony.” He smirked, giving her a joking wink.

“Alright Stallion.” You said patting him on the shoulder. “Time to go.”

“Where are we going?” He asked as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“The teacher’s lounge.” You said giving him a similar wink he just gave to your friends.

While you tried to catch your breath as he dragged you through the halls at dare you say a record pace, you realized Split River High might not be as bad as you thought