#so like i may as well die really

[caffeinatedopossum]

POV: an inconvenience happened to me but I'm depressed

[purpleleavesday]

Alright I feel like my problem with the Eustace Winner name (Sebastian my boy I'm so sorry) is that he's a really major character with depth and development.

From the start AA has had really stupid pun names and I loved them. April May, Redd White? I thought those were the best when I was playing ace attorney for the first time.

But characters who were actually important -- Phoenix, Maya, Edgeworth, von Karma, I could be wrong but their names aren't as stupid of puns as Redd White or my beloved Detective Detective Detective (love you gumshoe). I mean, Wright is literally just a play on right, but it's not a phrase, like I feel Eustace Winner (Useless Winner?) Is supposed to be. And Phoenix is a reference to his nature, how he "rises from the ashes", it's about his general overall character and doesn't feel like a mean joke. To me, naming Sebastian Eustace Winner is like if Edgeworth was named Meenin Evil so you know he's a bad guy when you meet him.

Poor Sebastian though, he has a LOT that happens (I never finished aai2 actually but I want to give him a hug and a mug of hot chocolate), hes a very important character, and it feels like they gave him a side character name? When he has a lot more importance to the story than just one case

[cerise-on-top]

Hank with an Eldritch Horror Reader

Here's another thing I wrote two years back! It was an interesting concept which I really liked, so I actually really enjoyed writing this request!

Hank J Wimbleton was a grunt of many things, but not one to be scared unless he had a good reason to be. There were many things in this world he did not understand, you were one of them. Upon meeting you, his first instinct would have been to either fight or run away - who could blame him, it was all he knew. No matter how many times you reassured him that the very last thing you wanted to do was to harm him, he’d draw his weapon, uncertain of whether or not he should believe your words.

Once you show no resistance towards him whatsoever and simply restrain him using your powers or other methods, that’s when, thrashing around as much as he could, he would start listening. You may or may not have seen a grunt up close, but this was your chance to finally examine one. As you scrutinise him from every possible angle Hank realises that you were simply curious about his being and finally lowers weapon.

Your voice would likely hurt his head and freeze the blood in his veins, so you might have to resort to telepathy or speak through a marionette, if you can find one. Though, once Hank’s interest in you has been piqued, he’d be more than happy to find you one. A lot of people in Nevada seem to be redundant in the first place. Regarding telepathy: You will be able to have a two-way conversation with Hank like that, but, for the most part, he doesn’t think in words. Still, he can do so, if needed.

If you’re on the rather small side, he will make an effort to pick you up, or hold you, and bring you back to base. Depending on whether you can float or not, this might be rather difficult, but he’ll try. If you’re large, however, then he will simply “tell” you to follow him. As an eldritch being you could likely either change your form or scare away anyone in your path in the first place, so he doesn’t particularly worry about anyone being stupid enough to attack you.

Spend time with him, he’ll get used to you more and more and, eventually, grow a bond with you. Proud, he’ll show you to Doc so he can figure out what you are, but do not be fooled. Hank wants to know what you are to some degree too. Once comfortable with you and certain you won’t harm him, he’ll start observing you, touching you to some degree. See how you react, how you feel, how you are.

Despite your conversations being, for the most part, one-sided, Hank will ask you directly what you are and if you’re some form of eldritch deity. Since you’re an amicable creature he can’t exactly wrap his head around, it’s worth a try.

Although he would like to do so to some degree, he won’t take you with him on missions. It’s his way of saying “I care a great deal about you, I don’t want you to die or worse even if you are capable of defending yourself.” If you really insist on aiding him, he will let you, begrudgingly. But beware that he will have your back. In fact, having you around will give him a greater reason to fight and improve his overall performance. Though, it will also be a major stress factor to him if something were to happen to you, so choose wisely.

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world

[sunnibits]

friendly reminder that the ninth doctor and rose tyler literally invented love in 2005 when the doctor said “I could save the world but lose you” in s1ep5 of doctor who. not a joke btw just a statement of fact!

[hoziersredguitar]

I miss old tumblr in the sense that i could complain about board exams and worrying about not getting enough to be eligible for my medical entrance test and i'd have summoned half the indian side of tumblr to sympathize

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[mettywiththenotes]

Talking about an au

This is one that has been on my mind since 419 and tbh I thought for sure it could happen

Remember when Tomura shed his skin during the Floating UA battle? Well I wondered if a similar thing would happen again in Mount Fuji

Picture it. In the void, AFO eats Tomura. He's dying as he's told everything about AFO's involvement in his life. AFO takes over his body, hand formed over mouth and all. It looks pretty bad. All the stuff happens with Izuku getting his arms back, the heroes coming to his aid etc. Izuku punches AFO (end of 422, beginning of 423). Here's where it diverges from canon:

Izuku punches AFO and he starts crumbling slowly, from his gut (where the impact was) to the rest of him. Except before it even reaches his chest, his face starts to crack open. Visually we can see this crack isn't the same as the crumbling of his body. It's one we've seen before, across his face in the middle of a battle. A parallel back to this

Except within the crack is Tomura's face. Tomura inside Tomura's body. Tomuraception

What happened? Well, the power of Izuku's will to stop AFO (the punch) allowed the vestiges that got thrown into the body to reawaken and bring Tomura's soul back. At the same time, minutes before, Tomura, slowly dying in the void, began to think. About everything AFO told him, how he was doomed before he was even born. How much that angered him, the rage coursing through his soul. He already had a strong will before, but now he really can't accept what has happened and he can't accept AFO getting away with it. Even if AFO's fate is to die, he'd rather be the one on the other end of it, alive and watching him. Better yet, being the hand that ultimately brings about his end

As a visual representation, it's like Tomura reaches out, desperate to climb out of the abyss he is slowly dying in, and he is met with several hands reaching back, taking his hand and pulling him out and back to the world. The vestiges, who have been reawakened by Izuku

Before, Tomura has not been able to die or stay dead. So why should this not be the same? With the power of rage, spite, his hero and some ghostly relatives, he lives on. He twists his own fate by accepting the hands that reach out and climbing out of the hole AFO threw him in

AFO's Tomura face cracks open. Tomura forces AFO's vessel apart from the head, almost like a butterfly climbing out of its cocoon, almost like he is actively prying his own cage open and escaping for good

AFO had been crumbling and was ripped open, but in a desperate attempt to stay together and stay alive (also fueled by anger at being pushed to the edge like this + Tomura somehow coming back from the dead), he uses his quirks (mostly drills) to keep his body intact for now (this is already shown in 423)

Also, I guess it depends on what you would like to believe, but the way I see it, Tomura could come back either with just his decay OR with the vestiges choosing another vessel for what little power they can give left and so backing Tomura up with the last of OFA. Aka 10th user Tomura. It's not as powerful as it was with Izuku but it still adds a lot, just enough to pack a real punch. Personally I think if we're already throwing away "what is realistic" then I might as well go big or go home and go with 10th user Tomura my beloved

It's from this point that he and Izuku begin to work together to kill the old body. As you can imagine, it's probably not an immediate bonding of friendship or whatever, but it's more or less teamwork formed with the general statement of "we still have things to work out, hero, but I don't care about that right now. I hate him more than anyone else on this damn mountain and I can't stand the thought of letting anyone else kill him but me" etc but then progresses as they fight

[wizardnuke]

truly blows my mind that people will get on an online game and proceed to bitch and whine the entire time. where is your joy. your whimsy. you are not having fun why are you here

[datastate]

in light of new changes: do not give tumblr your money if you disapprove of what they are doing to this site, this encourages them to continue implementing changes at the expense of their userbase. use the feedback feature on /support to submit complaints, as attempting to mention staff/humans/any personal blogs from there may be falsely flagged as harassment (lest we forget partyjockers) & tank their ratings on apps stores with your same complaints over the new features they are implementing. please, feel free to bring up their insensitivity to disabled people regarding visual overload or epilepsy; tumblr live making it a dangerous place for american individuals, especially kids, as it shares their location and there is no permanent way to turn it off; instances of transphobic or racist harassment that has gone unmoderated despite reports; or of the fascist problem they have on here, which they do not censor in the least. they have the ability to make tags unsearchable and completely erase posts, yet never apply it to these violent groups. there is so much they could be doing, which the majority of the userbase has requested they work on, yet they refuse to. make your complaining productive and share it where it'll actually be heard.

[lemonycranberries]

seeing vincenzo in queen of tears instantly provoked in me a reaction that was so visceral. it came from the depths of my soul. i felt things i didn't even know i could feel

[chibishortdeath]

Great googley moogley it’s all going to shit! Every day becomes exponentially more terrifying!

And all perfectly timed to just right at the start of what’s supposed to be my adult life where I get my shit together and be useful and productive!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hanakihan]

I’ve been having a fever, so have a bit of jinchul meeting AB and becoming their successor

a small warning tho, there’s not really graphic description of gore and abstract decaying descriptions as well as AB being cryptic and Jin-Chul having near hysteria

Everything smelled of rot here.

Jin-Chul remembered hot searing pain, the cracking of his own bones and muscles tearing like an old cloth that wasn’t needed anymore. Before losing consciousness to darkness from shock of pain, he saw his own limbs twisting in ways they clearly shouldn’t be for a human.

To think he was killed like an unwanted doll some child got bored of and decided to see how long it will take before it falls apart. Well, he did expect death as one of endings to his extremely stupid decision of coming to double dungeon Hunter Sung fell a victim to because of course it’s his job to jump after S ranks when they do something. He doesn’t regret his own death, now that he thinks about it (he’s able to think?), but dragging others with him leaves him with a strong taste of bitterness on his tongue (his own blood?).

What he didn’t expect is to still be able to open his eyes after them supposedly falling out of his sockets from pressure. And he does wish his sockets were empty still because light that meets his is painfully white, even burning in its brightness. He instinctively closes them and frowns, bringing up his shaking hands to his face only to feel his cold fingers and lack of equipment. As he moved, he heard a really loud scrapping noise and crashing of metal pieces in absolute silence around him, feeling how some weight disappeared off him.

Jin-Chul took a long minute to stay with his eyes closed, trying to listen to what happens around him and wondering why he’s still alive.

Then again, is he truly alive or is it some agony hallucination he’s having as his mind went into shock from pain?

He really doesn’t want to think about it too much, not in his last minutes before he completely succumbs to agony and finally dies. Maybe he should think about something nice, but then again when something nice happened in his life?

Still facing down, he slowly lowered his hands, and opened his eyes. First thing he notices is a cold white marble floor he’s been sitting on this whole time, so stark white under his dirty bloody suit pants. He’s barefoot for some reason and it’s freezing, he can’t see his toes but he feels dried crust on them. Trying to move only made crust crumble a little and intensify bloody smell that mixes with already strong rotting scent.

(Was he rotting or is there something else that’s been rotting?)

Then he looks at his shaking hands, so pale and almost bloodless, cold to touch and so artificial to his own body. At first he didn’t even notice white ruined shirt he’s wearing but then same dark red crust (was it his own blood?) on torn sleeves made it look like his own hands were torn off and attached as an afterthought.

(He starts to feel like an old reattached doll more and more and he doesn’t like it.)

His hair is a mess from what he feels, but at least this messy curtain hides him from blinding light and need to face his surroundings right away, and he’s grateful for that. There’s also a dull pain in his forehead and he frowns once again, but this time he also feels crust crumble here too, and then warm blood leaks down his brow and in his eye, so he wipes it off with his hand. It’s disgusting and definitely not how he usually would’ve done it, but right now he doesn’t really care. He’s dying anyway so at least he’ll die in small comfort he can find.

(Curse this damned statue and it’s ridiculously giant stone book—)

There’s still that strong smell of rot around him but he’s not really bothered by it. It doesn’t make him gag and want to cover his nose. It’s sickeningly sweet and foul, with hint of wetness and dust to it. He awkwardly wonders if it’s actually his own scent.

「To think that a mere human can find their way into my grave.」

Jin-Chul twitches and goes completely still, holding his breath and staring down at his own hands. In silence a myriad of voices, male and female, elderly and childish, worldly and outwordly was an explosive cacophony that left his ears ringing. It was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so close yet so far, embracing him fully but also staying away. He knew that something was addressing him, but he was too stunned to even react as echo of words danced around further and further into nothingness. He must’ve stayed silent for too long for the voice (voices?) to speak up again.

「You shall not fear, human. Rise your head up and face your God properly.」

Jin-Chul really wanted to go hysterical right now, because at the end of the day facing a God (is it truly a God, though?) in his dying moment absolutely wasn’t on his list. He really would’ve preferred to stay like that, facing down and just waiting for eternal nothingness, but something commanding in this voice (voices?) and looming shadow over him made him slowly rise his head.

He almost screamed seeing a gigantic white figure looming over him.

A man (woman? something?) with long, snow white hair that fell around them in a silky pool, almost merging with marble in color. Jinchul was partly glad that it blocked most of searing light from above and hid him from whatever was happening outside. Some of loose locks fell on Jin-Chul too, like a small waterfall, on his shoulders, arms and legs, as if he’s a stray butterfly that got caught in a spider web. A figure had empty glowing eyes, and staring back in them Jin-Chul saw sea of stars, so bright and vibrant in their long lived glory, yet so dangerous and distant.

Both kept staring at each other, none making a move or speaking up for a long time. That’s exactly when Jin-Chul noticed that his heart isn’t even beating and that all this time he wasn’t breathing. Realization didn’t terrify him as much as he would’ve expected.

Rotting scent intensified with this figure looming over him, and Jin-Chul, unable to hold eye contact any longer, lowered his eyes. This time he noticed that this being had several wounds in their chest, all empty see-through holes with golden crust around them. There’s white nothingness instead of meat or muscles, but marble ribs are visible, covered in golden cracked roots with blooming glowing flowers on them.

Looking down even more Jin-Chul absentmindedly notes that he can see their marble spine laying on floor further back with what was left of their flesh and robes. That would explain the rotting scent mixed with flowery sweetness.

‘So… the God can also die?..’

And then Jin-Chul snapped his head back up, staring in same unchanging eyes in fear. Can a God read minds? Did he offend them? Devoid of any emotion face didn’t tell him anything, instead proceeding to stare back.

「Humans truly are fearless creatures. To think you’ll dare to openly stare at my body and have such thoughts, yet We feel no offense in that. No wonder He decided to chose a human as His successor.」

Words traveled further into nothingness without leaving a God’s closed mouth. Jin-Chul kept sitting here unmoving, feeling how something cold and liquid touched his hand. His gaze unwillingly lowered, surprised to see a pool of liquid gold slowly accumulating around him and this being, flowing from holes he previously saw. It’s cold, yet at the same time it eases a subtle pain in places where it touches. Jin-Chul states in wonder and uneasiness as gold on his hand erases old ugly scars and eases pains in knuckles.

「We and you are dying, human. Tell Us, do you wish to perish with Us into nothingness or continue your existence?」

So he’s truly dying.

Jin-Chul wonders if it would be easy to just perish. To forget all this pain, and agony and just rest?

But then he’ll leave others alone. To die. To die painfully just because of his awful decisions. He’s afraid of death, he’s afraid of what comes after it. He remembers how Hunter Sung described death to him, out of nowhere when they were drinking tea.

Oh and tea and all small comforts that make life enjoyable and good. He remembers all warm greetings and sweet goodbyes, he remembers all those connections he formed in his life, bad and good, wrapped around him just like silky waterfalls he’s tangled in now. It hurts in all best ways, the memory and feels of what it means to live and be a human, and intensity of it is enough to make his heart beat one more time and for him to take a shaky wet breath to give a proper answer.

He stares back into golden universe, with certainty and no fear, eyes wet with unshed tears and lips quivering in crooked smile.

‘Yes.’

All it takes is a mere second of nothingness before figure above him hums in some sort of satisfaction and allows themselves to smile. And then skin on this beautiful face starts to rot in ugly charred black, as if being burned like a piece of paper, leaving behind marble bones and gold. Body falling apart as if a stone statue being broken to pieces, hair burning into decaying flower petals and gold flowing in waterfalls, drowning Jin-Chul in it. There’s no more bitterness and rot on his tongue, as flowers bloom in his mouth, filling it with sickening sweetness and making him drunk.

Jin-Chul remembered pleasing coldness, the cracking of his own bones and muscles sewn together by golden roots. Before losing consciousness to embrace of gold sea from relief, he saw a God giving their last gift before being reborn.

[plumbus-central]

what does Minnie's cutie mark mean?

its based off an incident that occurred before she immigrated to ricks dimension and planet. She is originally from a royal/noble family in a fantasy type dimension (picture like the underworld but with more infrastructure), and she was assassinated but brought back to life by necromancy magic which she then inherited the ability to use.

So basically its just Horse Skull = Necromancy

thank you for the question! minnie's been my oc for like a decade so i dont always remember the things i've shared abt her.

(i sort of went off in the tags but i dont want to copy n paste it all up here so just make sure to read the tags for more info on her powers. I prommy im working on a minnie info post! 😭)