#their tattoos are based on the entities for now

[stolos]

Ink5oul

I think they would wear their own merch

[nightmaremonarch]

jojo’s bizarre fantasy au BECAUSE I LOVE PART 5 AUGHHHHHHHHH

i rewatched the entirety of part five in the span it took to make this. Details about the lore and characters below the cut ^_^

Ok. I will be separating this based on character… in an attempt to be more organized. Included will also be my friend’s description that she gave for each character upon seeing the drawing.

Giorno Giovanna — Race, half vampire. Stand name, Gaia. Unfortunately lost his silly victory rolls, which have been replaced with donut shaped curls. Has a dream of usurping the Crimson King and ending his oppressive reign.

Friend’s Description: “‘pink is still manly for this era guys trust’”

Trish Una — Race, human(?). Stand name, Spice. I like to think she tries to maintain an air of elegance and superiority, but she’s just a kid who doesn’t particularly want to be in the situation she’s in. The princess of an underground kingdom? No way. She just wants to be Trish.

Friend’s Description: “Noblelady”

Guido Mista — Race, human. Stand name, Coitus Cluster (good god the creative juices are NOT flowing). Best archer, like, ever. Probably enjoys animal furs but is too broke to get any. Stinky loser.

Friend’s Description: “Robin hood.”

Pannacotta Fugo — Race, elf. Stand name, Purple Death. Former nobleman and still dresses like it. Had to limit the holes in his clothes because he is, unfortunately, not immune to being sunburn.

Friend’s Description: “totally not a vampire”

Bruno Bucciarati — Race, human. Stand name, Strings of Fate. I love him. He’s the love of my life. I may or may not have put the most effort into his outfit. He’s so beautiful. No notes. Also, since zippers weren’t invented till like… mid 1800’s, rather than zippers, he uses strings!!! Tugs on ‘em the way you would a loose hem…

Friend’s Description: “Italian nobleman”

Leone Abbacchio — Race, drow. Stand name, Rewind. It takes the form of a snake!! Because Moody Blues had them.. neck thangs. I don’t know. Anyways. Abbacchio coulda been drippier, but at the time of drawing I was running low on brain power.

Friend’s Description: “TOTALLY NOT A VAMPIRE”

Narancia Ghirga — Race, human. Stand name, Pheonix. Due to the fact that airplanes did NOT exist prior to some point in the 1900’s, Narancia’s stand is a bird. Probably breathes fire and can detect carbon dioxide… cannot come back from the dead though. Sorry buddy. Also, his left eye is blind from his eye infection. Sorry again buddy.

Friend’s Description: “peasant working on a merchant ship”

AND FINALLY:

Diavolo — Race, Demon. The Crimson King. He took FOREVER to draw. Especially those tattoos. I tried to make his color scheme salvageable, but seeing as I was working with Diavolo’s actual color scheme… it is not the best. Diavolo used to have wings as well, but after an incident that prompted him to go underground, they’re gone. He hides in the body of a halfling named Vinegar Doppio… though they are two completely separate entities.

Friend’s Description: “Dante’s homosexual Inferno”

idk if ill elaborate more on this au. depends on the reception of this…!! this is all just for fun… goofs and gaffs… love u sorry for only posting wips for months before this

also in this au i think stands would be called spirits/be spirits ok that’s all fr now bye love u

[abiiors]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: icymi this series takes place a little bit before keep your enemies closer. it's only loosely based on the the actual accurate timeline of events from 2012/13

✮ cw: cheating, being sad and stressed, yelling, fighting

✮ wc: 2k

juliette has always been the muse, max the artist. 

she has her moments, here or there—times when she ‘helps’ max with the songs (which is mostly just him asking what tempo she likes best out of two or three options and her picking one based on vibes alone.) and sure, some of the songs she has liked have gone on to become moderate hits for the band, but juliette secretly suspects max only asks her opinion to include her in things. 

mostly he just leaves her alone to sit in quiet corners of recording studios while he and his band create a ruckus.

juliette is happy though, quietly supporting. she loves max. she imagines she’ll marry him someday. “when the band takes off” is what he always says to her in the quiet moments of the night, traces a ring around her finger. it’s then that her stomach feels funny, maybe it’s the butterflies? she does love him…

sitting quietly in a corner of the studio is exactly what she’s doing when her phone buzzes, rapidly, one text after the other incoming. she frowns; who’s texting her so frantically in the middle of the day? has she accidentally missed her shift at the local hmv? juliette straightens and checks her phone. 

her nose wrinkles in disgust—for one, it’s ethan davies, max’s bandmate whom she rather despises. and also, why the fuck is he texting her when he’s in the next room over? but curiosity takes over her and she swipes the text thread open.

there’s not much in there—just a plain happy birthday message to him from four months ago followed by his ‘ty’. and then there are the messages from today. a series of photo featuring max…

juliette’s heart drops in her stomach. 

it’s max, her max, half-naked on the sofa of some house party with an equally half-naked girl on his lap. his hand is on her waist, his mouth around her boob that’s falling out of her tank top. judging by the dermal bandage on his arm, it had to be exactly two weeks ago when he’d gotten his latest tattoo. 

nausea brews in her gut, but juliette can’t look away. it’s like she’s spellbound and held in a trance, some unknown entity forcing her to swipe onto the next photo.

it’s much of the same really—max with his hands down the girl’s pants, shooting her a smug smile. he looks fucked up, he has to be, she thinks, to fingerbang someone when there are obviously people around him. ethan, for sure, since he seems to have taken these photos. 

she’s sure she’s about to be sick all over the floor. 

a second later, a white-face max bursts into the room, followed by ethan who seems to have a fresh split lip. 

“baby, i—” he starts, chokes, takes a step forward. juliette springs up. 

three years she’s been with him, more than that really if she wants to count the months she’s spent having a crush on him. three years and now when she looks at him, all she sees is a pathetic little man. 

juliette picks up the first thing she sees, a water bottle, and chucks it at max as hard as she can. it hits him square in the stomach and knocks the wind out of him as he falls down to his knees, clutching his middle. she feels a smidge of satisfaction. 

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he yells, still on the floor. ethan simply watches the exchange wide-eyed. 

“with me? oh, that’s rich!”

“they weren’t supposed to be sent to you,” ethan chimes in, and juliette shoots him a glare so dirty that he’d be dead on spot if looks could kill. 

she wishes they could. she wishes she could murder max and ethan in cold blood. 

“babe, please—”

“you’re dead to me,” juliette snaps. 

there are tears spilling down her cheeks, angry tears and sad tears, tears of pure frustration and disgust and everything in between. for all intents and purposes, her voice should be wobbly and weak, and yet it surprises her how determined she sounds. it surprises her how quickly she manages to gather her belongings, how quickly she turns and storms out the door. 

gone within the blink of an eye, just like her three year long relationship.

in the weeks that follow, max sends her a hundred different flowers—sunflowers (that she’s allergic to) and roses (that come with a horrid artificial smell clinging to them). he calls her a dozen times and sends her a dozen pathetic begging messages until she blocks him (and ethan—a wonderful byproduct).

she even considers deleting his number. but there’s a little traitorous part of her brain that has it memorised. in spite of everything. 

in the weeks that follow she moves in with a friend.

carly is a bright ray of sunshine—crazy hair and red nails and brilliantly coloured graphic t-shirts seem to be 90% of her wardrobe. and even in the middle of all the bleakness, she brings some warmth to juliette's life. 

carly’s the first housemate she’s ever had that’s not max. carly also seems to know a thousand different indie musicians that keep coming over or inviting her to their shows. 

juliette doesn’t mind it as much. she’s used to this particular kind of hustle—at least that aspect of familiarity hasn’t been snatched from her. besides, living with carly has kept max away. she suspects carly scares him a little, that’s why he chooses to stay away. 

she's is a good friend to juliette though, she lets her throw herself a pity party in bed for the first few weeks, only forcing her into showers when she starts reeking of sweat. juliette is grateful for her. but even her patience runs thin soon enough.

“alright that’s it,” carly bursts into her room one afternoon while juliette is busy deleting photos of her and max off her phone. “the pity party ends today.”

“but—”

“no!”

juliette huffs at her but sits up in bed. she’s in three day old pyjamas, her hair is a greasy mess from not being washed for at least a week, and frankly she stinks. it’s mortifying. maybe carly is right…

“i’m seeing this guy, adam,” carly smiles wide and juliette feels a pang in her chest. has she ever looked like that while talking about max? “his band has a show tonight—”

“i’m done with band guys.”

“jules!” carly holds up her hand. jules… it startles her, no one’s ever called her that. max only ever called her babe or baby or juliette if they were in a fight. but jules… that’s new. it holds no memories for her. juliette holds it close to her and repeats it to herself until it starts sounding like a real name. 

jules. she could be a jules. 

carly, unaware of this little epiphany, continues talking. “they’re good, jules, trust me! and i’m not saying that just because i’m seeing him, they really are good. you’ll have fun.”

she mulls the thought over in her head. the one thing she remembers fondly from her now ruined relationship with max is the shows. the being backstage and seeing the inner workings of everything. she misses being at the barricade and getting to scream the songs at the top of her lungs. 

“i don’t want to go just to meet someone.” she chews on a hangnail.

“you don’t have to,” carly promises. “it will just be a good time.”

“just a good time,” she mumbles to herself. carly looks at her with hope written all over her face. and she’s been such a good friend to her, juliette doesn’t particularly feel like letting her down. 

“okay,” she says quietly, smiling when carly cheers. 

it’ll be good, she tells herself. she needs to get out of the house sooner or later anyway.

it feels exactly how she remembers it. juliette loves the energy backstage, loves to see the different guitars strewn about carelessly and people hurrying around, loves watching artists shooting the shit and smoking up before shows.

there are occasionally ones that are uptight and nervous about going on stage—she loves watching them especially. how they come alive in front of the crowd and under the stage lights. 

carly lets go of her hand when she spots a guy; adam, juliette guesses. a second later it’s confirmed when carly hugs him tightly and kisses him for a good thirty seconds. juliette looks away, awkward and out of place. 

“i brought a friend,” she announces, pointing to juliette and suddenly everyone’s eyes are on her. 

“hi,” she says, a little shy. adam, to her relief, looks equally shy and quiet. 

“new fans?” a voice makes her head turn. it’s a tall man, taller than adam and twirling drumsticks between his fingers like it’s second nature to him. 

“george,” he turns to her and sticks his hand out. juliette takes it. 

“jules,” she says, her voice a little unsure. jules. it fits better somehow now that she’s said it out loud. 

“are you a fan, jules?” he grins at her, an easy-going smile that instantly puts her at ease too. maybe carly was right. maybe they are good. george certainly feels nothing like max’s friends. 

stop. she scolds herself. she’s not allowed to think of max tonight. 

“are you putting her on the spot, george?” a new voice comes from behind george. her ears perk up instantly. the voice sounds…familiar somehow. 

“hi,” the man appears from behind george, smoking the last dregs of a cigarette. he stops right in front of her. juliette tries not to stare so blatantly, but it’s not easy when he’s so obviously attractive. 

his hair is curly, huge, half-falling in his eyes, eyes that are framed with the longest lashes she’s ever seen (unfair!). he’s also a good couple inches taller than her. juliette refuses to look any lower than his face though. for one, his shirt is entirely unbuttoned. and his jeans are quite low-waist. (not that she hasn’t stolen a couple sneaky glances, especially at the tattoos)

“jules, was it?” he nudges her a little and jules comes back to earth.

“yes, hi!” she says, suddenly chipper. from behind him, carly waggles her brows at her. 

“i’m matty.” he holds out his hand much like george had, and when jules takes it, it feels warm around hers, it sends tingles down her spine. 

“are you seeing us for the first time?” matty asks, still holding her hand, not that jules minds it very much. she nods. 

“we’ll have to make an impression then,” he smiles, just the right amount of cocky. jules almost blushes. 

“i guess you’ll have to,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “although i don’t think that should be too much work? my friend was raving about you,” she points at carly. matty doesn’t look. 

“is that right?”

jules nods, barely holding back a grin. 

“i’ll be more interested in what you think though.”

this time it’s her turn to lean in a little, turn her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “is that right?”

when had she learned to flirt with someone within minutes of meeting them? especially weeks after her breakup?!

matty’s about to say something when someone interrupts him, tells him they have to go up in five. another man who’s just as tall as george, except he has a buzzcut and a sparse beard. (jesus how tall is everyone?!)

matty winces apologetically and finally lets go of her hand. 

“stay after the show, yeah?” he asks, hope written so clear all over his face. jules smiles.

“only if you impress me.”

matty laughs, a sound that lingers around her, right before he disappears behind a throng of people.

jules scrunches her eyes shut and then makes her way to the wings.

the show is the best thing she’s ever seen, matty is the best thing she’s ever seen—better than max could ever be. he smiles at her so many times too, winks like a proper rockstar and basks in the attention of all the girls at the barricade. jules watches him until she can no longer stand it. 

it’s like watching max. sure matty's infinitely better, but the similarities make it hard to just stand there and enjoy the show and dance like carly is next to her.  

anything to do with max is not something she can stand right now. 

so right before the last song, she hugs carly and makes an excuse. carly’s having too much fun to stop and have a chat, not that jules wants her to. 

she looks at matty one last time, at the way he stomach flexes when he hits a high note. then she turns before the regret can set in, before she can think about the hope on his face when he'd asked her to stay.

no matter how much she wants to, jules doesn’t stay after the show.

[enek-jokanen]

Okay, so....

The alchemy in TMAGP is pretty well established by this point - especially with our Full-Metal-Alchemist Gravity-Boy and his doggo and Celia and Colin's deranged little ramblings.

So. Idea:

-The Alchemy seems to be like, the base 'magic' system in this world if you want to call it that.

-The Fear(TM) part of things almost seems to come secondarily to all this magic ink and odd object stuff going on.

-In fact, most of the statements mostly focus on desire, rather than Fear(TM) as we saw with Ink5soul in ep. 20.

-Now, Celia came into TMAGP most likely through some multiverse shenanigans. We last saw that happen at the end of TMA. With the fears.

Now, considering all this,

-'Hard Reset' seemed to purely focus on alchemy - I wasn't really getting Fear(TM) vibes from it, so to speak.

-The 'Protocol' seemed to purely focus on destroying 'forbidden alchemy', so to speak. Not anything Fear(TM) related.

-The main thing in that episode seemed to be Isaac's pursuit of that odd, messed up alchemy.

This leads me to think that the Fears(TM) were not originally part of the TMAGP universe.

BUT sometime recently, through multiverse happenings, they came in and messed up the alchemy or the entities that provide the alchemy in the TMAGP universe.

In turn, I think this may explain why the OIAR works in the way that it does. Stopping a world-ending scenario where we all go mad or something - as Colin said - now no longer relies on stopping alchemical experiments if the Fears(TM) and the alchemy have merged. No, you would have to use 'Mercury' or 'Sulfur' avatars to cause fear. This is also why they would gather statements - keeping tally of how much Fear(TM) of a particular type has been caused so they know which external to comission to do something next for it all tk balance out.

Now, this does leave a few loose ends:

-Firstly, what is the purpose of the Magnus Institute? Was it just using alchemy for bad things? Was it trying to drag the Fears(TM) into this world using the 'catalysts', trying to do so with people that may have been avatars in a world with the fears? (This could fit into why they have that statement seen in 'saved copy', perhaps) but I simply do not know.

-What about Freddie? Are they Jon, Martin, Jonah as many people seem to think? Are they the ones watching or is that just the British Government? Did they come over with the Fears - and if so, why did their voices only appear so recently? Are they good beans or evil beans? Again, I have no idea what to make of it. I think at this point we may not know enough.

-What about Klaus? Lena tried to kill him for some reason - and he did also have some tattoos if I remember correctly. What is up with that? We've heard of him like twice but like-?

So yeah. Just some thoughts after the season 1 finale. Feel free to add or disagree regarding my deranged little rant.

Now it's time to go sit in a cupboard and drink capri-suns till season 2 comes out.

[sanjoongie]

Library of Illusions~ Historical Fiction Section

Pray To Me

📚Part Four for the Library Of Illusions Event

📚Pairing: High Priest! San x Goddess! Reader (f)

📚Genre: Fantasy au, Historical au, Egyptian au 

📚Warnings: mentions of a knife cutting san's palm, reader drinks a cup of san's blood, oral (f receiving), dynamics switching, penetrative sex with no barrier, thigh fucking, strength kink, breath play, f and m orgasm

📚Word Count: 4,295

📚Rating: 18+ MDNI, smut

📚Summary: lost amongst the sands of time, you become a goddess visiting her high priest, sucked into a narrative that seeks to pull you into it forever

📚Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland the best beta readers a writer could bribe have

↫The Science Fi Section ↭ MasterList ↭The Adventure Section↬

The History section held books that looked like they came from every walk of life--and timeline. This time you did allow your eyes to select the story you were going to dive into. There was a papyrus scroll with a rawhide tie. At the center of the knot was a snake. When you pulled the rawhide knot, the scroll unfurled and flew to the floor and grew to the size of a door. The center of the scroll was transparent, and within you could see a golden throne and endless blue skies over sand.  

The pressure of something watching you was more than just a feeling now. You could swear that there was an actual presence looming over you, like the entity was here you just couldn't see it. "I really hope you're some secret support system that's getting stronger as I get through these stories."

Out of nowhere and also right beside you, you heard a laugh. It haunted you, curling inside of your skull and bounced between your eardrums. 

"Kay, that's super helpful," You said sarcastically. You sighed and stepped through the scroll to your new story.

The heat washed over you before anything else, even though you were in the cool shade, two pyramids on top of each other, base to base. The slim line between the two bases was where you reclined on a throne, gilded and embedded with jewels.

"My Goddesssssss."

A king cobra slithered up to you, offering a bowl with its tail. "Your High Priesssssst is praying to you again. You ssssssaid to notify you when he did ssssssssso next."

You peered into the golden bowl and found the waters revealing a man prostrated before your statue. His bronze skin was uncovered, with the exception of a loincloth, jewelry in abundance, and black tattoos in hieroglyphs that spelled out your name. "Oh Goddess of Secrets, Goddess of the Unknown, I pray to thee once again, to bestow upon me the knowledge that only your most dedicated servants may attain."

"How long since the last High Priest was bestowed the knowledge?" You wondered absent-mindedly. You liked this one. They finally realized that you wanted something nice to look at when you were fed prayers.

"It'sssss been…" The cobra flickered his tongue and turned his head towards scrolls that were gathered on a table. "Awhile, Goddessssssss."

You tap a long nail against your lip. "I will travel to him."

The snake bent his head. "As you wish, Goddessssss." 

You took one step and fell into a shadow. It swallowed you up whole and suddenly your feet were in the place of the statue the High Priest had been praying to. 

The shock written across San's, the High Priest’s, face was almost comical. 

"Goddess." He crossed his arms, fists closed and hitting his collar bones. "I am your servant."

You tipped your head in acknowledgement. "Good Evening, High Priest."

San was now wearing a smile that showed he was both unsure but happy you were here. "To what do I owe the honor of you making your presence known to I, a lowly servant?"

You scoffed at his statement. "Is that what a man covered in jewels and gold calls himself? A lowly servant?"

San pulled off the jewelry without another thought. "The others demand that I wear all the finery befitting of a goddess's favorite. But it means nothing to me."

His hand went to his loincloth next before you stopped him, stepping through one shadow to the next to put a hand on his wrist. "You need not disrobe."

San raised his eyebrows in surprise? "Is this not custom? I read in the old high priests scrolls--"

You shook your head. "You are looking for hidden knowledge, are you not?" You couldn't help but smile knowingly. "You will not find it disrobing."

"But payment is required--" San let out a garbled yell as you yanked his arm upwards and slashed a knife across his palm. A cup was there instantly to receive his blood.

"Seed is not a good enough payment for this particular kernel of knowledge," You informed him.

San watched in complete wonder as you drank his blood, tipping your head back to receive the very last drop. "The high priest didn't mention anything like this."

"The last high priest was not given the gift of receiving my corporeal form, San. His scrolls are lies."

San fell to one knee, humbled that you would give him this information. "Goddess. How dare he?" His voice was stormy with anger. Was San angry on your behalf?

"He dared very much. It was quite entertaining to see how far his lies and trickery would get him. Do not worry, he did not sully my name, San. His heart was weighed and he did not make it to the blessed fields of reeds."

"How may I serve you, Goddess?" San wondered again.

"Receive my knowledge and act in my name," You intoned.

San finally looked up at you. His eyes shined with the determination of a warrior spirit. "It is what I was born to do."

You tipped your head. "Very well. I will give you three chances to decline the knowledge. Once the third time is confirmed, we are bound, you and I, in shadows and mystery."

"So mote it be," San agreed, thumping his fist to his heart.

"You will receive my knowledge from between my thighs. My essence, what is between a woman's legs, is full of knowledge and mystery. Do you agree to receive my secrets?"

San's eyes widened in surprise once again. He looked amazed and like he had been hit on the head at the same time. "Between your thighs?"

You raised your chin. "Do you consent?"

San nodded his head quickly and multiple times. "Y-yes-, of course, Goddess."

You continued. "The knowledge you seek will change your life irreversibly. You cannot go back to your current state of sanity. They will call you the broken one because they will not understand your ramblings but you will speak the truth. Do you consent?"

"I…" San swallowed that kernel of information. "You will break my mind?"

"The knowledge will, San," You told him gently. You cupped his face and he cuddled into it with familiarity he wasn't aware of. You felt new and old to him. He didn't understand the feelings you elicited from him but he yearned for it at the same time.

"I agree," San said in a firm voice, "If the knowledge is the truth, I need it."

You brought your face close to San's and he held onto his breath. "This is the final question, San. This is the last chance to step away. You will not be cursed or out of favor if you decline. But this is the last time you will see me if you do decline. Are you prepared?"

San's eyes shone with the eagerness of a child who wished to know everything the universe could throw at him. "Please, Goddess."

"Upon learning the knowledge I will bestow on you, you will bring the end of the world as everyone knows it. After death comes rebirth. You will be their messiah. You will lead them into the new world. Where once they spat on you, they will raise you above them all. You will save them even though they do not deserve it. What will you, High Priest of mine? Will you endure to save the world you know and love?"

San prostrated himself before you, both legs folded under him as his arms were held above his head, forehead pressed against the cool stones of your temple. "It is an honor to serve you, my Goddess. I will be your messiah."

You clapped your hands and thunder shook the room. "So mote it be."

San stood up suddenly, eyes scanning the room for anything for you to sit on, but what was good enough for a Goddess? You chuckled as his question flew across his face. "High priest?"

"Yes, Goddess?" San's eyes snapped to you, like a well trained dog.

"Pillows will suffice," You informed him cooly.

San scrambled to assemble pillows and cushions, plumping and fluffing the soft mounds until he was satisfied. He smiled eagerly and motioned with his arms that your throne was prepared. You laughed again. "San, they're for you. You're lying down."

San pointed a finger at himself in question. "Me?"

You sighed softly. "Humans."

You put a hand on San's broad shoulder and pushed him to his back onto the pillows. He stared up at you, blinking and curious as you discarded your dress. Two simple flicks of your fingers had the straps leaving your shoulders and your dress pooling at your feet. You were left in a simple chain that ran from your neck to your waist. You placed a knee on each side of San's head and tucked your legs under San's arms. 

San looked a bit dazed, you had to admit. He was looking up at your bare cunt and then he licked his lips. "I…"

"You won't find that knowledge while looking between my thighs, High Priest. Please inform me that you are aware of how to coax pleasure from a woman's petals?"

"I do!" San insisted, his eyebrows furrowing. "I've simply never… this is not my method."

You laughed again. "Of course it is not, San. It is mine."

San smiled, full of sunshine and aw-shucks. "I understand, Goddess."

You rested your weight on San's face and his tongue found your folds immediately. He closed his eyes upon the first taste of your essence. Then his tongue began to eagerly lap at you, simply for the taste, if anything. His tongue traced your inner lips, following the lines of those folds until he found your sensitive nub. His eyes snapped upwards to meet yours as he sharpened his tongue and circled the sweet flesh. 

"You have but one goal in this, High Priest. If you search for the knowledge, the mysteries of this world, and the secrets that the shadows keep, you must bring me to completion and drink me down. Only once you've received my knowledge, will your journey begin. I will be with you for every step, but only you can move your feet. Bring me to--"

Your breath caught in your throat as San's tongue had found your hole and began to thrust in and out of you. You sent him a stern look. "San."

San let his head fall back but the confidence that leaked into his tone was apparent. "Yes, Goddess?"

"Perhaps the women you pleased previously found it charming that you cut off their words but you will find that I am not a patient goddess."

San shivered under you and curled his arms around your thighs that gleamed with the dust of an immortal. "Yes, Goddess. I simply seek to give you everything before I am broken."

You let him get away with this, although you did not show this on your face. "Proceed."

San licked at your entrance, your essence beginning to accumulate there as a result of his hard work. Sometimes he closed his eyes to take in everything his eyes could not and sometimes he would not even blink, as if he was drinking in your reactions instead of your essence. His tongue was certainly skilled, flicking with accuracy. 

But it was not until you pushed his hair out of his eyes that he moaned into your mound and shifted upwards. His lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked, hard. It brought you to place your hands on the floor, bracing against the stone. The reaction only made him more enthusiastic. He greedily sucked at your swollen flesh, tongue lathing back and forth until you felt your climax approaching. So soon? Were you not a goddess? Was this really how you were to bestow the knowledge of--

What if you didn't get your key?

"Stop!" You demanded hoarsely.

"Goddess?" San let his head fall back. 

"This isn't right," You said and you could feel the fear aching from your heart.

"Am I…am I not--"

You stood up, your pleasure forgotten. This wasn't right! You weren't a goddess and San was not a High Priest. But then what were you? Or San?

"Have I offended you? Did I do something wrong? Please, let me try again, surely I can--!"

You turned on your heel and met the eyes of San that were now full with tears of disappointment. 

"Do not patronize me, San. Just because I cannot say what is wrong at this moment, does not mean I am wrong."

A gleam suddenly appeared in San's eyes, one that held knowledge and amusement. "He said you were strong."

You narrowed your eyes at San. "He who?"

San pouted but it was not genuine, it was a mockery of a true pout. "But we were having so much fun!"

"I can win this yet," You said with determination. "This game of yours will not swallow me whole."

"Would you up the ante, traveler?" San cocked his head curiously.

You knew you had to win a game but then why would San put you as the one in power? Was it a ploy to suck you into said game concretely? You had broken the cardinal rule and you weren't playing with him now. How did this game work exactly? 

"High Priestess?" San lured you back to his world.

"I am--" You blinked profusely. You felt yourself being pulled in deep, despite your desperate attempts to stay afloat. You had to…

You were on your knees now, prostrated before the God to whom you worshiped since you were dedicated to this temple. San was the God of Secrets, the God of Mysteries, the God of knowledge unknown. Your thirst for knowledge had shot you to the High Priestess role and it felt like you were born for it.

"I will bestow upon you the knowledge of the unknown. I will slip between your thighs and penetrate you, but only if you allow me the honor. This is the only way for the seed of knowledge to enter you. Others have attempted to receive it through their mouth but," San chuckled darkly, "They did not survive. Do you accept this method, High priestess of mine?"

You nodded quickly, sharp jerks of your head rattling the heavy earrings. "The honor would be mine, San."

San cupped your jaw, thumb running over your lips. "Although it will be a shame for these lips to not pleasure my cock."

"San!" Your hands moved to his loincloth, made of shadows, but his other hand slapped them away. 

"Go make yourself a bed of pillows and I shall be the one to worship you," San commanded.

You scrambled to do as you were told, your nerves making you jittery. You hadn't felt this excited for sex since… well, awhile. Men often found their pleasure between your thighs and it was up to you to find your own. But to receive knowledge through the act, surely that was truly as it was meant to be?

Knowledge…to be received…were you here to win a game? Weren't you here for… a key?

"Goddess?"

San was before you, on his knees and a hesitant hand resting on your hip, unsure if he was allowed to touch you.  "I am worthy, am I not? To receive your knowledge? I am worthy to be between your thighs?"

You smiled tenderly down at the man who fed you with his prayers. "You are my chosen one."

San smiled so happily, it made his eyes disappear but his feelings did not. "I am yours, mind, heart and soul."

You carded your hand through his hair and then gripped it tightly, making San hiss in pleasure with the tightness of his scalp. "You are mine, San. No one shall touch you after this. A celibate High Priest is what I require. Your only pleasure will only be sought through me, is that understood?"

San was pliant in your hand and he began to whimper. "Yours, Goddess, I'm all yours."

You pushed him backwards and he caught himself with his elbows holding his upper body up. His eyes were eager and excited. "My pleasure is yours."

You turned to discard your dress, spun of shadows and mysteries. Your cunt ached for that skilled tongue--wait, was this first time you had shown yourself to your high priest? How did you know his tongue was skilled?

You spun around on your heel but San was standing in front of you. His skin sparkled with the dust of an immortal. His arms were crossed over his chest and your lips ached to kiss his bronze flesh. He was the god you had dedicated your life to worshiping, he--

He's a demon

San was grinning like he knew of a joke that would make you belly laugh. "Oh, he should be worried. You're going to give him a run for his money, aren't you?"

You needed to get that damn key!

The scene reset again and you decided that this was the final time. You were the goddess and you were going to get what you came here for. San was a formidable opponent but this would not be the last story you experienced.

San bent his neck in acknowledgement. "Yes, Goddess. It would be my honor."

"The knowledge is inside of you, San. But you need me to release it. I'm the lock and you're the key. Come between my thighs, release the seed of knowledge and your journey will begin."

You were standing upright, the dainty body chain and glimmer of your body your only ornaments. San gripped his hard cock and rubbed the tip against your clit. Pangs of lust echoed your lower half.

"Does that please you, Goddess?" San wondered, eyes dark with lust.

"Just like that, San, you're doing--" You choked on your words as San pulled your body against his so that his cock was now nestled between your thighs. 

His mouth was at your neck, licking and sucking the sensitive skin there. You let out a garbled noise as San began to thrust between your thighs. He moaned loudly, the top of his cock running along your wet folds and the sides of his cock pushing through the plushness of your thighs. "Feels so good," San whined.

"You have to release inside of me, San," You insisted, "Stop this--" The length of his wet cock running across your clit was wonderful, however.

"You taste like ambrosia," San murmured against your skin. Your hand cupped the back of his neck to encourage him. "Let me have you for an eternity," San whispered into your ear, "We need never stop."

San cocked one of your legs, palm supporting your thigh from underneath. He continued to run the head of his cock up and down your slit, precum and your earlier wetness making the job easier. "I--"

San entered you and anything intelligent that was about to leave your mouth was gone. His girth alone was something to be pleased about. He stretched you in a way that was pleasant and pleasurable. You could only whimper as it went on and on and you were surprised once he was full hilt inside of you. Your leg was curled around his slim waist. San's hand traveled along your thigh to finally get a handful of your ass. "You are everything I need, my Goddess."

"San, why--?"

San captured your lips in a passionate kiss that stole your breath away. "I have dedicated my life to you. Shouldn't I dedicate this moment to you as well?"

"Fuck me, San, fuck me so well I’m incoherent," You encouraged him. 

"As my goddess wishes," San ducked his head and did as he was commanded.

The waves San made between your thighs would make the Nile jealous with its strength. He wasn't doing it to be rough or hard, no, it was the quiet strength of a river carving a new path through rock. The accuracy with his hips rivaled that of his tongue. Each measured stroke inside of you gave you butterflies but pulled a moan from your mouth. Your breathing came out in sharp cries and pants. You so very much wanted to beg but you were supposed to be the one in control, so you instructed him. 

“Let’s come together, High Priest.” Your hands sought his chest, raking your nails down the muscles there, enjoying the red marks that followed.

San's arms moved to circle your upper body, squeezing and squeezing as his climax soon approached. Your breath became shortened as your own pleasure sought release. You came with a tiny squeak, barely any air to make a noise. Once your pussy walls clenched down in climax, San was gone, coming with a long, drawn out whine with you. He released you after his orgasm and air rushed into your lungs.

San had squeezed you so hard that you had a scratch in the valley of your breasts. San licked it up instinctively and you shivered. "A goddess' blood is not for mortals to taste," You scolded him in amusement 

"Neither is their essence nor their sweet depths, but I've tasted both," San said with a sweet, lazy smile, slow to grow. 

"If I didn't have a consort, you would be tempting, High Priest," You sighed, tapping his nose.

San's face fell in disappointment. "I wasn't lying. I have dedicated my life to you. Could I not receive the same in return?"

You shook your head. "You ask for too much."

San's voice turned cold and you shuddered. "You can't defeat him, you know."

"Defeat who, San?"

San rolled his eyes and sighed. 

The air tensed, warping and stretching and suddenly it snapped and you were back in the History Section. San was no longer covered in black hieroglyphic tattoos but a vest that barely covered his broad chest, leaving his stomach exposed nonetheless, shiny leather pants and wrist high gloves. San found the scroll you had disappeared in and snapped the snake off the rawhide. He handed his key to you but kept your hand in his grip tight.

"What do you think happens when you get all the keys?" San questioned you.

"Seonghwa unlocks the restricted section for me and I get the treasure," You said without hesitation.

San snickered. "All those six hard quests and it's just that easy?"

That made you uncertain. He was right. Surely there would be more than just the six trials. But then…?

"Surely you haven't been talking about Seonghwa this whole time, have you? He's more like the library's adopted cat than Keeper of the Keys."

San's face was sobering. "You'd do well not to underestimate the Keeper."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "He's not intimidating in the slightest. You worry too much for a demon."

San shrugged. "Well, I did my best to warn you, Goddess."

Your mind was sharpened after the History Section. You did not let it wander with thoughts of what you just experienced but you did find yourself searching out a very specific smell that brought you to the desk that Seonghwa always seemed to occupy.

"Did you really get cookies?" You demanded incredulously.

"I'll have you know I found Wooyoung in the creepy doll house, singing some creepy song just so I could bake you these!" Seonghwa frowned heavily.

You were about to grab one when you remembered many many stories of fools who ate food of a realm and were stuck there for eternity. Maybe eating the cookies was a bad idea.

Seonghwa watched you with sad eyes as you took your hand back from the plate. "Key?"

You handed him the snake and watched him as he lifted the cover to the display case and sunk it in with the other three. Which reminded you immediately to confirm your suspicions.

Seonghwa turned around and his eyes widened to the size of saucers when you unbuttoned your shirt and there was a pyramid nestled between your breasts now. “San give you that?”

You half smiled back at him. “Seems so.”

Seonghwa licked his lips. “Only two more to go now, huuuu…huh?”

You laughed under your breath at Seonghwa’s new attempts to stop calling you human. You were sobered at the thought of just how deep San’s story had pulled you in, however. You barely fought back. And San kept alluding to a ‘him’ but never confirmed or denied that it was Seonghwa or not.

“Keeper?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes snapped up from staring at the pyramid tattoo. “Yes?”

“You are who you say you are, are you not?”

Seonghwa smiled, full of awkwardness. “I am the Keeper of the Keys. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You searched his honest face for a hint if Seonghwa was lying. “Is there another section I don’t know about? Another demon you’re not to tell me?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

You sent him a skeptical look and he shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. I’m leaving. Try not to miss me too much."

"Guess I'll eat these cookies myself," Seonghwa grumbled under his breath. You heard spitting noises followed by a "Who put raisins instead of chocolate? WOOYOUNG?!"

The next section had a sign that was a wooden oar, vine's draped around it and the word Adventure spelled out using iridescent beetles. You could hear the chattering of monkeys and the roar of a waterfall. You really hoped you survived this next story. You had a feeling that the fight to survive and revive your love was slipping from your grasp but you refused to let it go without a fight.

Tag list: @yoonguurt  @hijirikaww  @flowerboykun  @starillusion13  @flurrys-creativity  @kitten4sannie  @a-soft-hornytiny

Library staff: @kwanisms   @smallfrye  @anyamaris   @stardragongalaxy   @kpop-stories-21

↫The Science Fi Section ↭ MasterList ↭The Adventure Section↬

[cybercore-creations]

I just killed my Ex

Summary: Survivor!Danny x Fem!GF!Reader. Song fic based on "Kill Bill" by SZA

TWs: Murder, Stalking, Obsession, toxic relationships

She couldn't stay away. No matter how hard she tried, she still slunk around the survivors camp. Oh, how she wished you could just take him away, keep him all for herself, but unfortunately, kidnapping was not a perk that came with being the entity's favorite. Their blood boiled as he smiled at the blonde standing next to him. That smile should be for her. Her robe flowed in the wind as she turned around, leaving the area.

Of course she started with the mature idea. She spoke with other killers who told her that nothing ever good came from falling in love with Survivors. Nurse knew that best. Of course killers would make passes at eachother. Some strong bonds, other casual hook ups. "There was always other people" Amanda said with her arm around Hunteress. Just like Danny had Kate right now. No. She only wanted him and if she couldn't have him. No one could.

They were swept into the fog on a date. Danny loved nature walks, taking photos of everything. She loved them for scoping out a new base. Then the fog came. Pulling them apart. The entity was a sick bastard. At the beginning, she avoided killing Danny at all costs. When the entity finally threatened punishment, her hand (Well knife) was forced. But with him? No fun quips or a fucked up mori. Just a hook and moved on. He couldn't protect Kate then. That's when she had her fun. She'd rather put herself through the pain of killing Danny to get to the tattooed woman.

Every day, she hoped it was a fling. Danny was always a charmer. Girls practically threw themselves at him. After she found them walking hand and hand together in the woods like they used to do. "I wish I had my camera, you're the perfect model." He laughed. How she tried to spare him pain, but now the rage overcame her. Now, he'll be a victim like the rest. He didn't deserve her kindness anymore.

Danny and Kate were pretty much attached at the hip especially during trials. It made her sick. She wouldn't deny how beautiful Kate was. Shiny golden hair, perfect figure, intricate tattoos littering her skin. She couldn't blame Danny, he always went for the alternative girls. The fog swept over her as the trial began. Pulling up her tablet to see what survivors were playing his name was right on top, Kate's next to him. Now people would consider it fucked up for the entity to do that, but she smiled. Guess The Entity was reading her thoughts, giving her exactly what she wanted. She was ready to have him face down in a basement, snapping a pretty photo of his bloodied face.

Was it petty? Yes. She could have definitely been the bigger person and started treating him like everyone else. A victim, A piece of meat, apart of the game she had to win, but sadism was in her blood, even before the fog. She promised Danny she'd never hurt him when he first learned she was Ghostface, but promises get broken. He must of knew that as he protected Kate with everything he had. Now he was just a toy to torture however she wanted.

The first time she snapped a photo with him as he died, she sent a rush through her. It felt good. She expected it to break her heart like it did when she killed him regularly, but she was smiling this time. Though she still didn't give him the pleasure of hearing her voice. Even with the distortion by the modulator, he didn't deserve it. Easily hooking him up and laughing as the entity took him. In the distance, she watched a familiar woman run for a hatch. "Will this girl ever learn?" she mumbled, chucking her knife at Kate, directly hitting her in the neck. Huh, guess casual axe throwing with Huntress came in handy. As she came back to the camp, the other killers stared at her before Frank spoke up. "Huh, I never expected you to do it." "Love makes you do fucked up things kid." She sighed pulling her mask off. Nurse hugged her "Proud. Strong." She whispered barely speaking.

"What was that?" Claudette looked wide eyed. "Ghostface always goes easy on you Danny, what did you do?" "I'm... not sure?" He said, a bit shaken up with how quickly the behavior of the killer changed. "Well, he came the same time as you. Do you remember anyone it could be?" Dwight asked. Danny shook his head.

"Hey, maybe it's a girl." Nea suggested."No way. there's no way a girl could have killed him like that." Jake cut in."That is so sexist. The killer could easily be female. Basic Instinct." Nea rolled her eyes. "That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same as brutally bashing someone's skull into the concrete after they're dead. Takes a man to do that." Jake argued. "Or a man's mentality." Nea raised her eyebrows.

They didn't notice the killer hiding in the tree. "Huh, he really forgot about me." A slight hurt filled her chest. She KILLED for him before the fog. How could he forget that? How could he forget everything about her? Suddenly, that pain wasn't heartbreaking. It was rage, and it was no longer towards Kate.

All the other survivors were dead. The last hour was a game of Cat and Mouse between. "Oh Danny. Why are you running." She called out, pout in her maculated voice. Danny's hands shook slightly as he worked on the generator. Quietly she creeped next to him. "Boo" She whispered next to his ear. As he got up he attempted to run, only to be shoved to the floor.

"Danny, Danny, Danny" She sighed "What to do with you" She stood over his back. "You know if you would have stayed loyal the entity wouldn't have served you to me on a silver fucking platter" She laughed sitting on his back. "What?" He breathed out. She drove her knife into the back of his back like she'd done many times before but this time was different. She pulled up her mask over her lips and pulled him up by his hair. Her warm breath fanning over his ear. "Smile for the camera sweetheart." Click.

[apolloendymion]

emergency divination readings!🃏🔮☕💎🕯️

tarot, runes, tea leaves, pendulum, and crystals!

(info on my situation here)

for $5, you may choose one of the following:

single card or rune (see deck options below)

tea leaf reading

crystal chip scattering (see crystal list below)

pendulum reading (see pendulum options below)

add-ons:

additional cards/runes [$1 each]

my cat will choose your card(s)/rune(s) (see cat pic & bio below) [$2]

my dog will choose your card(s)/rune(s) (see dog pic & bio below) [$2]

I'll recommend a deity/spiritual entity to guide you based on your query and results; you may ask for an entity from a specific culture if you'd like (open practices only!) [$5]

please dm me with proof of payment, your choice of divination method, any add-ons or preferences, and a clear, single-sentence query. you may provide extra context to assist with the reading. tips and dona.tions appreciated.

🕯️ vnm 🃏 cshpp 🔮 gfndme ☕

options and photos of my equipment (& cute pets!) beneath the cut:

deck options:

standard smith-waite: tiny (smaller than a US quarter), pocket size (comparable to a business card), and standard size

nonstandard smith-waite: the somnia tarot by nicolas bruno (incredible photography project. eerie, dreamlike, liminal, yet the physical props give it a more grounded, tangible feel than your average deck.), the tattoo tarot (stunning art, if you like clean but complex designs, classic playing card artwork, or traditional western tattoo art, this deck will really resonate with you.), the literary tarot (each card depicts classic literary characters from around the world; deck sales benefited charity. my personal favorite. every detail is carefully crafted to appeal to book lovers. elaborate, shiny, magical. also they gave odysseus top surgery scars)

specialty decks: the caretaker (@cryptotheism, formerly @normal-horoscopes)'s normal tarot deck (completely original oracle deck, feels liminal and dark, but somehow peaceful; great for someone pondering deep mysteries or looking for advice in hard times), moreno & quijada's sonoran tarot (smith-waite's major arcana only; stunning and vibrant watercolors of sonoran desert wildlife. really showcases the power and wonder of the natural world. local purchase from indie artists who I've personally met)

if you'd like me to use a specific tarot spread template, please let me know. otherwise i will choose the best option for your query + number of cards. you can also pick a spread mat, if you like! you don't need to purchase enough cards to fill the mat; i can get creative with the placement. just let me know if you want the floral mat or the bunny mat:

other options:

pendula: metal (this was a gift and i don't know what it's made of; brass maybe? gold in color.), howlite, glass beads with sea turtle scene

crystal chips: red jasper, various quartz, flourite, lapis lazuli, lace agate, tigers eye, sunstone, sodalite, bismuth. all stones can be thrown, or you/i can choose 5-10 specific stones that resonate with your query.

runes: elder futhark, white clay, handmade. wyrd optional.

my kitty cat, nachtus:

nacht came into my life through my current girlfriend, who has had him since he was born. every time she went into the room with his litter, he scrambled up her pant leg like he knew she would be his favorite person. he's about 2 years old now, and loves cuddles, belly rubs, q-tips, waking up our boyfriend in the middle of the night, bothering people while they're gaming, and sitting on my gf's shoulder like a parrot.

my puppy dog, misha:

misha came into my life through my current boyfriend, who has had him since he was a puppy. he was a rescue, along with his brother oakley, who went with my boyfriend's sister. misha is a chug (chihuahua-pug mix) and is estimated to be around 8 years old. he loves cuddles, being swaddled in blankets, barking at strangers, lying on the softest pillows he can find, and zoomies!

thanks so much for taking the time to read this. it means more than you know.

[certkidwhocantdomath]

(Mod by @mortal-kombat-1)

Coldstar Headcanons, Part X: Interpretation of the Shadows

• After getting his powers, Johnny has been able to hear the lies and secrets of others.

• These lies and secrets come in the form of horrifying monster-like shadows that are heavily based on the sins and appearance of this person.

• These shadows and Johnny's new powers are inspired by nyoomian's comic on Webtoon and the main character Daph. Johnny and Kenshi are basically Daph and Tom, you'll see why later.

• Johnny has a shadow version of himself but it's just a pitch black entity outlined by glowing purple and glowing purple eyes with fangs similar to that of a Tarkatan.

• Johnny calls this shadow "John" and John is based off Alastor's shadow from Hazbin Hotel and Mr-eatyourheart's Tarkatan Johnny fanart. John can also be considered a more dark and serious version of Johnny as he is a manifestion of Johnny's self-loathing, low self-esteem and low self-worth.

• Johnny's ability to see lies and hear secrets works on everyone, even Shang Tsung and Liu Kang. Well, everyone but Kenshi, who's ancestor is blocking out his powers.

• The backstory of Johnny's powers is different. Instead, when Johnny was stabbed by General Shao, he unlocked his Arcana because it was a moment of crisis. The marking is on the back of his neck.

• Arcanas will now be a part of my headcanons, watch the Mortal Kombat 2021 movie so you know what exactly Arcanas are.

• Instead of Raiden getting burned by Kuai Liang, he simply unlocked his Arcana. Same goes for Kenshi, Kung Lao and Tomas who unlocked their Arcanas.

• Decided to say goodbye to the sigils and markings on Cage Match Johnny and say hello to the tattoos from his MK1 "Splits and Fists" skin. He still keeps the earrings though.

• John was accidentally created when Johnny had a mental breakdown. Like a mentioned before, John is a personification of Johnny's negativity.

• The reason for Johnny's large amounts of negativity is his father, Robert.

----ANGST----

(Johnny will be refered to as Janet and a "she/her" for now as this is the past)

• Robert was an abusive man and Jimmy(Janet's older brother) helped Robert beat Janet up in places he couldn't go or when he was at work. Jimmy basically bullied Janet in school and his friends(the bullies from Cage Match) helped him.

• Rose didn't know of this because she was a cop and she had work to do. So when Rose saw Janet constantly coming home covered in bruises, she assumed it was bullying and she sent Janet to the local dojo.

• After Janet finished her training, she beat up her brother and his friends.

• But eventually Robert and Jimmy took it too far. Rebbeca was held down and stripped naked by Jimmy, who was angry at Janet for beating him up, and Robert, who was drunk, tried to rape Rebbeca.

• Luckily, Janet noticed and had enough. She grabbed her brothers baseball bat and beat them both to near death. But maybe too close to death.

• Robert died due to a fractured femur and pelvis, cracked skull, smashed rib cage and blood loss.

• Janet called Rose, told her what happened and what she had done.

• When Rose came home, Jimmy desperately told his mom that Janet needed to be arrested for what she did but Rose simply handcuffed Jimmy and said that he will be the one to get arrested.

• Rose comforted her girls and praised Janet for her bravery. That was the catalyst that made Janet decide to go all around the world and train in different martial arts and fighting styles.

• Janet eventually told her mom she was trans and Rose used Robert's money to pay for the surgery(as a last "fuck you"). That was the day Johnny was born.

• Johnny told his mom he planned to go to Hollywood soon and Rose simply told him to pack his things now as he might forget something.

• At this point, everything follows the Cage Match plot. Johnny sees a snatcher, beats him up, the dude who got snatched was a big director and he decided to turn Johnny into a star.

[ishipgenfics]

What If Desire Captured Hob Gadling?

This is based on tattoed Dream by @designtheendless (although Morpheus doesn't have his tattoes quite yet in this) so if you want to see what Morpheus looks like once he gets his tattoo or you just like really good art, go check them out!

This is also kind of a prequel to another thing I wrote based on the tattoo au, so here's a link to that!

"Desire, stop this!" Dream shouted.

"Oh?" Desire said lightly, stepping closer. The screams of Hob Gadling rang out in the backround, a chorus to their conversation. "And what will you give me for that, brother dear?"

"Don't give 'em anything, Dream," Hob croaked. He let out a choked wheezing laugh. "I'll be fi-- aAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

The screams broke out again. And Dream-- Dream just couldn't.

Maybe he was foolish, and maybe he was mortal, but couldn't just stand there while the man he loved was tortured like this. Not if he could do something to prevent it.

"Anything," he said. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it, but as the screams instantly cut off, and Hob fell to the floor he couldn't bring himself to regret it. "Anything. Just stop."

Hob let out a groan, but then appeared to pass out.

Desire smiled. "Well then, Dream," they said. "Let's talk."

"What do you want from me?"

"So blunt. Well, if you insist." Desire paced circles, and Dream very suddenly felt like he was being hunted. "I am going to wipe your little... what is to you now? Did you ever admit he was your friend?"

"I did," Dream said.

"Oh." Desire seemed almost... disappointed. "Oh well, no matter. I'm going to wipe his memory."

Dream stopped breathing. He didn't technically need to breathe in the first place, but he'd gotten into the habit, and the effect of it stopping was very similar to what it would be on a mortal. Panic, and fear.

"You what?"

Desire's face split into a bright grin. This was better than they could have possibly imagined. "I'm going to wipe his memory, dearest brother," they said. "Or rather, his memories of you. He will still know he's immortal, but his stranger is a very pretty entity with golden eyes, who cruelly left him in 1889 and never came back." They leaned into Dream's face. "He will know you only a collague of his." Oh goodness, was he crying?

Dream frowned, confused. "But I do not work as a mortal professor." He shook his head and straightened himself up to his full height. "It matter not. I shall be on my way now, fair sibling, if you don't mind..."

Desire nimbly stepped in front of him. "Oh, I didn't say you could go yet."

"I paid the debt. I agreed to your terms."

"You said anything, dear Dream." Desire grinned. "That means anything."

"Very well. What else do you want from me?"

Desire's voice was like the hum of molten metal pouring. "I want to erase your memories too. You asked how Hob believing you are only his colleague would work? It's because as far as you know, that's all you will be."

"Who will run my kingdom? Who will watch over the dreamers? You would really justify the order of the universe just for a petty feud?"

"I think I've made it very clear that I would, Dream."

"And this is all?"

"Hmmm," Desire waved their hand in the air. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Desire, please. Even you cannot be this cruel." It grated at Dream's pride to beg, but in truth he had nothing left to lose.

Desire sighed, and Dream searched their eyes, hoping to pick up some sliver of sympathy in them. "Very well. If you somehow manage to get your power and memories back, this specific promise shall become null and void."

"Thank you."

"I'm only saying that because it's impossible!"

Dream smiled slightly, reminded of the days when him and Desire had been friends, and their teasing had been games and not plots to destroy the other. "I know." He bowed his head. "Just... make it quick?"

Desire cupped their hand around Dream's cheek, almost gently. "Goodbye, my brother."

The last thing that Dream of the Endless saw was Desire's golden eyes.

Morpheus woke up on the side of a road.

[armchairaleck]

Twin Peaks/Dragon Prince thoughts

Okay so I was never going to write a post that combined two of my sorta diametric interests - namely The Dragon Prince cartoon and Twin Peaks, even tho I've low key considered it.. but then they literally put out a fricken dream scene with Viren, Kpp’Ar, Sparklepuff and Opeli explicitly mirroring Twin Peaks.. so now I guess I will ramble on for a long time about this despite not really having anything sensible to say…

First up – massive spoilers are ahead for both Twin Peaks and TDP Season 5… Twin Peaks is in my view one of the most weird and interesting television shows ever made - like it's very David Lynch, so I guess you'd have to like that vibe - BUT if you haven’t seen it and are at all interested in watching it, and don’t want very essential plot elements spoilt please don’t read below this cut.. IT WILL SPOIL STUFF!

Not sure anyone will be left at this point, but a very condensed speed run of the twin peaks plot for the sake of drawing out some parallels later:

Laura Palmer is found murdered in her small home town where a veritable list of ner do well characters who are possible suspects also reside. Call in special agent Dale Cooper to solve the crime, so far, so police procedural…

This is when the plot starts to go a little left field - as well as the drug smuggling, illegal casino, insurance swindles, arson, doubling crossing, false murders, real murders, faked deaths, real deaths that are just part of everyday life in this quaint little rural US town, a portal exists to a place called the red room or the waiting room and to the white and black lodges which by and large represent forces of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and hold within them certain denizens who might help or hinder, or just be completely bizarre and unintelligible depending on their inclinations...

One of the evil denizens is Bob - Bob is pretty much the representation of pure evil, he possesses people and encourages them to fill his own base desires.

After a certain amount of investigation the original crime is solved, the presence of Bob and the lodges is revealed and the show gets a whole lot weirder as it moves through the rest of the second series and the third (set 25 years later)

At the end of season 2 the good Dale Cooper goes into the red room and gets stuck in there while an identical version of Cooper emerges but this one not so wholesome and possessed by Bob.

There’s a lot more to it, but I’ll get into the relevant points and possible, tho probably very tentative TDP parallels as they come up.

Anyway to break it down.. in the short scene we see we have Kpp’Ar - here I believe framed mirroring the role of the one armed man, Mike, he could also be framed as the giant theoretically but given the arm/bandage motif I’m going to say he’s the one armed man..

The one armed man used to run with Bob until he saw the light and changed his ways, and he cut off his arm to do this a little drastic perhaps? because he had a tattoo on the arm that linked him to Bob. So a possible parallel here to Kpp’Ar having also realised his dark magic/blood tie with an ancient evil entity and trying to rid himself of it through cutting it out of his arm, go, go my guy. The one armed man acts as one of several pretty obtuse guides for good Cooper in the show.

Will Kpp’Ar come back and do this for Viren? Eh probably not, I can’t even speculate on that sort of thing, so let’s leave that parallel there.

Right, Sir Sparklepuff also gets a little cameo as the the arm/the man from another place.. a cryptic clue giver who speaks unintelligibly and also has some natty dance moves..

So the arm is a fairly ambiguous character, he hangs with the evil denizens, he hangs in the waiting room, he helps, or he doesn’t, it’s pretty vague.. he is the part that was cut out to remove the evil influence, but I’m not sure where that could go if anywhere… Onto Viren, who is framed taking the role of FBI agent Dale Cooper, Cooper goes into the red room for good reasons, he wants to save his girlfriend Annie… unfortunately he doesn’t and instead he gets stuck in there while his doppelganger possessed by Bob escapes and goes on to run merry havoc for the next 25 years…

Bad Cooper is a corrupted figure who can give corpse face Viren a run for his money annnd… he also has black eyes… nice…

This is just how your eyes go when you're evil.. so err.. stay good kids

On the other hand it does look like you have a lot more fun going feral

Meanwhile the good version of Cooper has to escape from the waiting room, and trust me, it takes a long time…

Then we have Opeli as the log lady.. now the log lady, also called Margaret Lanterman, we are given to believe was once abducted as a child by aliens (there’s a pretty strong interest in conspiracy type stuff in twin peaks without it ever completely leaning in and going there, well I guess it does, let’s just say there are a lot of things beneath the surface) Margaret grows up just fine though, but on the eve of her wedding night to a fireman there is a fire in the woods, and hubby to be goes and gets himself killed fighting the flames. Margaret takes a log from the scene and caries it round with her ever after with it being heavily implied that the spirit/soul of her almost husband is in there and passes her messages with regards to some of the goings on in the town.

Hey Opeli guess what? Rayla's breaking into Viren's study... ahem..

Like anyway why did Opeli get this role? I have no idea, she's the only available female character?? Anyway Opeli says backwards the line - the jelly tart you like is going to come back in style.. the log lady does not say this in the show, but there is a pivotal scene where all the murder suspects in the Laura Palmer case are gathered together and the guilty party is approached by a white lodge denizen and told that gum you like is going to come back in style.. that's how they find out whodunnit.

So the premise of Twin Peaks is that the guilty party is also shown to be possessed by evil entity Bob and it raises some interesting questions within the fandom regarding an individual’s culpability for their crimes or whether the possession was the root cause of them and I feel like I can’t really dance around it anymore so I will say again if this show sounds interesting and you want to watch it unspoiled with regards to the murder STOP READING HERE.. also I will be going onto the darker themes of the show and you are warned they are kinda dark…

...

Right okay it was her father, Laura’s father, Leyland, possessed by Bob raped and abused her for several years and then murdered her and others when it became clear she knew it was him.

Now every time Laura was abused in the show she sees the face of Bob not her father. There is debate whether this is trauma projection, whether it is in fact evil entity Bob controlling the father’s actions… I mean there’s a lot of interesting stuff to go into, but I won’t, because I only want to look at the possession angle here.

Okay, onto the topic of possession and free will, specifically with regards to Viren and also dark mages in general.. so we have seen Aaravos possess Callum explicitly, based on one use of dark magic, whether he was able to do this due to Callum’s proximity to the mirror... not sure? He also possesses Viren very obviously on a couple of occasions, but they also have the blood tie... so it's likely that dark magic allows Aaravos to exert his influence on those who practise it as has been explored by others.

Anyway there is another factor I have kinda been low key wondering about - whether the staff of Ziard has certain possession/persuasion potential.. now I’m not going to come out and say the staff holds sway over Viren and tells him what to do because this puts a certain absolution on Viren’s actions that I don’t think is justified by the narrative BUT I do also think it would be kinda cool if Aaravos with his links to the stars and future predictions had a way of seeing what might happen and engineering his own deliverance through the push/pull of the staff.

Not betting any hard cash on this theory...

We don’t know when Viren first gets the staff, I have to re-watch that dream sequence and possibly wait for puzzle house because I have at least some thoughts it might be what Claudia finds in there.. but he doesn’t have it in the Puzzle House pages I’ve seen and he does before Magma Titan because he takes it with him..

So... I don’t know if there is a slim possibility that while the staff might not possess a mage it might subtly lead them towards an end goal - slaying an archdragon say, who holds the mirror window into Aaravos’s prison, and thereby allowing the dark mage to come into possession of said mirror and thereby setting the whole train of freeing Aaravos in motion..

Now fine, this is a bit of a stretch, could easily be Viren is simply fuelled by his desire to kill a dragon out of revenge/hubris a desire to rekindle his relationship with Harrow (ahem) but I kinda like the idea that there is a very subtle pull leading him in that direction through the staff, and Aaravos does at least seem pleased to notice that staff in his possession, while Viren visibly shies from it throughout much of s4…

This could mirror a little with the possession/influence themes of Twin Peaks - there is a ‘good’ Cooper and a ‘bad’ Cooper, but they are really the same Cooper and it is the flaws in the good that allow for the evil influence of the bad to take hold - Cooper has a weakness for trying to save women in peril, it gets him in trouble… Viren seems to have a weakness for power and doing anything for his family, however dangerous, however vile - personally I don’t really like to read stuff purely in terms of a good/bad white/black dichotomy.. but I do like character flaws leading to the wrong path and imperilling your soul.

This all inclines me towards the Aaravos is pure evil and the Prometheus and even Lucifer stuff was just a bit of a tease. In Twin Peaks the unleashing or at least the amplification of evil in the world is linked very explicitly in one episode to the dropping of the atomic bomb, this is framed as a cataclysmic event during which mankind press the button on their own potential annihilation...

s3 episode 8 - I don't think will ever be surpassed for am I hallucinating or is there something very weird on my tv at 4am vibes

I know there have been some links between dark magic and nuclear power parallels made by other people but I can’t remember the details and it has always been something I’ve kinda chewed around a bit without having any specific thoughts or beliefs on, other than ouch corruption looks a lot like radiation burns… but I can see an analogy for something that is created to both serve humanity giving us a fairly unlimited power source, while also giving us the ability to pretty much obliterate ourselves and the planet which - tbh best not to think about how close that has already been...

Dark magic is clearly a force that can be used to benefit humanity, healing, feeding 100,000 people etc, etc.. but it is also being lined up as something that holds its own peril, that probably isn’t a power to be wielded by inconsistent, unreliable and sleep deprived humans, and it’s been given to them by Aaravos? Like I think that has not yet been explicitly stated in cannon but the signs are all there.. so hmmm..

Anyway all told this has led me down quite a few lines of thinking that I don’t really have any definitive conclusions for because they are by definition not issues that can be neatly tied up with a bow... at least not by me.

Then Viren is pretty much comatose for the rest of the season much like Coop/Dougie is season 3 of Twin Peaks.. rip my guy...

Viren having the standard reaction of anyone trying to work out wtf is going on in Twin Peaks

Anyway I have never seen any fellow Twin Peaks fans out in the Dragon Prince wilds, but if you’re out there please come and rip this to shreds if you want.. I have a sieve like memory and I’m usually pretty wrong about most stuff, plus I wrote this after 4 hours sleep due to the drop time, sooo please excuse any mistakes...

[sometimesraven]

[slides into your dms] hello i'm coming to you with this because you're the only one of my dash who will have the context to consider this but...

karlach in a dead by daylight crossover where the entity snatches her on the brink of death to become a killer.

thoughts?

Oh, interesting. Dare I say evil? It's an idea I've never even considered but now I'm considerin' it

Functionally as a Barbarian I'm sure her gameplay would be reminiscent of the Oni (honestly realistically she'd probably be a skin for him if she got added to the game) with a rage meter that allows her to instadown a Survivor if she hits them during it. I don't think she'd be as fast as the Oni in a Rage though, but maybe she'd also gain immunity to Blind while she's in it. Maybe it would fill up based on how long she's in Chase for rather than blood, which would be an excellent looping foil but still workable for the survivor.

Visually she'd probably be a lot more scarred up, maybe with some new tattoos styled after the Entity as marks of new ownership. Her engine might beat black or perhaps look a little more orange and ichorous like the Blight.

There's a bit of lore that I can't remember if it's fanon or canon but it says that the Entity fucks up, tortures and/or mutilates its Killers if they defy it, so I reckon Karlach would have a few more scars. Maybe that's what the new tattoos are. Maybe one of her eyes is blackened or her broken horn is.

Of course, then there's the Backstory(tm) which i went mad with as soon as I read this ask. The Entity feeds on the loss of hope, so I had to imagine in what circumstance K would completely lose that spark she has through the game. My thoughts, of course, turned to the possibility of her having to return to Avernus after everything she's been through in-game.

--

The stench of Avernus had almost become comfortable. Familiar. There had been hope, once, that she would return home to Baldur's Gate. To life. But that hope had died somewhere down here and was rotting with the rest of the corpses she had left behind.

Karlach could barely remember who she was before, nor how many eternities had passed in the grip of this endless Blood War. Her skin was no longer her own, marred and marked by claims of ownership and scars alike. Flames licked at her arms, her legs, her breasts, burning fingers never leaving her be. Her chest, hollowed and replaced with infernal machinery, churned and rumbled in time with the ceaseless war drums. The only company she had were her comrades doomed to die, and the devils who owned her every breath and memory.

Her axe plunged into the skull of another lesser demon, feeling the easy crunch as it tore through bone; the weight of the blade as it was dragged down by the corpse before it lifted free with a spurt of blackened blood. She would have been ashamed, once, of the pleasure this brought her. The power. The only control she had down here -- to choose her targets well and kill them swiftly by any means she chose. After everything she'd sacrificed, that control was the only reward she could cling to.

She blinked, and the demon became a person. A young man, broken in the grass, light missing from his glassy eyes as they stared at her, widened and frozen in the terror of his own death. She remembered, then, the tears in her companions' eyes as they sent her back to Avernus after so long trying to find a cure for her failing heart engine.

She remembered the despair coursing through her as she realised she had no other option.

She remembered fighting her way through the hordes again, losing the vigour she had always fought with before. No more rage. No more hope. Just despair and bitterness at the cards she had been dealt.

Perhaps she grew a little sloppy. A little careless. Let in a strike that should have been easy to parry. Allowed the demon's blade to tear through her flesh. Allowed the pain; the only thing left to remind her she had ever been free.

She remembered the panic as blood clogged her throat and choked her breaths. What had she done? Was this really how it would end, alone here in the darkness to be forgotten like every other Gods-damned creature in the ash?

She expected the fires to take her. She remembered the thick, dark fog that blackened the air around her instead, carrying her somewhere unknown.

Her new war. Her new home.

--

oops i posted this on AO3 as well because crossposting is good posting

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 807: The Rolling Stones Hackney Diamonds

This marks the end of my Stones posts. And given their age, this album may come to mark the end of The Stones as a recording entity. And as far as I'm concerned, we're going out on a high note.

Even the diehards will admit that The Rolling Stones peaked decades ago. And the diehards will also probably agree that by the time the '80s were in full swing, The Stones were a legacy act with little new to offer. No one is gonna canonize Undercover or Dirty Work. There were still hints of their magic sprinkled throughout their work through the '90s and into the first half of the '00s, but really, people held onto their love for The Stones based on their earlier classics and their continuing reputation for putting on a solid live show.

Maybe there was some sort of creative rut for the Stones. Some loss of purpose. Some struggle to hold onto their original sound while moving forward. I've been playing music long enough to know the tricky balance of pleasing the old fans while keeping things fresh and exciting. The Stones had become a nostalgia brand, and that brand generated a lot of money. Were they putting out new albums to keep the merchandising and ticket-selling machine in the public eye? Or was there some genuine creative joy embedded in those later records that just wasn't translating? Everyone knows Mick and Keith's friendship deteriorated over the years. Was that rift behind the waning quality of their albums?

And then there's the big question: did the world need a new Stones album in 2023? It'd been eighteen years since their last batch of new material. While there were defenders of A Bigger Bang (2005), it didn't convince anyone that the band was back in top form.

I was skeptical. But on a long solo drive across Eastern Oregon last fall, I decided to give Hackney Diamonds a listen. I'd already listened to Exile on the drive, followed it up with Tattoo You, and figured this might actually be my last chance to listen to a brand new Rolling Stones album while they were still active. I put on Hackney Diamonds as I drove across the high desert and, to my surprise, it sounded fucking great.

No Stones album has ever hit me on first listen until Hackney Diamonds. The band doesn't try to do anything new. The production is big and shiny, but it still sounds like a real band. Jagger doesn't address our tumultuous world like he might have back in the '60s, and maybe the album's odes to turbulent relationships are a little simplistic. But maybe there's actually more there than we hear on that first listen. Are "Angry" and "Bite My Head Off" just your typical songs about having a spat with a lover? Or is it about battling the public's expectations? Is "Depending On You" another forlorn love song? Or is it actually a plea to Richards?

Curiosity also drove me to read the Pitchfork review for Hackney Diamonds, who unsurprisingly shat on the band for "acting their image rather than their age." The remaining paragraphs go on to rail against a wealthy band wringing more money out of middle aged men. I'd counter that people as rich as Jagger and Richards don't really need to take the time to write another album and take another year off from their private lives to go on tour just to be a little bit richer in their eighties. And pandering to middle aged men seems no less noble than pandering to the twenty-something youth market that Pitchfork depends on for advertising revenue (and hate to break it to ya, Pitchfork, but your initial fanbase is middle aged now).

Is it shameful to grow old? Is it shameful for Mick and Keith to keep doing the thing they've done for 60 years? Is it shameful to love what you do and to try to hold onto it for as long as possible? Sure, maybe at some point the magic ebbed away, but the band always had their highs and lows. And if Mick and Keith drifted apart, perhaps the passing of Charlie Watts reminded them that their days were numbered, and they could either pack it in and become mired in the rusty stasis of old age, or they could go out in a blaze of glory.

I refuse to think art and music are creative pursuits that only belong to the young. Sure, I wanna hear music made by excited young people, but I also wanna hear music made by people my age. And I also want to hear music made by people with decades of experience who know exactly what they want, exactly how to do it, and how to have a fucking blast in process.

And that's exactly what Hackney Diamonds sounds like. If the story ends here, then it provides a satisfying narrative arc to the history of The Stones. Excellent work, Glimmer Twins.

[josephseedismyfather]

OCs as aesthetics for the entities

Thank you to @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, and @simplegenius042 for this tag! 😘 And apologies now, because this is gonna be a loooooong post! I sucked it up and did all 3 of my babes 😳Feel free to skip on by if you want!

aesthetics for the entities, part i. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Harley Jane ❤️

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

Evangeline Rose 💛

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

The Dep 💙

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

Woowww that's a lot! Mostly did this one for me, but tagging everyone anyway in case you want to take a peek! @wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @villageofshadow, @ocdemon-747, and whoever else wants to play. Tag me! 😘

[maranull]

Melina thoughts of mine:

1) she could be Marika's daughter much the same way Millicent is Malenia's. Both parents are empyreans who's children are human sized

2) I can't think of any reason why she couldn't be both Marika's child and the GEQ, it definitely seems like the conflict would be very consistent with Marika/golden order's history of betrayal and alienation of family/ allies

3) what if the ranni/Melina connection is less siblings and more of a Radagon/Marika situation.

4) the frenzy ending is the only time we see her physically interact with anything, this coincides with the destruction of the erdtree/torrents whistle, which I think implies that she was bound (sealed away as punishment perhaps?) to 1 of them, most likely the tree imo

Don't really have a grand theory myself yet, but I would love to hear your thoughts on each of those ideas

Ooooh, thank you for the ideas and the excuse to talk about Meli.

1) I'm 99,99% certain Melina is Marika's daughter. Both because of her dialogue and the fact that "Melina's internal name in the game files is "MaricaOfDaughter". (x <- trivia section of her wiki) The comparison with Millicent is something I never thought about, but a) it's brilliant and b) it makes even more sense. I am now 99,999% certain that Meli is Marika's daughter.

2) She could, but the reason why she is not the GEQ is how opposing their characters' motivations and actions are. The GEQ hunts gods and demigods, Melina wants to make you one. Also, following the default ending, you are made Marika's consort, restoring the order Marika had formed. The GEQ was Marika's nemesis, why would she want to restore Marika's order? Going by the descriptions of her followers (you know, the guys that casually wear the skin of their kills as clothes), the GEQ was one of the most ruthless and violent entities in the Lands Between. Melina is one of the most protective and kind characters we meet (based on how she treats Boc and the Mimic Tear from the cut-content, all her incantations when fighting, the fact that when dying she forms a small, healing tree to assist and protect you even with her final breath). ... If she was the GEQ, she wouldn't have need of us to travel. The GEQ still has followers loyal to her, why would she need a random Tarnished? Throw the whistle on one of her Apostles and just use them as a means to travel. If she was the GEQ, why are all her incantations Erdtree based (and healing instead of damaging) and not Black Flame?

Sidenote: the GEQ came to power maybe at the same time with Marika, and there's also the possibility that the GEQ was even older, maybe a Queen before Marika, serving a different Outer God..? Per the Godskin Noble Robe description: Nobles are the most ancient apostles who are said to have assimilated inhuman physiology. Not unlike the crucible, the Erdtree in its primordial form. (x) The GEQ could had been Marika's family, like a sister or a mother or something, but not a daughter.

3) I don't know... Maybe? They do seem opposites in the way Marika/Radagon are. And they do both have that freaking eye tattoo that I can never fit in any other theory. But at the same time, their goals do align in a way (contrary to Marika/Radagon's shenanigans). Melina wants to bring back death and a natural flow of life in the Lands ("This world is in dire need of repair… and Death…indiscriminate…"), and Ranni wants freedom for the creatures in the world (mainly freedom for herself, but she does extend it to everyone). I don't subscribe to them being one, but I think it's one of the most solid theories.

At any rate, I'm certain that they know and probably are in friendly terms with each other due to Melina (Torrent's "former" master) trusting Ranni with the Spirit Calling Bell.

4) Yeah... But also she is the one that gives you the whistle to call Torrent, which is a physical tool. Also, she beats the living hell out of Morgott when you summon her (sorry gramps). I don't think she can't interact with the world, she just can't move that far away from the Erdtree and Torrent.

(also times two, she holds your hand and if you are telling me that you can't actually feel it, I'm gonna riot ＞︿＜ )

I think she's bound to the Erdtree. And maybe the whistle is made from the the bark of the Erdtree, allowing her to "cheat" and move around as long as she has him..? Dunno.

~

I don't really have a all-encompassing theory either. The few points I have are that,

Melina is Marika's youngest daughter

Melina's goals aligns with Ranni's

Melina is kind and curious by nature

Melina wants to restore the natural circle of life that Marika broke by sealing the Rune of Death, which is why she calls for "Death…indiscriminate…"

I could probably write a better theory at some point, if y'all wanna read it. But me making a proper theory wasn't the ask, so Imma shut it for now. :P

Thank you for the ask!

[adthedarkcowboy]

Fallen Muriel Part 4

( today a may have wrote a 1444 word narrative for school based on the ineffable husbands.) (edit: it got an A)

Crowley didn’t say a word. He just stood there,staring at his upset angel. After the argument, Crowley was sure that he’d never see him again,but there he was. Standing in front of him.

The serpent was so caught up in thought that he’d not noticed Muriel handing him his sunglasses. He took the dark sunglasses and put them on,hiding his snake eyes.

Aziraphale was trying to keep his composure with Crowley-who he believes tempted the poor ex-37th degree recording angel scrivener-,but just before he begins to yell at him, he notices something on the right side of Muriel’s neck. There,lay a little moth tattoo, similar to Crowley’s.

At this point Crowley was staring with the angel, in shock that he hadn’t noticed it later.

They were both staring at the tattoo, catching Muriel’s attention.

“I’ll give you two a moment to talk.” They said, leaving.

Falling breaks an angels cheery personality,Muriel’s especially. They’d been quiet,even though Crowley has tried to get them to talk several times. Now Hell, is what makes a fallen angel into a true demon. It’s a big change;going from a holy entity with mercy, to a demonic one with no mercy or care for others.

“They’re awfully quiet. It’s not like them.” Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked over to Aziraphale, still surprised at him standing there. “What exactly do you think I did,Angel?”

“You tempted them! And you tried to tempt me away from heaven!”

Aziraphale seemed different to Crowley. Like he was turning into Gabriel-not how he is now,but before. He wasn’t like he usually was when he was mad; something in his tone was more aggressive. Suddenly Crowley’s thoughts were stopped.

“ Firstly, they’d told me they fell because of fraternizing. Secondly, how could I have tempted you away from those toxic bastards ?!”Crowley yelled.

Aziraphale seemed to blush slightly, and a couple of his tears were daring to fall out of his eyes,so he turned his head to the side,sighing semi-quietly. The tears were a mix of angry tears and actual,depressing ones.

“You know how you tempted me.” He replied barely above a whisper.

It took Crowley a moment to realize he was talking about the kiss. Aziraphale took it as a simple temptation,and not six-thousand years worth of love that’s been buried. Love that was only shown as something a friend would do.

Crowley had nothing to say-nothing that he could’ve atleast.(come on ,it’s the ineffable husbands,they suck at communicating) So he just tried to find something clever to say.

‘I’m a demon,Aziraphale. I tempt people,it’s my job.’ Is what he’d wanted to say,but he couldn’t. Something in him knew that it would make Supreme Archangel Aziraphale smite him with his flaming sword. But in Crowley’s head,that didn’t seem like a terrible death. It was either being smitten by angel, or drink some holy-water he had left. It was just a drop,but a drop was more than enough.

“Right.” Crowley started. “Well I didn’t tempt them,alright. I’m not sure who in heaven told you that,but they said they fell because Micheal told them they had been fraternizing with-”

“Micheal told them it was fraternization?” Aziraphale repeated.

“Yes, angel.” They both went silent and Aziraphale crossed him arms trying to figure out what to do.

“Listen,” Crowley started. “You and I both know how toxic heaven and hell are. We can agree on that much. And they aren’t going to just stop being toxic…I mean unless you’ve changed them.”

Aziraphale had tried, lord knows he had. He’d suggested things, but every time it was pushed to the side.But he simply couldn’t. So the only thing Crowley got was an angry sigh from his angel as a ‘no’.

“What I’m trying to get at here is that you can believe them if you want-”

“No Crowley I don’t believe them!And what I want is to….” Aziraphale shouted, straightening his unfamiliar grey blazer as he calmed down. “No. I don’t believe them, but I have to agree with them,Crowley.”

Aziraphale has gotten curious one day and asked Uriel why Gabriel was demoted from heaven, to which she showed him his file. Upon watching the reason for Gabriel’s demotion, Aziraphale collected that if he were to disagree with heaven in anyway,he’d be demoted with no memories of anything. None of crêpes, books,The Ritz, and none of Crowley.

“Well,I suppose there’s nothing more to say then.” Crowley said.

But there so much more to say. To talk about. This was their first time they’ve saw eachother in three weeks, and they both were still felt so mad. Not at eachother,but at how things ended between them. Aziraphale had to hold back his emotions every time Crowley called him ‘angel’. It was like a gift and somehow a painful reminder each time it was uttered from Crowley’s lips. But for now, this will have to do.

Aziraphale turned back around towards the door. He truly didn’t want to leave, he wanted to run back to Crowley and kiss him, like Crowley had done with him. He put his hand on the door knob(does the door have a doorknob?) and turned it,leaving the serpent alone.

The angel walked to the elevator, going back to heaven. He thought about Crowley, his bookshop, and tried to think of how Muriel would handle everything.

Finally up in heaven,Micheal and Uriel approached him.

“Well, did you get your confirmation? I had a feeling that you went down there for that reason.” Micheal said cockily.

Uriel seemed to hold back somewhat of a chuckle. “I bet that serpent lied and you surely didn’t believe,did you?”

Aziraphale back smiled at her. He could lie, very well actually. Not like a demon would, stretching the truth till it snaps in two. No. Aziraphale tells little lies.

“I did get my confirmation, Micheal. And he actually admitted to tempting Muriel.”

Micheal tilted her head to the side a bit. “Really?”

“You have my word as supreme archangel.”

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 45

How can this be? There's a Heist 3?

Scar meets May and May drops the bit of info that Scar's tattoo is based on Xingese Alchemy. He also mentions having a brother who was killed by a State Alchemist (likely Kimblee based on that dream Scar had in chapter 16).

Al does bring up a legitimate concern on the condition of his body. Ed's idea that he and Al might have crossed wires and Ed is providing nutrients to Al's body does feel a little far-fetched when first brought up though. I'm with Winry on that.

There's still more info gathering to be had, and just like with the library being destroyed before Ed could find Marcoh's notes, Lab 3 has been tampered with to keep Ed from investigating the tunnel system Al and Roy found during the Super Heist. And then Danny gives them the notice about Scar which includes the tattoo detail. So now Ed has reason to believe Scar was the Rockbells' murderer.

And then Ed decides to plan out Heist 3. Since some organization is always blocking their attempts to gather information, and the Homunculi are tied to that organization, and they need Ed alive for their future plans; if Ed's life is in danger, someone will have to show up to save him and then they can try capturing them.

But how?

This probably the first time Lin has revealed to anyone that he and Lan Fan can detect the Homunculi. This is also the first time Ed has gotten along with Lin since they met in Rush Valley, at least until Ed discovers he has to foot the bill for Lin's eating binge AGAIN.

The whole bit of Ed repairing everything in Central flowed like an advertisement. It opens up with a problem. The product (Ed) is shown shown in a flashy manner as it solves the problem while telling you about how great it is. Then a different problem is presented and we see the product (Ed) can fix that too. Then we have a montage of the product (Ed) being used for all sorts of scenarios. Finally, we end with a grand reminder of the product (Ed)'s name.

Ed even winks at the 'camera' at one point. Meanwhile Al is playing the hype man throughout the whole 'ad'.

Roy shows up and has an info exchange with Ed. Ed learns that Dr. Marcoh's been kidnapped and if Ed wasn't aware of it, Lust is dead. Something that occurred to me is Roy never heard Lust's name until after Breda's report. At this point, all parties collectively know there are at least 4 Homunculi (Lust, Gluttony, Envy, Greed). Lust is dead so she's no longer a major concern. Meanwhile, Greed's whereabouts are unknown. They know Greed and Envy's abilities. Gluttony is the probably one they know the least. Lin and Lan Fan are the only ones who know anything about how Envy and Gluttony fight. Also, Lin and Lan Fan are aware there is an entity named Pride, but they don't know anything about that one.

During the info exchange, Roy had to lean against the car and would periodically clutch his wound.

Ed is starting to push harder for info on Ishbal. Roy just changed the subject entirely.

When Scar attacks them, Al pulls Roy out of the way.

Ed and Al let Roy in on the plan for Heist 3 and he eagerly joins in to play diversion and miscommunication tactics. He seems to be a little too eager to cause mayhem and confusion amongst the higher-ups.

I love how Ed mockingly called Roy "Lord Colonel" and then Al used the same term when getting Roy to join in on Heist 3.

The couple Hawkeye robs at gunpoint are that rich couple from chapter 17.

This is the first time Ed and Al have fought alongside each other since Al gained the ability to transmute without a circle. Their combo barrage of stone pillars really show how different their aesthetic tastes are. Ed made his pillars have dragon heads so the attack is supposed to be like him summoning monsters to attack. Al made his pillars a bunch of fists, so he treats the attack like a long-range punch.

Ed got hit on the head and his wound from Slicer reopened.

I wonder how that "negating the destructive energy" thing works. Was this some equal and opposite direction kinda force that cause both attacks to disperse their energy outward? Or did Ed maybe transmute his arm to keep it stable despite Scar hitting it with destructive force?

I wonder why Wrath decided to get involved in the first place. Maybe it's because he's the only Homunculus who can safely engage against Scar without causing suspicion. I'd guess the plan was to have Gluttony track Scar since HQ is getting multiple conflicting reports and then Fuhrer King Bradley would personally stop the terrorist who's been taking the lives of his soldiers.

When Wrath decided to attack, he was very deliberately targeting Lan Fan. The Homunculi know she was able to detect Envy and she was the one who remarked on Gluttony within earshot of Wrath. So as far as he is aware, Lan Fan is the only one who can detect the Philosopher's Stone and is therefore the much higher priority target between Lin and Lan Fan.

And of course, the question a new reader might ask is "Why didn't they detect Wrath's presence as well?"

Also, we can see that Wrath was jumping off the large nails embedded in the power pole Lan Fan was on. He didn't run up the pole.

And now for the last installment of the chronology thing.

Last chapter ended in the early morning, and Scar meeting May is also early morning as well. However, Ed and Al's scene prior to the start of Heist 3 takes place at night. So I would argue these two scenes take place in reverse order. Ed goes to visit Lab 3 and Danny finds them and gives them the notice about Scar's reappearance. Then Scar meets back up with Yoki the next morning.

At this point, all parties have converged on each other and the next several chapters aren't going to take place over multiple days so that's the end of the the time disturbance saga.

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