#impact Pulverizer

[creatureindustry4u]

A pulverizer machine is an essential piece of equipment in commercial kitchens, particularly those that deal with a variety of spices, grains, and other food items requiring fine grinding. This machine is designed to pulverize materials into fine powders, enhancing the texture and consistency of various dishes. A pulverizer machine as an atta chakki plant is a smart addition to any commercial kitchen aiming to produce fresh, high-quality flour in-house. By incorporating this versatile machine, you can enhance the efficiency and consistency of flour production, leading to better quality dishes and improved overall kitchen operations.

[seoagency26]

Impact Pulverizer: Now Grind All Spices for Your Business

Impact Pulverizer is a grinding gadget that we use to make the best powder of spices. you could grind turmeric, chilli, coal, gram flour, salt and many extra using this system. This device is generally used in exclusive kinds of industries like pharmaceuticals, chemical compounds, food processing, and minerals processing and so on. these machines are able to grinding a extensive range of minerals, chemicals, spices, herbs, prescribed drugs and plastics.

Impact Pulverizer machines come in different designs and functions, consisting of hammer mill, impact mill and cage mill and so forth. every system gives specific benefits primarily based on its functions. maximum of these machines already come with some special capabilities which includes adjustable pace, interchangeable displays or liners for controlling particle length, and are also loaded with functions that contend with your protection, and so forth.

Read More: Impact Pulverizer

[jasenterprise]

Leading Food Processing Machinery Manufacturer In Ahmedabad

Food Machinery Manufacturer. We have been manufacturing high-quality pulverizing, grinding, and crushing equipment for the particle size reduction sector since Jas Enterprise was founded in 1990. Our Techno Wings brand crushing, grinding, and pulverizing tools use blades, beaters, or hammers. We provide long-lasting precision grinding equipment that are extremely trustworthy and effective. Your feeding and grinding capabilities can be expanded and improved by using our Techno Wings Feeder, Cryogenic Feeder, and Techno Wings crusher, grinders, or pulverizers in addition to our crushing, grinding, and pulverizing equipment.

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Speedrunning the Fontinalia festival in Genshin made me think of the possibility of a similar TWST event, where we make a film alongside the characters.

Maybe a Vil hometown event, where we can meet his father and create a film via twstunes, with the main problem being Vil's old bullies trying to sabotage the production/ compete in the film festival.

Since it's in the Shaftlands, it can even be a Vil, Jack AND Cater hometown event, with each of them bringing a few classmates (Vil brings Ortho and Epel to help with filming, Jack and Ruggie drag Leona along, and Cater brought Riddle because there's a festival with SWEETS). The groups all run into each other in the fair and come together to create the film, based on Beauty and the Beast.

Funny moments include Leona and Vil bickering, Cater as the lead actor, Riddle using magic for special effects, the bullies running for their lives because they insulted Vil, causing Ortho, Epel, Jack and Riddle to get mad, etc.

They also got snowed in for a night at an abandoned castle near the outskirts of the town. Most of the film took place there.

[46hasu]

The Percy Jackson show had me thinking of this old Genshin Half Blood Camp AU that was buzzing in my brain some months ago. Originally I had Diluc as Ares/Athena son. But now I'm realizing what a blind fool I was to overlook the sheer comedic potential of making Diluc Dionysus' son. Not to mention the fact that if anyone and I mean anyone can catch the attention of Dionysus it would be the head of the biggest wine company in all of Teyvat, Crepus Ragnvindr.

[purplepenguintime]

I think all the “Heizou craves violence” jokes are so funny because, canonically, this man hates violence. Like he learnt martial arts against his will from his father. He will literally use every last iota of brainpower to make sure he won’t have to gut a man. 

[veerbaagro]

Transform Chana Dal into Golden Besan| Besan Plants Manufacturers

Are you looking to enter the lucrative besan market? Invest in a top-quality besan plant. Leading manufacturers offer advanced machinery, from small-scale to industrial capacities. These plants ensure efficient production, high-quality output, and minimal wastage. Choose the right equipment to meet your production goals and cater to the growing demand for this versatile flour. Tap on the  link for more details about Besan Plants Manufacturers.

[yannawayne]

not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.

The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.

There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce. 

His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.

Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor. 

Damian couldn't see anything but red.

His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream. 

A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.

Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.

One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air. 

"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.

"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"

Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."

He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest. 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”

Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.

“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”

The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.

Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.

The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.

When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.

Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.

Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.

From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy. 

The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles. 

Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged.  He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.

A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.

It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.

Then there was you.

The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said. 

At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.

Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope. 

You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.

To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.

You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.

You made him feel things—things he should not.

When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.

Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear. 

And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.

A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.

He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.

Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.

Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.

“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."

Love. His father called it.

In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you. 

He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate. 

Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.

“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”

“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”

Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”

“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face. 

He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.

Love.

He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.

Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.

His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.

At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.

Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

ao3: yenwayne

NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'

It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.

Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.

His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.

I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.

So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)

[tobiasdrake]

Which DBZ antagonist do you like the most?

Boring opinion, I know, but I gotta give it up for the Obvious Choice.

And I'm not just saying that because I haven't had a chance to talk about him yet.

Frieza runs a real estate empire that carries out genocidal acts of gentrification, purging tracts of land of their native inhabitants so he can sell their land for profit. Commenting on this choice for his ultimate villain, Akira Toriyama stated that he made this decision because real estate speculators are the worst people there are.

Fucking based.

From the moment we meet Frieza, he is a monster. Toriyama likes this Big Guy Little Guy dynamic where the Little Guy is the one you really need to watch out for. Frieza is the Littlest Guy ever.

He's so tiny. And yet you know exactly who the most dangerous person in this group is. Zero question.

By the end of this altercation, Frieza reveals one of his signature attacks, giving us our first glimpse of the kind of person and the kind of fighter he is. This is such an important moment for his character and I'm kinda mad that the anime had Dodoria do it instead.

Muri destroys the Scouters and blinds Frieza. I've talked before at length about the devastating impact that this move and the Namekian warriors' attack has on Frieza's campaign.

But once it's done, he has to face the music. He's not getting out of this alive.

In one last desperation play, Muri tells Cargo and Dende to run while blocking them with his body. And that's when it happens.

This is Frieza.

Specifically, this is Frieza's Death Beam. It's never actually given a name, but is generally referred to as Death Beam. We've seen a move like this only once before.

The Dodonpa, signature technique of Tsuru-senryu, first introduced by the assassin Taopaipai, was built for extreme lethality. This is not a technique for fighting; It's a technique for killing.

What makes Frieza's Death Beam stand out from the Dodonpa, however, is its accuracy and its speed. He threads the needle around Muri to hit Cargo before anyone even has a chance to react.

We see its accuracy and speed again six days later, when it finally catches up to the other child fleeing from him here.

The panelwork here calling attention to everyone's reactions as Frieza's ki bullet shoots past them, as his shot threads the needle between all obstacles in his path to strike his target far behind them. Dende is dead before anyone can even process that Frieza fired.

This is the difference between the two techniques. The Dodonpa is a gun. The Death Beam is a sniper rifle. Faced with the physical hurdle of bodies impeding his path, Frieza point-clicked Cargo and Dende to death.

He later executes Vegeta this same way.

Done with you.

All of this context for Frieza's sniping shot serves to set up the stunning subversion when Goku arrives to fight.

Frieza's never seen this before. Goku shouldn't even be able to see the shots coming until they've perforated his lungs. That's how Death Beam works. It's this moment that lays it out: Frieza's about to be tested like he's never been tested before.

Speaking of cool techniques, I've always been partial to this move from his Third Form.

The anime gives Frieza little ki bullets coming out of his fingers but I want to note that we never see a physical projectile when he's doing this. Frieza jams his fingers back and forth in the air while something pulverizes Piccolo.

I've always imagined he's poking the air so fast that it's hitting Piccolo with pressurized air currents. Similar to Goku's Mazoku air current punch from the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai.

But that's just me.

In any case, Frieza's got some fun moves. He's something of a hobbyist martial artist. Which is to say, Frieza has an interest in martial arts. In addition to his Death Beam, Frieza's concocted a litany of other interesting techniques.

He even invented the Kienzan, independently of Krillin.

Though he can remote operate his Kienzan so it's strictly better than Krillin's. Frieza, in his spare time, has come up with a bunch of cool moves. Too bad he has no idea how to use them.

Frieza's greatest weakness is his inexperience. He practices martial arts the way a business CEO who bought a log splitter so he can cut some wood and feel woodsy practices agriculture. Frieza has never had a proper chance to truly experience martial arts, because he was born too powerful.

The only partner who's ever even dirtied his skin was his dad.

And even that isn't much. Frieza's too strong. He wants to pursue martial arts. He wants to hone his technique. But when you win every fight by blinking too hard in the opponent's direction, what even is there to practice?

Frieza created a transformation to seal away his immeasurable ki because he was born with so much ki flowing from him that he can't even contain it. At his peak, Frieza's ki bleeds out of him. He simply can't contain it.

Goku wonders aloud why Frieza took so long, even after the fight turned against him, to go to 100%. Frieza's been all "Oh I'm only using 10% power this is my 50% you made me go to 75%" and Goku's like, "Okay. My dude. What's this about, for real?

This, incidentally, is not a great translation. What Goku's saying here is supposed to be basically, "Perhaps when you use your full power, your body can't handle it."

He is correct.

Frieza's Full Power has a lot in common with Super Saiyan 3. His theoretical maximum ability is wildly different from the reality of what he's capable of, because he bleeds ki like it's going out of style.

So, while other characters wound up earning transformations that make them more powerful, Frieza created a transformation to seal away some of his incomprehensible ki.

Then he created a couple more because even though he could now control his strength and even manipulate the amount of ki he's releasing at a time, he was still too powerful for anyone to ever compete with and needed even more ki sealed away.

Again, not a fantastic translation from the people who brought us "bottom-tier boy", as Frieza's statement here could be interpreted as saying that he gets taken by a berserker rage or something.

What he's saying is more like, "My power is so great that I can't properly contain it."

Point is, Frieza transformed to lock down his ki and seal parts of it away, so he could control the rest better. Then he kept going, locking away more and more and more of his ki. And even at his most nerfed, he's still five times more powerful than the Second Strongest Guy in the Universe.

Frieza has never in his life had the opportunity to be pushed. That's what makes Goku so enthralling to him.

Frieza plays with Goku because he's genuinely having the time of his life. This guy can fight him in his Final Form. Nobody can fight him in his Final Form. He's so happy, he straight-up forgets that he's trying to complete a genocide against Goku's entire race.

He said that five minutes ago. Gohan's hidden power freaked Frieza the fuck out. Saiyans are too strong now. They've gotten too strong. Frieza cannot permit them to keep existing because they're getting strong. Every last Saiyan, every last one, must die. Every single one. Scorched earth, no survivors.

But then he meets a Saiyan martial artist who's a technical master and pushes him more than he ever thought possible and suddenly:

He goes from "Saiyans are TOO STRONG and they all must die because they might threaten me" to "OH MY GOD I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN CAN I KEEP YOU!?"

It's this desire for a true rival, this opportunity to satisfy his amateur's curiosity about martial arts, that ultimately unravels him. Frieza has one ruthless and pragmatic option for ending this fight once it starts to be too much for him. He can technically stop the fight any time he wants.

But he can't bring himself to do it. He wants to fight. He wants to compete. Frieza's been on the outside looking in at martial arts for his entire life and even when his greatest fears are fulfilled and the Super Saiyan is in front of him, he wants to try.

So when he does attempt to pull his Lethal Ragequit, he pulls back at the last second. He can't bring himself to do it. Goku initially assesses that Frieza held back out of fear of hurting himself.

But later, as Frieza begins unlocking the final chains on his ki, Goku changes his assessment. Noting that if Frieza really held back simply out of a mistake, he could have shot the planet again at any point to finish the job. He's been letting this play out because he can't bring himself to end the greatest fight of his life that way.

This fight is still happening because Frieza wants to compete. I mean, he wants to win, of course, but he wants to win as a martial artist. He's never truly gotten to be a martial artist before.

He is not the guy winning the gold medal at the Tenkaichi Budokai. He has never been that guy. He's the guy who buys up the land the Tenkaichi Budokai is held on and then bulldozes all the people off of it. But in his heart of hearts, he wants to be that guy. That guy is so cool. Frieza wants to play too.

In a sense, by hosting the Cell Games, Cell got to live Frieza's greatest fantasy.

This is who Frieza is. He's the cruel and wicked heir to Genocide Realtors Inc., who is in love with the idea of being Tenshinhan - A desire that exists at odds with - and undermines - his pragmatic business sense, so to speak.

He is the most vile character in the history of Dragon Ball. The worst kind of person. He is also an overeager child whose wealth and privilege prevents him from ever truly enjoying his hobbies, to an extent that he'd be almost pitiable but for all the genocides.

And he is Dragon Ball's greatest villain.

[artbyblastweave]

Still playing Skyrim. And I’m interested to report that the game is actually better than I remember, on balance. But I’m kind of fascinated by what’s going on with Lydia, mechanically and narratively.

Lydia is the first follower who gets shoved in your face just by virtue of following the main quest. There are others you can pick up earlier, but not without finishing errands (for Faendal and Sven), by forking up a pretty big chunk of change for the early game by hiring Janessa, or by going out of your way in some other manner. If you’re completely new to the game and you’re just powering through the main story as it’s presented, she’s the first option for a follower that the game highlights for you in giant blinking neon lights. And as a quest reward, she’s mechanically kind of a godsend at that point in the story; a doubling of carry capacity, an excellent meat shield and distraction, a way to extract utility from weapons and armor you don’t want to use yourself. More subjectively she provides the impression of a stalwart ally or companion in what can be a very lonely worldspace to exist in. There’s very little reason not to take her with you, and once you have her, the majority of companions being equal, there’s very little reason to get rid of her until she stops level scaling.

Despite the mechanical utility Lydia provides at a crucial point, and the resultant likelyhood that you’ll haul her along for the ride, she’s only a couple steps up from the companion cube. She has no specific, non-fungible impact on the narrative beyond demonstrating Jarl Balgruuf’s favor. Her deferral to you is automatic; if someone is actively paying her a salary to help you defile graves, cut deals with every deity on the continent and invade the afterlife, it sure as hell isn’t you. It isn’t clear what her gig under Balgruuf was before she was assigned to you. She has no personal narrative. She has no personal side quest. One of her biggest inklings of personality is when she expresses vague dissatisfaction with being treated as a pack mule, but then she does it anyway.  She’s party to world-shaking events and political upheavals, but she’s present purely in her capacity as your appendix, so reality simply treats her as your plus-one. 

She’ll block doors you’re trying to get through, and she’ll get mad at you if you push her out of the way. She’ll charge into battle or set off traps while you’re trying to sneak. She’ll microaggress you with stock Nord dialogue while pulverizing your enemies, a plurality of whom are also Nords. She’ll distract bosses long enough to buy you breathing room for a healing spell or a potion. You’ll kill her by accident with an ill-timed area-of-effect spell, roll your eyes, and, ultimately, probably reload your save. Because she might only be a couple steps up from a companion cube, but the whole gag with the companion cube is how ridiculously low the threshold is for the audience to get genuinely attached to something in a video game. A thin character invites apophenia. Behaviors that are purely downstream of dev thoughtlessness will still imply character traits if taken at Watsonian Face Value. In this case, inexplicable undying loyalty, reserved comments on impressive landmarks, and comical stoicism in the face of some of the weirdest events it’s conceptually possible to encounter.  So here’s to weird, underbaked companions in Bethesda Games, and everything we can project onto the void they provide. And Here’s to that related genus of character- units in squad-based tactics or management-sim games with permadeath mechanics who last long enough and accumulate enough equipment, skill points, etc. that they become your Special Little Guy despite otherwise lacking any deliberate character traits.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Some Eula and Dehya angst to fluff where they’re trapped in a cave with their badly injured S/O who starts to break down and say they’re scared.

(Genshin Impact) Eula, and Dehya getting trapped with their injured S/O

Eula's heart aches the moment she hears her S/O's voice shaking, alongside their injuries.

Part of her feels like this cave-in was her fault. If she was more observant, then they could've avoided this mess.

But she knows better than to self loathe. S/O needed her now, and that's what she was going to do.

(Eula) "Look at me, S/O. You will not die, not while I'm still here."

She gives their hand a reassuring squeeze before kissing their forehead, and nodding.

Honestly, with her vision and strength, she could pulverize any boulders blocking their path. But that could cause the cave-in to get worse, and she was going to get them out without any further harm.

What good is being a reconnaissance captain if she couldn't scout a safer way out?

(Eula) "Grab my hand, and don't let go. If you need to sit down to rest, let me know immediately, got it?"

Dehya grabs a hold of S/O, firmly enough to get their attention, but not so hard that it'd make them get hurt or panic even more.

(Dehya) "Shhh! Hey, hey! Listen to me, you're going to be okay! We'll get out of this stupid cave, and then I'll make sure to treat you to something nice, alright?"

Truthfully, her heart was absolutely pounding, they didn't look great, and seeing them panic made Dehya want to comfort them more than anything.

Sand caves were common in the desert, and while she had her fair share of getting stuck in them before, it was something she'd still rather avoid.

After helping them up, she bridal carries them for the moment, making sure they wouldn't trip and fall.

(Dehya) "Stick close. I may need to sit you down a couple times as we go by, so save your strength."

[craftingcreatures]

Some sketchy concept stuff that I'm posting because I liked it but couldn't be bothered to refine it into an actual artwork.

These submarine behemoths are the Mermares (Clade Euhippocampiformes), secondarily aquatic descendants of the domestic donkey. The group first appeared around 29 million years post-cataclysm, in the late Nerian stage of the Diluvian period. They evolved from an animal called the Seabra, a descendant of the Donkey which adapted to exploit a niche with, thus far, zero competition - that of a large marine herbivore.

On earth, marine ecosystems are notable for the distinct lack of vascular plant life, a condition caused by a number of factors - most notably the osmotic stress caused by the saltwater. Most photosynthesis is carried out by algae. On Spero, however, things are different. Because Spero's oceans were generated relatively recently, from extraterrestrial ice particles, there just hasn't been enough time for erosion and the water cycle to deposit dissolved minerals in the water. As a result, Spero's seas are made of freshwater - a much more tolerable condition for most plants, and thus the diversity of marine vascular plants is much, much higher than on earth. Also, due to the flatness of the flooded landscape and lack of any real tectonic features, enormous swathes of the seabed lie within the photic zone, less than 200 meters from the surface. Thus, endless expanses of marine grasslands - the "seagrass prairies" - extend from the shore, often for hundreds of miles before the water finally gets too deep for photosynthesis to occur.

All of this plant life is an extremely attractive prospect for herbivores, and it was likely what drew the ancestral Seabra to forage in shallow coastal meadows in the first place. But as the oceans got deeper and life adapted, the Seabra had to adapt in kind - their hind legs rotated backwards to act as a pair of propulsive flukes, their forelimbs developed into steering flippers, and their nostrils retreated to sit on their foreheads.

One notable feature of the Mermares is hyperphalangy, a condition where the fingers have too many bones. It's very common in large marine tetrapods in Earth's history - whales and dolphins, Ichthyosaurs, Plesiosaurs, and Mosasaurs all exhibited hypoerphalangy to some degree - and seems to be associated with the specialization of the limbs into flippers. We would expect to see similar patterns in marine lineages on Spero. What's unique about the Mermares, however, is the sheer number of extra phalanges in the finger; at least fifteen in the shorter-finned species, and more than thirty in the longest-finned forms. And because Mermares - being equids - only possess one digit per limb, the result is a single long chain of flat, squarish bones which, in some cases, can reach over forty feet long - the longest arms ever to exist.

These ridiculous appendages produce a lot of drag and are merely adequate for steering and stabilization. So why do the Mermares have them?

The answer is that they're weapons. And particularly devastating ones, at that.

Mermares use their flagellating flippers as bludgeons, against both predators and conspecifics. The flippers are connected to powerful neck muscles and can be swung forward with impressive force; combined with a well-timed twisting of the giant horse's torso, the huge flippers can impact hard enough to shatter bone and pulverize flesh. The flippers themselves do not escape unscathed, and older individuals often have scarred or mangled flipper-tips from numerous battles over the years; but it's a small price to pay for survival.

When not being used against their enemies, the flippers may be folded back against the sides of the animal to reduce drag, or used as props to keep the animal's belly up off the seabed when feeding. Mermares spend up to 18 hours per day grazing, using their long neck to crop aquatic grasses and other vegetation in a wide arc without moving their bodies and occasionally dipping up to the surface to breathe. Mermares are keystone species in the seagrass prairies; as hindgut fermenters, they are not as efficient at processing plant matter as ruminants like goats, and produce large amounts of nutrient-rich dung which acts as fertilizer for the meadows and helps keep the environment productive. The dung also acts as food for a variety of fish and invertebrates.

Let's look at some of the Mermare's diversity, shall we?

Drepanarion (center right) One of the smaller Mermares, Drepanarion nonetheless grows to nearly 12 meters (39 feet) long. It is immediately recognizable by the bold black-and-yellow striping on the heads and necks of the stallions, and by the tall, narrow nuchal crest which extends from the withers and makes the stocky body look even more powerful. Unlike most other Mermares, which live in small groups of less than ten individuals, Drepanarion can be found in herds of over a hundred in the seagrass prairies of the Savanian (41 - 50 million years post-cataclysm). These nomadic throngs graze patches of seagrass nearly to the roots before moving on, giving the ecosystem time to regrow before returning in a few years' time. Drepanarion exhibits the most extreme sexual dimorphism of any Mermare, with stallions being both larger and more brightly coloured than mares; during the annual rut, males will fight each other in brutal bludgeoning matches to establish dominance and secure mates. To this end, they have some of the most extreme flipper anatomy of any Mermare; though not especially long (indeed, they have the shortest flippers of any derived genera), each phalanx bone has a protruding bony tubercle on the anterior edge which extends into a keratinous knob. These knobs both protect the flipper during combat and focus the force of the blow into a smaller area, dealing more damage.

Hipposeidon (bottom left) First appearing in the early Imberian (50 million years post-cataclysm), Hipposeidon is the largest of all Mermares and, indeed, the largest animal ever to exist on Spero, with stallions regularly reaching over 24 meters (80 feet) long (mares are slightly smaller). Extremely large specimens may even reach 30 meters (100 feet), although this is rare. This ludicrous size - nearly rivaling even the mighty Blue Whale of Earth - is possible only due to the sheer abundance of its food. Hipposeidon appears at the height of the seagrass prairie's extent, and can pack away almost 900 kilograms (1900 pounds) of seagrass per day. This superlative food requirement has important consequences for Hipposeidon's behaviour; this animal is migratory. Seagrass prairies are extremely productive ecosystems, but nonetheless Spero is a seasonal world; as the summer growth gives way to the winter die-back, the greatest of the Mermares must migrate across the equator to seek out a continuous food source to fuel its immense bulk. In this way Hipposeidon experiences a perpetual summer, interrupted only by the biannual migration from north to south and back again. Female Hipposeidon are pregnant for about one year, timing the birth of the single large foal with arrival to the feeding grounds; the six-meter-long foal enjoys a long childhood nursing and playing in shallow summer waters, gathering strength before making the long swim across the barren tropical zone to pastures new.

Bathypegasus (top left) The last and possibly the weirdest of the great Mermares, Bathypegasus is the only member of the clade which is not a grazer. Instead, it is a specialist feeder on pelagic, free-floating ferns. These ferns are a seasonal bounty, growing in huge numbers in the tropical summers of the late Imberian (60 million years post-cataclysm), where the planetary ring system shades out large portions of the planet for half the year. A close relative of Hipposeidon, Bathypegasus has left its ties to the seabed behind, becoming a fast, powerful swimmer which spends most of its life far above the sea floor. Its flippers have adapted to be even more ludicrously long - the longest forearms of any animal, ever, with each one measuring nearly 14 meters (45 feet) in length and each containing at least 35 individual bones. No longer used to prop the animal up off the seabed, these whiplike flippers are narrow and streamlined and can be whipped through the water at speeds of nearly 20 meters per second (that's over 40 mph) - the most extreme weaponry of any Mermare, and used to great effect against predators. Bathypegasus, like Hipposeidon, is migratory, following the blooms of pelagic ferns across Spero's oceans. Thanks to this midwater diet it is the only genus of Mermare to survive past the mid-Imberian extinction, when rising sea levels and steepening coastal slopes caused the seagrass prairies to disappear. Bathypegasus finally died out in the Ultimoxerian stage, around 75 million years post-cataclysm, the last and weirdest of the giant marine horses.

[opbackgrounds]

Bones don't weigh a whole lot, so Brook must have been falling at terminal velocity and have an adamantium skeleton to avoid being pulverized into dust upon impact

[hexhomos]

Can I ask...what actually happens with Viktor in S2?? I keep hearing people being really vague about it being Bad but I haven't seen the leaks and now cannot find out anything that isn't just someone saying they won't say anything;; I just want to temper my expectations bc I was only excited for S2 for his storyline (+ Jayce interactions) and I'm getting the impression they don't do.....much?? with it?

spoiling stuff for real under the cut

As of ep5, Viktor:

-Doesn't have his mask or armor

-Has no outspoken ideological drive

-Has never once expressed interest in the traditional venues of transhumanism ocurring all around him

-Never made blitzcrank, never did shit ONSCREEN

-The only tangible reference we get to the machine herald is this shot of cards back on s1:

I genuinely dont know if he has even 5 full minutes of actual footage across all of these episodes lmfao...

His contributions to the story are, in sequence:

-stuck in stasis. jayce waits by his bedside for over an episode

-emerges from coma, immediately rebuffs all of jayce’s warm affectionate advances to the point its a little comical. looks like a dried grape, barely any bigger. declares that he's mad over not being left to DIE; he has to go away now. he hears... her voice! oh! that girl who spoke one time in s1 and that he ignored in every scene!

-left the lab buttnaked and barefoot with a blanket jayce wrapped around him to explore the streets on zaun. a bunch of sick homeless guys (who are, of course, shimmer addicts, see my note about war on terror) think he must be augmented so they want to kill him for scraps and parts. But they dont know that viktor is jesus now. he turns his stigmata palm to that guy who sold out caitlyn in s1 and proceeds to magically cure the lepers.

-this is his last scene for a little while. we Hear Of Him when one of the disabled councilors is looking for ways to deal with his pain from the accident. arcane loves looking over the shoulder of the rich and powerful like they are the main drivers and movers of the story

-like an hour of footage later, jayce reemerges (from a nexus-type of situation) and he finds one of Viktor’s servants -- its that councilor guy-- doing something unspecified. He's surprised to see jayce and tells him that he may speak to viktor; viktor says he misses him and wants to see him and basically "my bad man i was tripping when i said that shit to you the writers needed some lazy disagreement point," but he sounds really cult-leader sleazy and jayce is really mad over being left behind. Jayce is having some flashbacks to void monsters in the other side and tells servant guy he's not allowed to let him go. Servant councilor guy says well too bad! Im going! So jayce pulverizes him with his hammer. based jayce. he looks like brown bearded dante from devil may cry

That's the ep5 clifhanger. i think you can tell how i feel.

My predictions are as follows: jayce tracks him down to his lair and we get a showdown that is a vague reference to their original character bios battle; the one where viktor sics a bunch of brainwashed people on him and the building falls over everyone from the impact. It's possible that viktor is still not wearing his armor, and in this altercation jayce beats him up so bad or dismembers him enough that in act 3 he will have built one. That feels insulting to me but they legitimately have been very lazy.

oh and jayce also has a magical stigmata now. i hope they get to scissor those things together

[ninibeingdelulu]

Mission failed ✧

Plot: You’re about to die… when your captain come to save you.

A/N: this one’s more angsty (or sad) than fluff. Tw! (maybe?)

The sickening crack of splintered bones and rending flesh assaulted your ears as another agonized scream tore through the chaos.

Your heart pounded a staccato rhythm of pure, unadulterated terror against your ribcage.

This wasn't how the latest expedition beyond the walls was supposed to go.

Trees and debris whipped past in a dizzying blur as your frantic horse thundered over uneven terrain, hooves scrambling for purchase against the blood-slicked earth.

Titans unlike anything you'd ever witnessed surged from every direction in nightmarish droves, effortlessly plucking your fellow Scout comrades from their saddles.

Mouths agape and eyes blank with rapturous hunger, the grotesque beasts shoved weeping, thrashing bodies between their massive jaws without a shred of mercy.

Eren, Mikasa, Armin and the others were all seasoned soldiers despite their youth. Yet even they scattered like skittish deer, screams of panic and rallying cries dissolving into gurgled, sputtering wheezes as Titans swarmed unchecked.

You were older than the 104th cadets under your command but felt just as paralyzed by the overwhelming dread locking your muscles.

Focus. You had to focus.

Fight or flee - those were the only choices when staring down oblivion itself.

Head whipping back, you instinctively yanked brutally on the reins, guiding your steed away from the crush of menacing footfalls.

Evading took priority right now; you could regroup and mount a counterattack later from a safer vantage point.

At least...that had been the plan until a towering twenty meter Class abruptly materialized directly in your path.

The sheer enormity of its hulking, naked form loomed nightmarishly close as your steed skidded to a complete stop, whinnying shrilly in terror.

You didn't even have a chance to react before the jarring impact flung you clear of the saddle, tumbling painfully across the dirt and brambles with the wind knocked clear from your lungs.

Choking on a mouthful of grass and grit, you managed to surge up onto your elbows just as the Titan slowly swiveled its tremendous head to fix those empty, predatory orbs on your prone, defenseless form.

Its jaw unhinged with a wet squelch, an avalanche of putrid saliva raining across your petrified body.

This was it.

This was how your story would end - filthy, broken, unmemorable. Just another insignificant speck of flesh swallowed into the gaping maw of humanity's greatest nightmare.

You cringed back helplessly, tearless sobs of pure distilled terror shredding your ravaged throat.

A blur of verdant green and stark white erupted past your periphery just as those slavering jaws began to descend with ponderous, gnashing intent.

The whisper-sharp slice of twin blades bisecting flesh registered a heartbeat later, followed by the earth-quaking crash of thirty meters of ruined Titan crashing to the dirt a hair's breadth from your shuddering body.

The impact sprayed the air with scarlet droplets, coating your contorted, shielding face in viscous streaks of gore.

You flinched violently on instinct, expecting to be pulverized beneath the catastrophic bulk.

Yet something much more slender and decidedly humanoid collided into you instead.

Powerful arms looped around your torso, rolling you clear of the plummeting wreckage in a whirl of dust and grass that stung your eyes.

Tucking your head into the crook of one elbow for protection, your unexpected savior cradled you securely against their chest through the tumult.

Only after the tremors and choking debris cleared could you summon the courage to squint one eye open...directly into the death-carved glare of your steely-eyed captain, Levi Ackerman himself.

That perpetual scowl etched deep grooves in his chiseled features.

You'd always walked on eggshells around the infamous Capitan, whose fierceness and ruthless skill in combat garnered respect and fear in equal doses.

He didn't suffer fools gladly and made it his personal mission to ride your ass harder than anyone else's.

Extra chores, grueling training regimens, cutting reprimands met with stony silence.

You'd lost track of how many times you fantasized about telling that smug bastard to shove his superiority complex up his tight little ass.

But in that moment, shaken to your core from brushing the very precipice of death itself, all you could do was gawp mutely at his frigid countenance hovering inches away.

With a barely perceptible curl of disgust twisting his thin lips, Levi abruptly shoved you off his lap and surged to his feet in one fluid, leonine motion. Blades already slung across his back, he extended one calloused hand downwards with a scathing glare.

"On your feet, soldier," that trademark rasp grated against your frayed nerves.

You scrambled upright without accepting his offered hand, legs wobbling precariously beneath you.

Head swiveling wildly, you absorbed the full scale of the massacre unfolding amidst the trees - scattered corpses both human and Titan alike peppered the gnarled earth, limbs and entrails intermingling into a perverse tapestry of viscera.

Your lungs burned like every inhale seared them raw, ragged gasps the only sound escaping past the lump of panic lodged in your throat.

Too many...there were just too many...

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Levi's acid tone sliced through your dazed spiral with ruthless efficiency.

"Or are you just going to keep gawking around like a useless sack of shit while our comrades are being slaughtered?"

Your gaze snapped to his, a spark of fury momentarily replacing the shock and dread paralyzing your muscles.

Levi was right.

You'd lost yourself in the horror - even as a seasoned Scout, you'd faltered utterly.

But the way he laid into you, insinuating your weakness or damnwell demanding you simply buck up and ignore the piles of mangled humans around you...it ignited a surging, blinding rage that clawed its way up your raw gullet.

"What do you want from me!?" you snarled, whirling to face the diminutive man fully.

Every gaunt, bloodstained inch of him radiated pugilistic menace yet you found yourself unable to choke back the scalding tirade boiling over your lips.

"Your harsh, bullshit demands? Your callous disregard for this unmitigated massacre around us!? You think I wanted this mission to go so horrifically sideways!? You think I wanted to watch my brothers and sisters being ripped apart and devoured while doing nothing!?"

Levi's hooded gaze flashed dangerously, lips peeling back from his teeth in a bestial sneer as he took an aggressive step into your personal space.

"Then pull your shit together and stop crying, soldier! If I hadn't come along, your blood would already be mingling with all the rest of the worthless scum smeared into these trees! At least die with a little goddamn honor instead of pissing yourself in abject terror!"

Your face twisted with mingled rage and disgust, shaking your head vehemently as angry tears stung your eyes.

"Honor? You're one to talk! Why bother swooping in to save my wretched ass if all I am to you is some useless sack of - "

With a snarl of fury, Levi seized a fistful of your shirt, actually hauling your boots off the ground to crash his forehead viciously against yours.

His granite eyes bored into you with volcanic force from mere inches away, noses practically brushing as he spat out each vitriolic word with undisguised venom.

"Because we're abandoning this shit-show on Commander Smith's orders. Now. So you can sit here bawling about honor and sacrifice or you can follow me out so I don't have to waste any more of my time and effort fishing your pathetic ass out of yet another self-inflicted mess."

You could only blink owlishly, momentarily stunned into silence by the sheer intensity radiating from your captain's diminutive form, when he sneered a final parting shot before wrenching free and firing his ODM gear skyward.

"I'd leave you to the Titans, but it'd be a fucking waste..."

His cape snapped sharply as Levi dissolved through the canopy, undoubtedly charging ahead to rendezvous with the other squads relaying Erwin's orders.

You stood there, chest still heaving with a volatile mixture of anger, fear, and a confusing tangle of other raw emotions in the wake of Captain Levi's harsh departure.

The sounds of battle raged on around you - thunderous footfalls, agonized screams abruptly silenced, the meaty thud of Titan flesh hitting the ground.

Yet it all seemed muffled and distant compared to the singular thought ricocheting through your skull with mounting urgency.

What the everloving fuck was that about?

Sure, you expected the kind of unforgiving, ruthless dressing down Levi was notorious for dishing out even in the direst situations.

The man operated on a whole other plane of pragmatic brutality where coddling weakness simply wasn't part of his DNA. But the vicious intensity behind those final remarks before he fired off left you utterly at a loss.

There was clearly far more bubbling beneath the surface than his usual contemptuous dismissal of your perceived failures.

For a disorienting instant, you could've sworn Levi seemed almost...protective? Possessive, even?

Over you and your well-being amidst this fresh hell?

The idea alone ignited a dizzying swirl of conflicting reactions. A derisive scoff quickly smothered by something suspiciously close to... Anticipation? Curiosity?

You clenched your jaw, shoving those dangerous speculations aside as another anguished yell pierced the cacophony nearby.

There'd be time to untangle the complexity of whatever the fuck was brewing between you and your rigid, aloof superior later.

Assuming you both survived this near-apocalyptic shitshow first.

One deep, steadying exhale later, you snatched the reins of your skittish mount and lithely vaulted into the saddle with a grunt of effort.

Scouring the surrounding chaos, you quickly oriented yourself towards the shattered line where surviving soldiers were beginning to disengage under the cover of thick black smoke billowing across the field.

With a sharp kick of your heels, you urged your steed into a gallop, blades gripped tightly as you careened towards the retreat.

Whatever reservations or bitter confusion lingered, you shoved it all down in service of this singular goal - escape this living nightmare.

Just keep moving, keep fighting to see tomorrow.

Everything else could be dealt with once you saw daylight again.

Maybe then, you could finally decipher the tangled mess of what that last exchange with Levi truly ignited within you.

No matter how much you desperately wished you could ignore it.

[krispycreamcake]

Diabolik Lovers x reader (part 3)

It was almost 3am, your heart was pounding, palms were sweating, lungs heaving. You couldn't believe what had just happened between you and shu. There was no way any of this could possibly be real....Vampires? There was supposed to be no such thing. Why was this happening to you? You felt tears trickle down your chin, wetting your clothes. Everything that man said back then, it all slowly came together. You couldn't help but judge your poor criticism of the offer Karl had made you. He knew your desperate situation and he knew he could fix it, offer you the slightest bit of relief, in exchange you unknowingly gave your life.

Thunder boomed above you, as the winds crashed against your large windows, shaking the pane. You made sure to lock your door and windows, however it did nothing to ease your overwhelming despair. You crawled into bed, draping the covers over yourself as you prayed to whatever being out there to keep you safe. If vampires could exist then surely there was at least a God. Right.....? Morning couldn't come less quicker as you were sure you hadn't slept a wink. Only until the sun started to peek from beyond the vast mountains, could you feel just slightly better. Your body fought with all its might to force itself awake, but that small window of comfort was all you needed to fall asleep. You could almost feel your worries get burnt to a crisp as the soft warmth of the glistening aura of the divine's golden ball shone its grace upon your bitterly cold skin. Your eyelids crashed on itself like a long awaited avalanche, finally allowing your body some rest. You're not sure how long it had been before you awoke to the sound of ruckus outside. You groggily got up and slipped off the bed as your body was now on autopilot. You dragged your way to the door, listening for what was the cause of this conglomeration of chaos.

"Chichinashi- Stop fighting me- Oi! Where do ya think you're really going?" What was that supposed to mean and what was a....what was it? Chee-Chee-noshi? By the sounds of it, it could've been no one other than that flame headed boy, Ayato. But all this shouting this early in the day? Wh- Your thoughts were interrupted as another voice boomed out. "Oi! Keep it down! Some people would like to sleep damn it! Always shouting and screaming like it aint no one else's problem!" You jumped back from your door due to the sheer volume of that other guy. Him you didn't know, it certainly wasn't shu. You continued to listen as Ayato angrily responded. "Ha! There's no way an outta control guy like yourself is trying to tell Ore-sama what to do! Y'know Subaru, I always thought it was about time you learn to have some respect for your older brother-" You couldn't even listen the rest of the conversation before a loud smack was heard and then silence. Did Ayato really hit Subaru?? Soon enough you could hear a full on brawl going on right outside your door. You didn't for the slightest moment think about opening your door, but was it really okay? What if they needed your help? No- that's a stupid idea, why would they need your help? They're vampires for Christ's sake, you're supposed to be their food. Nothing more than a bloodbag...but even so was it okay to just stand by and let them pulverize each other to a pulp?

Before you cold think anymore, you hear footsteps increasing in speed as it hastily made its way to your door. You immediately jumped out the way just as a disastrous thud echoed throughout the elegantly crafted hall. Wood splintering in every which way as the impact caused the door to fly off its hinges. It felt almost surreal to you as Subaru came crashing through your door, landing on a pile of wooden rubble. You subconsciously ran up to his laying form, forgetting all about your experience with his vampiric bother. You immediately crouched near his bashed body, observing how badly beat his face was. One of his cheeks were swollen while his lip continued to bleed profusely, like a fountain gushing out water after not having been in use for years. You felt sympathy swell in your heart for the crimson drinking creature as you used the sleeve of your nightgown to dab up his wounded lip. His eyes fluttered open to gain a better understanding of his surroundings. "Subaru- oh my god- a-are you okay?? Do you need to go to the hospital? You're bleeding..." You anxiously stammered out. He twisted his face away like he was almost disgusted by the act of kindness. You felt your heart drop a little at his rude gesture. "Tch, of course I'm fine." Was all he said in his gruff voice before getting up as Ayato's head poked around the doorframe.

He immediately belted out in a fit of laughter as he criticized his brother's poor situation. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't get anymore words out as the spectacle clad man came speeding behind him. "Just what do you both think you're-" He immediately silenced his scolding as he took in the sight before him. Reiji pinched the bridge of his nose before glaring at all three of you. If looks could kill, Reiji would be in jail for more than just a case of predetermined manslaughter.

It wasn't long before you, Subaru and Ayato found yourselves doing household chores.....for a month. How was it that you just got here and yet things couldn't have gone worse? Luckily Reiji said he'd spare you the trouble if you helped him in his experiments, but you were still thinking over your decision. For now however, you were currently pruning the rose bushes with Subaru, who honestly didn't seem to mind. In fact, he almost seemed relax, granted that a guy with such stone cold expressions could muster any facial declaration that didn't warrant anything else than a worried glance. His usual penetrative stare softened as his ruby eyes remained trained on the delicate petals of the white rose. It was hypnotic to see such a harsh blood-sucking beast be so attentive, it almost made him seem human. You watched as his muscularly toned biceps clench and release each time he cut off a few extra leaves, the way his white wispy locks danced to the chorus of the winds, trained eyes making sure that he wouldn't accidentally harm the flower. Your world almost came crashing down as he looked your way, not a word said.

Instead he inched closer, hesitance absent in his calculated steps. You stood paralyzed like a deer in headlights as this 6ft something man came brooding your way. There he was right in front of you. You were as sweaty as a sinner in church as his hand shakily made its way to your neck, brushing aside your hair as his eyes widened. You weren't sure what was going through his mind but none of it looked pleasant.

"Damn...already?" Was all he managed to say before yanking his hand away and stuffing it in his pocket. You felt yourself become embarrassed, felt yourself grow meek at his comment. "It was Shu....I- I didn't want it...it hurt so much I almost passed out." You started, not quite sure why you felt the need to clarify your desires to the albino man, but a part of you felt it was the right thing to do. "Of course it'd hurt, it was your first time." You felt a blush creep up on you as those string of words struck a familiar chord in your mind. Subaru instantly picked up on it and realized what he said before visibly growing embarrassed and strutting away, daring not to make eye contact. "Just hurry up so we can get this over with!" He shouted before speeding away to the next bush behind you. You continued working, feeling despondent that your conversation with him ended so quickly. Your gut told you that he was the safest to be around, at least for now. "Are your brothers going to kill me?" You voiced, tone timid and voice faint as you couldn't help but think about if you were going to make it out alive. You notice his body grow rigid at this, dropping his hands as he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Does it matter if you do? If you're here then that means you were chosen because no one would miss you...But even so, you should continue striving to live on and get away from this place...from us monsters."

Was he really saying what you thought he was? In that moment something inside you shifted as you watched the man continue trimming the rose bushes, completely oblivious to the hope he sparked within your being. If you weren't in your right state of mind you'd run up and hug him, thank him for his words, but you couldn't. You knew you couldn't, not yet. However it quickly dawned on you that you couldn't leave, as much as you wanted to. Not because of the brothers, as you were now certain Subaru would aid with your escape, no...it was a threat far more heinous, far more deceitful. Your memory is almost a blur as you recall the night you and Karl met, you were certain he preferred it that way. You recall your purpose and why you were asked to come here. Subaru was wrong to believe that no one would miss you, it was far from the actual truth. You knew this, but your memory didn't allow you to exactly grasp why. So many pieces of the puzzle yet to be discovered and if there was one thing you were certain about, it was that staying here would help you put everything together.

"No, I can't leave yet, but thank you. I appreciate that...a lot." You said as you finished up your work. Subaru couldn't believe his ears, why were all you women so stubborn?? Did all females suddenly have a death wish? It lit a rage indescribable to him, but before he could lash out and point out your idiocy, you were already heading inside. Even after you left, he could feel the gentle stinging of your kindness. Not just from your gratitude, but from earlier as well. He hid it well but to him, your actions lingered on in his mind, even his body. He gently brushed his lip in the spot you touched earlier, almost to recreate the experience, as he pictured your body suspended over him, gentle eyes watching, scanning his injuries as your previous words rung out in his ear like bells. He dragged himself out of his delusions, cursing for allowing a mortal such as yourself corrupt his mind. He needed to stay away from you, to isolate himself before he revealed the monster that he truly was.

It didn't take you long before you appeared at Reiji's office door. You knocked firmly, waiting a response. It took a while before he called you in, presumably busy. The moment you opened the door you smelt tea brewing, possibly green tea but you weren't quite sure. Reiji looked you up and down before speaking, "I can safely assume that you and Subaru are done with your work?" You answered him quickly as a means to get this interaction over with as soon as possible. "Yes and I've already made up my mind. I'll help you with your experiments." Your words caused Reiji's face to lighten up exponentially. "Good, I hope that you prove to be more useful than that other one." You had no idea who he was talking about but felt bad for them just from his tone of voice. "If you're not busy, I'd appreciate it if we could start now." You were a bit shocked that he'd start things this quickly but accepted nonetheless.

You followed behind him as he introduced you to his workshop. It reminded you of a museum and a chemistry lab at the same time. A large wooden desk that was attached to the wall displayed many jars of preserved life, little sticky notes attached to them with small pointers for their properties. They ranged from snakes to fish to turtles to taxidermized birds. Stationery placed neatly on the desk along with different manilla folders. Then, there were the shelves that contained various bottles of liquids, differing in shape, size and colour. There was a blackboard at the far end of the room, some scribbles already written on it. It stood next to a large cabinet of china with labels under them dating their years and the artists that made them. There were more tables with what seemed like medical items and other gadgets and knick-knacks, which quite frankly didn't even look of human making. Of course then there was the bookshelves, laden from head to toe with knowledge trapped between the realms of writing.

He presented you with a beaker containing a blue liquid and instructed you to gently swirl it around while he grabbed a book from the shelf. Eventually the liquid turned a deep purple. He inspected your work before humming in approval. He took the beaker from your hand and sprinkled some yellow powder into it and you both watched as the colour turned to that of a lighter purple. He looked to you and handed you the object once more. "Drink it all in one go so I can fully understand the effects of this." You stared at him dumbfounded. "I'm not drinking some random chemical." You stated firmly. At this, he slammed his book closed with a loud snap. "You agreed to this didn't you?" He said as he slowly made his way over. "Yeah but that doesn't mean that you can just make me drink random purple liquids.."

He stopped right in front of you, towering over your form before placing a hand on the desk behind you. "It's supposed to help reduce the chances of cardiac arrest when paired with medication that labels it as a side effect." His cold voice freezes over your blood as you look up at him. Eyes marking you like nothing more than prey as a smile presented itself on his plump lips. You shakily raised the beaker to your mouth and downed it in one go. Its taste was quite earthy, something you weren't expecting. The bitterness came immediately after as you clasped your palm around your lips to hold in a gag as you retched from the distasteful concoction. Reiji watches in curiosity at your turmoil, taking in your every movement. You handed him the beaker weakly as you struggled to stand up. Your vision felt hazy just as a piercing headache attacked your temples. Before you could even completely register the pain, you were out like a light.

You awoke to darkness all around you, your head still pounding. You stood up on wobbly legs as you tried to adjust your eyesight, however there was nothing to see. At this realization your panic settled in as your head swished and swerved every which way until you saw it. The tiniest of lights...a flame standing some distance in front of you. You ran towards it, the urgency for comfort powering your steps. As you got closer and closer, you realized it was a torch. You stuck your hand out to grab it and as soon as you did, the scenery changed to that of a stone hall. Torches lighting down a path, guiding you. You looked behind you and noticed there was still nothing but darkness, which only solidified your decision to move forward. You walked for no longer than 5 minutes as a wooden door came into view. It looked so intricately carved and designed, fit for someone of a high standing class. You pushed the door open to be met only with the one and only Karlheinz. He was sitting at a desk, presumably his office. He looked up from his paperwork and made eye contact with you, to which your headache returned. He smiled at you and gestured for you to come in and take a seat. You didn't want to, you absolutely refused to, but your body didn't heed your brain's warnings and made its way over to his desk.

"How has your stay been so far? I take it you were already introduced to the truth of the situation?" He said, his long luscious pale locks shifting on his shoulder as he poured you a glass of water from a water jug. "Why did you lie to me?? I want to go home." You said, tone reeking of desperation. "If I recall correctly, you were the one that agreed to this, no? I dislike persons that go back on their words just because they have to get out of their comfort zones." He says handing you the glass, which you took and gulped down. Since when were you so thirsty? "This has nothing to do with comfort zones- I might die for God's sake!" Karl listened to your complaints intently as he clasped his hands together and rested them on the desk. "Do you remember our agreement?" You stayed silent as you tried to recall the events of what happened the night you two met. "Let me help reminisce. You needed my help and I agreed to aid you under the circumstance that you help me as well. This isn't just about my sons, this is about my vision and you concurred to help achieve this, did you not?" As he spoke, you feel bits and pieces of your memory start to unfog. "Yes..." He smiled once again at your understanding. "If you die then that disrupts my plans. Trust that as long as you work under me and follow my orders, death herself couldn't rip you away from me." You felt your throat grow dry as his words made you realize a couple things. That one, that translated to, 'for as long as you live, you will be under my control' and two, you had no choice but to work for him because that was a clear and direct threat that if you disobeyed him, death would be the least of your worries. You felt as if you were watching a snake shed its skin as he revealed to you what he had in store for the both of you. "I know there are many questions you have that are unanswered, but they will remain that way as I piece together my plan. Don't worry as you will soon understand everything, just keep being a good pawn to me and you will be rewarded. I assume we have an understanding?" His words cut through your fears as you nodded in response. "Ah, I need verbal confirmation, otherwise we cannot proceed." You felt your lips grow dry as you spoke up. "Yes...I understand." He smiled once more before getting up from his seat and pulling out your chair to allow you to stand up and leave. "But I still don't understand how- or even why you're doing any of this, why me?" He gently took your hand into his gloved one and looked you in the eye. "I'd love to answer all your questions my dear but I do believe our time is up. Perhaps the next time we meet I'll have more of an opportunity to speak to you on a more personal level? As for now, it seems my sons require your presence." Was all he said before kissing the top of your hand and in an instant you were brought back to reality.

Hi everyone, I'm finally back and yes I've gone down the Karlheinz rabbit hole, we will be seeing more of him. But just to clear some things up, the reader's past will get revealed in future chapters as we learn more about her and Karl's 'agreement'. Anyways thank you all for your support ilyyyy <3