#vantablack timeline

[oldxenomorph]

anakalypteria (part one)

pairing: nyx/the reaper emperor warnings: sexual content (sex with an eldritch entity, tentacles, size difference, subtle transformation), 18+ summary: zagreus asks nyx if she has a companion, a partner, someone who she loves and calls significant other. the question brings forth the memory of her and the emperor when the universe was young.

Desire turned into hunger; eager to make domains of each other’s bodies, eager to worship each other, eager to be inside each other.

---

480 BCE (100 YEARS AFTER THIS CYCLE’S DISCOVERY OF THE CITADEL)

“Don’t you ever get lonely down here, Nyx…?” Zagreus asks.

It was rare to find Nyx in the House’s lounge, away from her corner of irises and lilacs in the East Wing. A moment’s reprieve from responsibilities, she was drawn to the idea of enjoying a drink by herself, to be alone in her thoughts. Yet even in the company of others, Nyx is always alone in her thoughts, always drifting back to something beyond this domain. The ache of yearning, a longing that pulled at her, like gravity.

Routine has returned to the House of Hades, though some things still needed to be dealt with. The thousands of years since what happened has left changes in its wake, changes that the House needed to adapt to, to ensure that what happened does not repeat itself. On the surface, the timeline of human history continues, mostly news of another war that manages to trickle its way down into this dark place within the Earth.

The primordial goddess cast her eerie, starlight gaze upon the Prince of the Underworld, turning her head slightly towards him. The stars about her head blink like eyes, they glitter with the incandescence of celestial bodies that will one day collapse into black holes. Bright, pulsing, heavy. She merely studies him, sensing that he was not done speaking.

“For companionship, I mean.”

Her eyes shift away from Zagreus to the glass on the table before her, regarding his question with silence. The shimmering indigo liquid mimics the great vastness of the dark sky, her darkness that swallows the Sun and blankets the Earth. It swarmed within the glass, folding in on itself an infinite number of times, the particles never settling, noise in the liquid keeping it churning; the signs of Her presence were everywhere, they would never leave the goddess again, even in Her slumbering state.

---

THE COSMIC DARK AGE (370,000 YEARS AFTER THE BIRTH OF THE UNIVERSE)

<How would you like me to touch you?>

Nyx looked up at the Emperor, taking in all of her great form.

The entity had many arms, ten to be exact, each with hands that had long and sharp and spidery fingers. An elongated and segmented body with hundreds of legs. Her exterior was black and chitinous, biomechanical in nature. Ten large tentacles, emerging from the Emperor’s back, curling around her body and her environment; they supported her great shape and extended her reach beyond the veils that concealed this space. A face, pale like a white star, with red eyes and black lips that when pulled back in a smile revealed sharp black teeth and tentacles deep within her mouth, black and writhing and slick from the blessed tar within her. Her face stood out amongst all the shiny blackness of her body, like the singularity of a black hole, like the ultimate point of extinction.

And black hair, beautiful and long vantablack hair.

The question was a simple one, but it still touched the heart of the goddess. It was the way it was asked, in the abyssal tone that entered her head, a softness that tempered its deepness.

Desire had been growing within both of them, Nyx had felt it the first time she was held by the Emperor’s tentacles, when her hands kept her close when they slept together, whenever she smiled, whenever she laughed, whenever she sweetly kissed her cheeks. She had felt arousal for the first time when the Emperor curled her tentacles around her, holding her close, as her great upper form moved to protectively cover her when she received a visitor. There were long stretches of time where she spent exploring the Emperor’s strange and beautiful form until she committed every detail to memory. She learned all the areas she was most sensitive, the areas where she enjoyed being touched the most, and her mind would wander; her fingers lingered a little too long in places that elicited low sounds, her eyes devoured the sight of the Emperor’s body in all its horrific glory, her mouth deepened their kisses. Desire turned into hunger; eager to make domains of each other’s bodies, eager to worship each other, eager to be inside each other.

Nyx’s long midnight black hair melted into the domain’s darkness, adorned with the glittering remains of stars from previous universes and jewels from Nyog’sothep’s own collection. Sheer fabrics threaded in every shade of violet and lavender, trimmed in gold, draped over the goddess’s form, leaving nothing to the great entity’s imagination, a delight for her eyes, beautiful and enticing. She moved closer to the Emperor and reached out to hold her face.

“You may touch me in ways that bring me pleasure, Extinction,” she said, placing a kiss on the entity’s black lips. A low sound came from the Emperor, akin to a hum, as Nyx slipped from her grasp, moving downwards, eagerly seeking that which ached beneath the being’s hard and shiny black exterior.

Her touch prompted the response of many hands slipping underneath the violet fabrics, pushing them aside to reveal all of her beautiful form. A breath left Nyx as she felt great tentacles move over the softness of her body, all of her curves. Some took turns carefully preparing her. The goddess’s objective became sidetracked as her arousal took precedence, her body responding eagerly to the way the great entity touched her. She moved as close as she could to the Emperor, leaning back against her as she was cared for, loved so much that she could not help but arch her back, let out moans and gasps as pleasure surged through her.

In the midst of the haze of lust that filled her mind, Nyx turned her body around and returned to what she originally wanted: she slipped her fingers between sections of the Emperor’s biomechanical carapace, and coaxed out her arousal.

---

“Why do you ask such a question, child?” The Night finally speaks, her voice ancient and ethereal.

Zagreus sits in the chair across from her. There is a slight quirk of Nyx’s brow. The Prince rarely stops moving. It is even rarer for him to sit down or sleep in his own bed, unless his beloveds beckon for him to join them, and the sounds of their lovemaking leak out from his doorless chambers. Ever restless, even after all this time and everything this House has gone through.

“Because… I mean, just look at you, you’re very beautiful, the Night Herself! There’s nothing you can’t do.” He gestures to her, all of her, before pausing. Nyx watches his hands as they then smooth over the tiles embedded in the tabletop, the way he briefly glances down in thought before raising his head once more, the fire-licked laurels in his coal black hair flicking embers and ash into the air with every movement. “When I was younger, I thought you and father, you know, but… is there not someone else?”

Nyx retains a painfully neutral expression. She has heard this before, a rumor she had tolerated over the years because it protected Persephone. Sometimes, it ate at her and when it did, the House bore the subtle changes that reflected her mood; rooms that were colder than they ought to be, skeletal faces in the walls making sour expressions, the grout between the tiles rotting and turning black. It should not have bothered her, but the truth is, it had.

It makes the waiting all the more torturous.

Things are different now. Hades and Persephone enjoy their existence together, with their children. Motherhood had been denied to the Queen of the Underworld twice. Nyx admires her determination to make up for lost time. She watched from her corner of the House how Persephone held her children a little more closely, how she touched their faces, how she often told them how much she loved them. Such sights always brought a small smile to the primordial goddess’s lips.

A hum leaves Nyx, the soft vibrations of sound coming from a warmth deep within her chest, her mind lingering on the question: Is there not someone else? She has kept many secrets from Zagreus, most of them for his own well being. She has kept many secrets from her own children, also for their well being. Secrets safeguarded behind her stoic expression and long silences.

“Surely that is not the only reason why you are curious.” Nyx pries open his motivation, seeking out the origin to the Prince’s fascination with her personal life. (This was not the first time.) Her hand rests on the stem of the glass with her drink.

---

The Emperor ached in her hand, the delicate nature of Nyx’s touch made it throb. The goddess felt the way the great being’s body moved against her hand, seeking more from her, how it became hard and desperate to be within her. All just from her touch, all from her love. It was the Night’s turn to prepare her, carnal desire coiling tight in her core at the sight of the Emperor aching and needy in her hands. Nyx lowered herself to place kisses upon the Emperor’s body, her lips leaving violet imprints upon the oil black chitinous material. She marked the Great Lord of Extinction as hers. She could stay like this forever, kissing her and devouring her until her jaw was sore, until all the stars died.

When the entity removed her tentacles, the goddess made a soft whine at the feeling of emptiness. Hands touched her face, long fingers eagerly moving over her body, their sharp ends tantalizing against her soft and sensitive skin. For a being of such immense power, the Emperor was gentle and tender with Nyx. She asked for permission and the Night Incarnate gave it, wholeheartedly, enthusiastically.

Shifting her position so she was laying down on her back, Nyx took the invitation to climb on top of the Emperor. Seeing the great entity beneath her made her heart thump, ichor rushing in her veins, warm anticipation swarming in her fingertips. Many hands guided the goddess, holding her as the Emperor slowly and carefully eased herself inside. Nyx let out a sound, a moan that came from deep within her, leaving her lungs upon an exhale. The jewel of darkness on her forehead pulsed. Her hunger, her desire, her dreams, her love all coalesced into a singular mass of heat in her body; it consumed her every thought until all she could think about was her need to have the Emperor, to fully claim her, to ride her, to fuck her.

Violet lips parted in an attempt to speak, but all that came out was a breathy moan. Any words she might have had were replaced by ethereal songs of carnal delight as her body acclimated to the entity’s size and strangeness. She sank her fingers into the biomechanical nature of the Emperor’s body, gripping anything she could hold onto, eventually finding the hands of her beloved, a set held out just for her to take, to have, to kiss. Her starlight eyes became glazed with that deep lust for the Emperor, gold like a main sequence star, intense and with the intent of having all of Extinction within her.

<You are so beautiful, O Night.> The Emperor’s voice crawled through her mind. Long fingers pushed back strands of Nyx’s beautiful, midnight black hair, the young stars shivering and dancing along them. Hands cupped her face lovingly. One gently traced the curve of her jaw and drew a line from her chin to her sternum between her heavy breasts that caught her breath. <My beloved Nyx. You will be my wife. I will make you my Empress, my Eternal Night.>

The Emperor began to move. The Night opened up, full of stars, full of darkness.

---

Zegreus casts his mismatched eyes to the side for a moment and furrows his brows slightly, as if in deep thought, trying to find the words he wants to say. Nyx is about to drink until she notices his expression and sets down her glass.

“I was told that something, or someone, helped Melinoë,” Zagreus says at last. The world comes to a crawl, the night on the surface grows longer, the tides pull back farther than they normally would, stars within major constellations begin to go out. Nyx watches Zagreus’s hands as they fold together, fingers slipping between fingers. Her expression softens slightly as she observes him. “She didn’t say much, other than they were specifically very worried about you.”

For a moment, Nyx wonders if Melinoë was keeping certain details about her crusade against Chronos a secret from her brother, to spare him the long story or things that even she had a hard time articulating. Gruesome things that only a goddess of nightmares could have seen like an age that has yet to come; the end of humanity, the end of Earth.

Nyx does her best to maintain her face’s neutral expression. But her eyes soften, starlight glitters. Pressure builds in her chest, it migrates its way to her throat. Nyx knows how worried and anxious and terrified She was, Nyog’sothep told her when she held out the black centipede to her. She remembers how She refused to leave her, Her segmented form and many legs clinging to her arm, her dress, hiding as jewelry, beautiful and deadly. The Night would run her fingers over Her little body while she worked, to comfort Her, to tell Her that she was here.

Lips part to intake a deep breath, pushing her emotions down into her gut for now.

“Many people were worried about us,” Nyx says. It is all she wants to say. She thinks about Chaos, who took on her features out of love for her and was the first to try and get her back. She thinks about Nyog’sothtep who did the unthinkable: she intervened, descended upon the Crossroads to look after the black centipede and gave the Princess boons of power.

“I know, but…. The way Melinoë spoke about them felt different.” Zagreus pauses, his mouth forming a line as he remembers something. “Thanatos always told me that, to his knowledge, it was just you, by yourself. But, I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

The Night Incarnate's lips displayed a ghost of a smile. There is silence at first and then the Night Incarnate finally takes a drink from her glass. She drinks everything.

---

Nyx’s hands moved over the Emperor’s abdomen. She marveled at the way her pale hands looked against the Emperor’s pitch black exterior and at the reactions to her touch. The entity’s hands filled themselves with Nyx’s flesh, caressed her, the sharp ends of long fingers making her cry out in pleasure when they grazed over sensitive areas. Tentacles spread out beneath the Emperor’s body like thick veins. The goddess’s golden starlight eyes intensified with empowerment; an awakening inside her at the sight of this almighty being writhing underneath her, hands worshiping every part of her. She watched the Emperor’s red and black eyes, how they were glazed with an insatiable lust for her, the red nuclear fusion buzzing with love for her and only her.

Every sound that spilled from the Night's lips, every time her beautiful hands gripped and explored her shape, every time their hips met, made the Emperor throb. She held onto her own tentacles, her black mouth parted to let out a deep, rumbling moan, the sound of gravity greedily pulling the Night closer.

<Nyx...>

How the Night herself wanted to run her fingers through the Emperor’s black hair, how she wanted to kiss her mouth. Instead she sank her fingers and her darkness into every biomechanical groove, moving tenderly and lovingly over every texture. Her touch caused the entity’s many legs to twitch, causing her hips to buck sharply, her great body coiling and tightening, her great head pressing back into the cushions surrounding her as the Night’s name was moaned again and again. Her deliberate, careful pace from before became faster.

The Night placed a hand in the middle of the Emperor’s body, commanding her to slow down. The entity obeyed her beloved goddess.

“You are mine, Extinction,” Nyx said, her ethereal voice cutting through the heady atmosphere, the cold air made heavy and warm by their lovemaking. She held the sides of the Emperor’s waist and began to move her hips, truly riding the great entity now. The red and black eyes of Extinction devoured the sight of Night claiming her, using her body to satisfy her deepest ache, enthralled by her beauty in the midst of pleasure. Nyx was pure splendor, the endless void, consumed by an eternal desire and driven to make this great entity hers. Love thickened the ichor in her veins, it made the darkness pulse. “All mine.”

Nyx continued her steady pace, reveling in how the Emperor felt within her. Extinction gave herself completely to the Night, letting her take complete control of her body, encouraging her to take everything she wanted. She existed for the Night’s pleasure.

A low groan came from the great being, a deep sound that came from within her. Nyx felt the vibrations underneath her fingers, pressure within her core mounting, love tightening in her gut. She moved her fingers upwards to find new, untouched textures and grooves in the Emperor’s exterior. When she slipped her fingers into the spaces underneath where her chest began, it caused the entity to buck upwards, desperately seeking more of Nyx, more friction, more and more.

<O Night, my Nyx.>

The Night's hands slipped away from the Emperor’s body to find a set of her hands, holding them, sliding her fingers between those that held her, loved her, worshipped her.

“Give me everything, Extinction. Make me yours.”

The Emperor’s upper body shifted to a slightly upright position, tentacles moving to support her body. Nyx let out a pleasurable gasp as more tentacles wrapped around her waist, joining the hands that held the goddess in place. From the Emperor’s mouth, black tentacles emerge, dripping with the black tar, annihilation in its purest form, thick and viscous and dark. Her moans became deeper, abyssal, as she desperately sought release, eager to fill the goddess. The feeling of the material sliding down her chest nearly sent Nyx over the edge. She pressed her head against the Emperor’s chest as pleasure completely took over her body, as her core opened up the closer she approached her zenith.

With a single motion, Extinction buried herself deep within the Night and gave her everything, Nyx’s name whispered and moaned and crooned from every direction all at once, repeatedly, lovingly. The black tar filled the goddess, thick darkness spreading throughout her cells, into her veins, devouring the golden ichor, swallowing, swarming, consuming. The darkness of the Black Palace pulsated, thrummed in tandem with the Emperor's arousal as it gifted Nyx her material. It felt like her atoms were being drenched in total darkness, extinction claiming her very foundation. The Night began to change, pulled closer and closer to the Emperor.

Nyx could hear everything inside the Emperor: the immensity of her thoughts, the supermassive black hole singing in her chest, the pulse of her desire, the sound of the black tar traveling through her body, the way her breathing and her abyssal groans were further distorted by the tentacles in her mouth. She could hear the roar of her own golden ichor rushing to meet the Emperor's black material, gold eagerly accepting its destiny, eager to be completely consumed.

Sound completely ceased when Nyx came. Black and wet tentacles from the Emperor’s mouth sought her flesh, the sets of hands on her body that urged her towards the event horizon, helped her cross that threshold as pleasure took hold of her body, her senses, everything. She needed Extinction to always be within her, she never wanted to leave her embrace, she always wanted to be engulfed and surrounded by the Emperor’s body, her power, her presence. Her amethyst lips formed the word that was the true name of the Emperor, a sound only to be heard only by them, a word whispered at the end of a long moan, her orgasm intense. Even when it ended, she ground and rocked her hips a little more, needing to ride that final wave of pleasure, that last surge, her core wanting more and more and more. And the Emperor happily gave Nyx every last atom.

When she was completely spent, the Emperor laid back down. Her hands helped Nyx separate from her, not wanting her to spend any more energy. The goddess was even more beautiful now that the Emperor’s black material was inside her; her golden eyes were brighter, her skin was colder, faint black veins could be seen beneath the expanse of her pale flesh, a darkness swarmed within the jewel on her forehead, mixing with the pulsating violet. Subtle changes, but still a beautiful transformation, a sight only for the Emperor to enjoy and cherish.

The goddess looked down to admire her work, this great and all powerful entity that she claimed. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, her own heart pounding, hammering as the black tar began to reach it. The Emperor covered in the Night’s markings, her black hair splayed out and dripping over cushions, her strange body made boneless and lazy from their lovemaking, tentacles tired and slipping from Nyx’s body, multitudes of legs curling inwards. Her red and black eyes looked up at Nyx, eyes full of love and adoration.

“You belong to me, Extinction.” Nyx crawled forward until she was closer to the Emperor’s upper body, her hands cupping the entity’s face. “You are so beautiful.” Nyx kissed the Emperor with a possessive tenderness, a hunger. “I love you.”

<You are mine and I am yours, O Night. My beautiful, beloved Night.> The entity kissed the goddess back as she ran her fingers through her beautiful hair, Nyog’sothep’s jewels and stars still glittering amongst the midnight black strands. She pressed her forehead against Nyx's, her many arms pulling her closer, a hand also cupping the goddess’s face. <I love you.>

---

Nyx sets the drinkware down in front of her. The empty glass makes Zagreus blink at first, then his eyes widen slightly as he looks at the primordial goddess.

A little bit of courage, though it is not the kind she usually likes. Her face remains impassive, a mask she’s worn for eight million years. Nyx counts the millennia and thankfully, there is only a little more than a few left. As soon as humanity leaves antiquity, they will race towards the stars. Everything will happen quickly and all at once. And then things will be the way they were meant to be, the world will be bent into the right shape.

She will have the only thing she has ever wanted.

The waiting reminds her that she remains a prisoner of time, waiting and waiting and waiting. In the dark of her heart, she is a selfish thing that only wants her beloved to awaken, to have all of her majesty and horror all to herself. The Great Family promises she will have what she wants; some nights, even she misses the way the family would bless her cheeks and hands, how they would hold her face, how they would honor her and worship her.

Nyx stands and looks down at Zagreus, her amethyst lips offering a slight smile.

“Well,” she says, “I am the Night, as you observe. The night conceals all. I know nothing of the loneliness which you describe, for I have a companion, an eternal beloved. Additionally, this entire realm… it is a part of me. And its many subjects sprang forth from me, alone.”

“I see-- Wait.” Zagreus rises from his seat, trying to catch Nyx before she leaves the lounge. “There really is someone? Who is it, Nyx?”

The Night Incarnate stops just before crossing the threshold separating the lounge from the rest of the House. She turns her body slightly, looking over her shoulder, capturing Zagreus in the eerie illumination of her eyes, piercing whilst in shadow. Nyx knows her answer will not satisfy his curiosity, rather it will only fuel it. The knowledge will eat at him.

Melinoë is right to keep the truth from him. He will have to wait.

“You will see. In due time.”

[monstersinthecosmos]

omg. thinking about pervert vantablack marius again. do you think every once in a while he keeps the videos he makes with armand to himself? and maybe sometimes he doesn't even record at all, fucks armand purely for his own enjoyment. armand definitely notices the camera being off, the lack of dispassionate fussing over angles and positions, but is too apprehensive to question it. it's weird how the lack of an invisible audience only serves to make him feel more exposed, vulnerable to the extent of this creep's hold over him. it makes him wonder if he'd still do this if it weren't for the money and it sends him reeling that he might. in the end he comes hard at the thought of marius not paying him after, that he'd have let himself be used and degraded for no obvious reward, that he crave it for his own sake. afterwards, when he takes the payment from marius, it's not about the money at all

omggggggggg yes i do :)

the thing about Marius is that in all universes, he's an artist on the inside. and I wonder if he got into this business more innocently, like, he's a pornographer but he wants his films to have artistic integrity, he cares about lighting and set design and aesthetic. his background in art & filmmaking opened a door to cash in on this industry.

but he's also become a bit trapped in the capitalism of it all, like how film industry folks will do a mainstream bullshit film for money so that they can afford to go do indy projects, right? so he's found ways to monetize his interest in filmmaking and also in the human form and he still has to uphold it as a business. (like making sure to have multiple genres & revenue streams at all times, like recording & publishing casting couch videos since he's gonna be doing the interview anyway, might as well!)

so I think there are times he still wants to make something just for himself, and not 100% in a creepy way (maybe like 30% creepy way) but just because sometimes he still wants to feel like an artist and still wants to create things for himself.

and Armand is like, so uniquely & otherworldly beautiful that there's almost an instinct to study him like a bug and admire his form. I'm sure he's had Armand record solo videos and he relies on Armand being too squeamish to check their website to see if they ever made it!!!!! HOW DESENSITIZED HAS MARIUS BECOME TO HIS JOB AND WHEN DOES HE START FEELING AGAIN?

anyway yeah I think there's a spectrum of behavior here and certainly a timeline, like, at what point did Marius want to just fuck Armand because he was growing a personal attraction, and at what point can he not use the excuse of creative expression anymore, at what point does Armand begin to crave it, etc. LOTS TO THINK ABOUT.

[scleroticstatue]

You know there are consequences to being perceived as weird and that’s where the concern lies but also you just reblogged a post from “darkmaga-retard” so I’m guessing you would be on the prosecutor’s side of that.

1. Are you aware that this is the "not paying attention to the URL" website? Like there are whole blogs gaslighting people into thinking vantablack is potentially explosive when combined with chlorine and sunlight and one time I dreamt shotguns alt timelines into people's heads all the time. Neil Gaiman made a post about bees on sticks and when that same post came up on his feed he reblogged it like "some of you think exactly like I do 🤔" because he didn't notice it was his reblog. Heck, I've seen things on my dash and tagged moots because it fit their vibe, entirely unaware that my moot was the one who put it on my dash to begin with. If you're expecting anyone to pay attention to who posted it, you are on the wrong site and you are expecting too little of me.

2. What a petty sounding URL. Friggin dope, man. Followed.

[egotisticle]

@lvckyflannel​​​: ❝ .. Was I just destined to be the most troubled person in the multiverse? I don't know if I can go on further with believing I am not exactly that.. ❞

                     ❝ no suffering goes unnoticed but often is the  witness  beyond our control.”  

     A DARK  air of melancholia swathed the human without a shred of  clemency,  not unlike an ominous storm cloud threatening to  tarnish  their long overdue tryst in the light. the question was just as  lachrymose  as the engineer’s demeanor and  worry  etched itself in fine lines upon the entity’s countenance. not even those with a stoical acceptance of  anguish  would’ve fared well in mark’s situation, much less tolerate being condemned to play the same passive role over and over again. being a  victim  to the captain’s volatile whims wasn’t a fate that the being flippantly discounted but no one better deserved his  empathy  more than that of his counterpart. ire alighted within him whenever mark’s bouts of desolation came about, thawing the  wintry  cavity in his chest to further inflame enmity for the source; had the suited entity possessed a heart, its impassioned solicitude for mark would have catalyzed its aggravated  expungement  long ago.      

     the faint twinkle of stars throughout their  vantablack  surroundings made the atmosphere less severe as unblinking eyes held steady on the other, opposite each other at a neatly set table seemingly plucked from a lavish restaurant. the twin wine glasses in front of them remained largely  untouched,  existing as a little more than a pair of props meant to further dramatize the romantic setting --- a  paradoxical  constant amidst innumerable variables. there was  opulence  in oblivion, and there was  penury  in perpetuity. in the  sanctitude  of their isolation, the cyclic patterns and  tedious  timelines couldn’t wear the human down any further. akin to the distant years of mark’s childhood and adolescence, the shadow’s  companionship  was readily proffered and a defensive disposition emerged. in spite of it all, it was still them and they were entwined by the red threads of fate until mark burned out like a dying star; given the frequency of their  dour  discussions, privately did the suited being fear that the day was drawing ever nearer.

             HOW  DESPERATELY  DOES  THE  MONOCHROME  NIGHT  LONG  FOR  THE  TASTE  OF  COLOUR !

     ❝ leave it all behind, mark. let’s go elsewhere and leave the captain to  answer  for their actions. you don’t  owe  them anything. ❞

     a duplicate image of the entity flickered faintly in the void’s abyss, a  hellish  red to complement a countenance etched with  undisguised  antipathy. heroics and a self-inflicted sense of  nobility, there was an obvious solution to mark’s plights. the engineer could be extracted from the multitude of narratives, painstakingly carved out until all that remained was a  phantom  feeling of nostalgia.

     white noise  purred  its hymns throughout the void as echoes of the entity’s voice joined the choir and a single  spidery  crack formed on the wine glass from unseen pressure. pallid fingers reached across the table to lace themselves with the engineer’s, a sturdy snare and silent testament to their symbiotic relationship. even the most fanciful stories became tedious with enough repetition and revisions were long  overdue.

              ❝ despite your best efforts, you can’t fix everything. it’s too  late  for that now. it’s time to  re-evaluate  your priorities. ❞

[miercolaes]

  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️A PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE

repost,   do   not   reblog,   with   the   information   of   your   muse,   including   headcanons,   etc.   if   you   fail   to   achieve   some   of   the   facts,   add   some   others   of   your   own !

name. wednesday morrigan addams

nickname(s) / sobriquet(s). weds , wends , little (noun on your choice)

alias(es). outcast , embodiment of antichrist (she's not)

age. 18 - 30+ , verse / thread - wise

species. eldritch human plagued with visions and an understanding of witchcraft

gender / pronouns. don't address her , cis female (she / her / hers)

orientation. pan & demi - sexual / romantic

interests. supernatural & nature preserving , investigating , crimes committed by her or others , learning the ancient ways , taxidermy but not limited to animals , delving into romantic (era) art , figuring out how the string theory works so that she can jump timelines , predicting the future (or one outcome out of the infinite options) , cheating death one too many times , visiting haunted places to keep company to those that didn't fully depart , the endless religions dead or existing and their omnipotent entities.

profession. private detective , forensic pathologist , secretary at some random corporation

body type. athletic build , although smol in height so you might miss it

eyes. unnervingly wide gaze adorned with obsidian optics that look the same pitch black shade as the pupil ; whilst in the sun , irises have a blueish - greyish hue.

hair. long ebony hair , reaching to the middle of her back , usually worn in braided pigtails. when not braided , hair has a wavy texture due to the longevity in which she worn the braids.

skin. deep cool olive tone , very much pallid in hue , resembling a victorian era sick child.

face. equipped with a jawline sharp enough to kill , high cheekbones and a very thin layer of skin around her eye sockets that incorporates the ghastly look. a hallow face devoid of emotions. every now and then she presents her emotions only through the ways her eyes twitch , narrow or grow in width. sometimes the rims of her everlasting pout also show some human reaction, albeit a horror show for those unfortunate enough to witness it.

height. 4'11" / 151.1cm

antagonists. everyone else outside her family , particularly those who publicly look down on them or wishes to harm them in any way. the " normies " she assumes are out to get her , like others did , so she does antagonize them judged on past experiences.

colors. jet black , onyx , charcoal , ebony , pitch black , midnight , raven , ink black , obsidian , slate , graphite , carbon black , gothic black , vantablack , smoky black , phantom black , lunar black , noir , black pearl , ash black , lead black , hematite , gunmetal , space black , deep black , nightshade , void black , storm black , steel black , raven's wing , black iron oxide , shadow black , tire black , galaxy black , pitch dark , eclipse , granite black , shadow grey , black velvet , twilight black , amethyst black , plum black , blackberry , madder black , tarmac , blue black , sable noir.

fruits. black cherries , soursop.

drinks. espresso with robusta beans , sparkling water , the blood of her enemies.

alcoholic beverages. bloody mary , whiskey , black magic sangria , mulled wine , tequila , irish whiskey

smokes. ocassionally , mostly tabacco either as cigarettes or cigars. seldom , there is marijuana involved , she likes the strong and bitter taste to it and she does not choke so that's a plus.

drugs. if it's toxic she does it for funsies. i am not talking about your everyday drug , i am talking about arsenic , cyanide and lead. her system is used to it and she wants to gain tolerance. that way, she can't be killed when others attempt at her life.

drivers license. i'm leaving this youtube video for the visual side of it , but yes , she does have it. does she use it? no , not really. she likes being driven to places. lurch didn't make this easy for the entirety of the addams family.

tagged by the salem's one and only @wickedslip

tagging: you.

[undertale-writing-times]

What is Vantablack like in a relationship? He seems really sweet!

Oh he is!

When Vantablack is in a relationship, he's very cuddly and will normally wake his datemate up with breakfast, or at least wake them up with soft kisses.

He'll remember every single date that's important, and he's always such a sweetie when you want to talk about stuff.

He NEVER forgets important dates like your birthday or when they met or started to date. He finds them all much too important to forget. The only thing that annoys him is if his datemate is afraid of the dark, and it isn't really annoyed that they're afraid but more... worried.

Sometimes he might accidentally scare you by appearing out of nowhere, if you ever accidentally hit him, he'll be the one saying sorry.

[luna-almighty-god]

My InkMare child ! 😚

[therealvinelle]

for experiments sake, let's say Aro DOES have a vampire who can blow people up. how would twilight go then? (that ask was hilarious btw, thank you!)

(Anon is referring to this post.)

Oh my god I'm so glad you asked.

So, since you refer to a post where I used a random generator to determine who would be blown up, I'm going to go ahead and make that Aro's new guy's power.

He can kill anyone within an instant, remotely, and he can't be blocked. His is Death and he will not be stopped. Let's call him Torgrim, it's appropriately badass.

The drawback being that he has no way of determining who gets blown up. It's completely random. Though for the sake of having my character list be relevant, we'll say that his power only works on vampires.

Aro doesn't have any real use for him, but he didn't want the guy runninng around on his own either so, sure. He can join the guard.

SO. I have a list of 53 vampire characters who are alive during the Breaking Dawn confrontation. All of them are named, as I did not feel serious adding "Volturi witness #1" or "Maria's newborn army recruit #1" when I don't know that the already named characters in the appendix aren't witnessing for the Volturi, or that Maria actually has a newborn army at the time of the Breaking Dawn trial.

Also, for the record, I didn't prewrite who gets blown up, I get to find out as I write this post.

Irina is off the list, as Caius just killed her. Torgrim is on the list.

Alec, Jane, and Chelsea try their gifts, each of them fail. The Cullen side is starting to get their hopes up.

Never fear, Caius has an ace up his sleeve.

A new figure, a man cloaked in vantablack (Aro wanted to give him light gray since he can't actually be used for anything, upon second thought he didn't want the guy to get uppity and start using his gift.) steps forward.

No one's seen this guy before.

Everyone turns to Eleazar, and to Edward, wanting to know what this guy can do.

Eleazar stares at Torgrim, squints, tilts his head, squints harder, tilts his head the other way. Finally, he says "He has some kind of offensive power."

Edward doesn't know what the gift is, but he does know that Aro is shitting bricks. He grins, this guy isn't gonna be a problem.

Torgrim grins, theatrically snaps his fingers, and-

Rosalie blows up.

The Cullens and witnesses scream in equal parts shock and terror. Bella can't protect them after all.

Aro, knowing this was extremely lucky and also that they just killed Carlisle's daughter, wants to pack up and get the fuck out, now. They've shown that they have the power to destroy the Cullens, great, let's show them mercy and leave.

There's not going to be a happy ending now, not with Carlisle's daughter dead and Carlisle himself sobbing on the ground, clutching rubble a few hundred meters away, but the Volturi are now in control. There can still be a peaceful ending.

Edward, reading his thoughts, demands that the witnesses hold their positions, Aro isn't in control of this situation after all.

Caius decides to take the gamble. He tells Torgrim to go.

Stefan blows up.

Caius is now cackling loudly, while the Cullen witnesses are closing their eyes in dread. They were fools to believe they could ever stand against the Volturi, or that some newborn girl could possibly protect them from the Volturi.

Aro thinks about how miraculous his luck is, that not only is Torgrim not killing any Volturi, but he is killing the vampires present. This is everything he ever hoped for from Torgrim.

Edward hears all of this.

Being close to panicking, he finds himself incapable of closing his mouth. He tells everybody that Torgrim has no control of his power, and taunts him.

Torgrim has a few issues.

Here he is, so very powerful, he can kill anybody and everybody, he could render Jane, Alec, Felix, and Demetri all redundant, he could singlehandedly rule the world if he so wished.

Except he can't, because his power is randomized.

He possesses such great power, but no way to wield it.

Now, thanks to mathematically improbable luck, the gods have granted him one moment of glory.

And this rebel twerp means to ruin it for him. This rebel twerp dares to mock him.

Torgrim stares down Edward, narrows his eyes, and with every ounce of his being he concentrates on Edward Cullen.

He unleashes his power.

Kebi blows up.

Carlisle begs Edward to stop talking, everyone begs him to stop talking, Bella is losing control of her shield in distress.

Aro is this close to hyperventilating. Torgrim, for the love of god, don't try it again. He doesn't even need to, Alec can take advantage of Bella's inner turmoil now.

Before Torgrim can use his power again, Aro orders him to stop. Point proven, let's be merciful now. (Before Aro himself blows up.)

Edward, desperate for a win in the midst of all this disaster where he just goaded the Volturi into blowing up Stefan and Kebi, decides it's speech time. He starts talking about how the Volturi are tyrants, they're evil and corrupt and will kill just about anybody. Literally, they have a guy who'll kill anybody at all.

Caius starts doing the math on how many vampires Torgrim has to kill before Edward explodes. Sadly for Caius, Marcus was always the one who was good at maths, but Marcus doesn't care anymore. He asks anyway. Marcus, E = {1 ∈ 0 < n }, and P(Edward dies) = 1/E, uh- Marcus, help. MARCUS.

Aro is debating which option makes him look less terrible, to interrupt Edward and start bickering with this seventeen-year-old or wait until he's done before saying anything, or take advantage of Bella's panic and try Alec again, or-

Torgrim uses his power again.

Liam blows up.

Holy fuck, Siobhan should have prevented that. I guess Python is more powerful than she is.

Someone tackles Edward to the ground, the Cullen surrender, and Alice and Jasper arrive just in time to see that they've already lost.

Aro brings Renesmée and Bella with him back to Volterra, not so much out of interest for Renesmée so much as bringing the daughter is a perfect excuse to bring Bella as well. Bella is too dangerous to be left alone out there. In time, she will either come to see the Volturi as friends, or be executed.

This timeline is the nail in the coffin for his friendship with Carlisle, as he killed his daughter and then kidnapped Bella and Renesmée, but it's a sacrifice he can make.

(Though should the opportunity arise...)

A few months later, wanting to prove to the world that this wasn't just a one-off, that Torgrim is indeed a mighty man who can somewhat direct his power in the right direction and should be allowed to do things within the Volturi, Torgrim uses his power again.

Emmett blows up.

... this program is just refusing to harm the Volturi, huh.

[prime-pulse]

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages? 

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

32. What is their self esteem like?

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh? 

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

88. Do they have an accent?

89. What is their D&D alignment?

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said?

For Edric, Dirt, or Ziv? And if any of these are repeats, you don’t have to answer them :D

Ohh I’ll do Ziv since I haven’t talked about them much !! I need to draw them a bit more I love them....

8) Ziv is under the belief sort of just... Nothing happens. You’re gone and that’s it, that, or it’s like you’ve fallen asleep and you’re stuck dreaming for the rest of your eternity. They don’t like to think about it much since they’d rather just pretend they’re unkillable

12) Depending on the AU theyre anywhere from about 18-24, though in the canon ninjago timeline they're about 22 to 24 since I HC the ninja (minus Lloyd) to all be in their 20s in more recent seasons. In season 1 they were only like 16 but now around season 15 they’re just somewhere in their 20s. Their birthday is December 28th though!

18) Ziv knows English, Spanish, Japanese, and is working on learning Korean. They learnt Spanish themself through libraries and audiobooks so it’s a bit shabby, but the other two they learned/are learning from proper classes!

30) Definitely fight. They only flee if they feel they have no chance of winning, but with their elemental power being color, they like to make everything around (except for whoever is threatening them) either vantablack or pure white so they can’t be seen while attacking— then once it’s dealt with, everythings back to normal and they move on!

32) Ziv thinks pretty highly of themself, they're confident in their appearance and how they act. They have days where they hit lows like any other person does, but for the most part they treat themself with the respect and love they know they deserve

33) Probably becoming a villain? They went to Darkley's as a kid and has since left that path behind them, but they worry every day they might turn out to be 'the bad guy' in people's books. They don’t want to hurt people in any way and constantly try to make everything around them better in any way they can, even if it’s in their usual sarcastic delivery

41) Ziv has a very bold & loud laugh, and only snorts if you catch them off guard or say something REALLY funny. Their laugh is warm and can be heard from rooms away and is always pleasant to hear!!

62) They’ve never been necessarily betrayed. They’ve lost friends by going down a different path than them, but they’ve never felt completely and utterly betrayed by anyone. They aren’t trusting by default, but they don’t have issues trusting people, it just takes a bit for them to warm up to you! (Unless they find you funny)

75) They'd draw all over the piece of paper; probably a landscape straight out of a cyberpunk or sci-fi novel. They’d draw in everything with the pencil and use their power to color everything in just how they see it in their mind, even if the color would only be temporary— good way to pass the time!

80) Night owl by nature, morning person by choice. They love to stay up late, it’s when they thrive, but they go to bed early and wake up early because of the requirements of their job. They don’t enjoy it, everyone knows not to disturb them before they’ve had their coffee, but they wouldn’t change it!

88) No accent ! Unless they’re speaking anything other than English, I think their accent would be pretty bad then

89) Chaotic good for sure. Find loopholes in stupid laws and use them to help people, without actually breaking any laws.

I’m skipping 93 because I haven’t... written with them much yet, actually. Get back to me in like a month or two on that one

[doodleggoat]

You know what? I'm on the mood to tell you about the stories I'm working on, I've only mentioned them and drew some OCs but I never actually talked about it

So buckle up everybody because I think I'm gonna extend a lot while talking about every single one

The first one is "Central City" about Fredderick and Rudolph and their daughter Alexa getting stuck on a futuristic city called "Central city" trying to adapt to this place they eventually meet the "Laughter" band, the 2nd most known musical band in the world in the middle of a competition against the "Big Bear Baron Studio's" band, the 1st most known musical band in the whole world

And so the Laughter's have to climb their way to the top while they're constantly being sabotaged by the Big Bear Baron Studio's, while also learning to unite in harmony thanks to Alexa and her father's

The band members are Shannone, Monique Le Mousé, DJ Meg and Rat Queen

the Central City is a enormous boulevard with shops in every side and corner with the only transport being trains but those are found everywhere too looking more like a futuristic metro/underground city

Second one and probably the oldest one is "Shaun's Luck" and as the name implies it's about a girl called Shaun that lost her sister and basically everything, needing to escape into the woods and live alone she finds a cave, and having nothing to lose she goes in there and meets the bad luck spirit Vantablack, at first trying to kill her on purpose but as time passes Shaun gets to know about Vantablack and become friends but being friends with a bad luck spirit is the basic equivalent of hugging a cactus

Shaun's objective is to bring her sister back, and for that she needs to go to the antimatter dimension located at the bottom of the cave, a place where the rules of luck shift, her bad awful luck becomes a reasonable good luck and with a bad luck spirit at her side she feels capable of reaching her destination, but there's still that bit of bad luck in her that won't make things easy

The third one is "Seasons" a story involving various (and a LOT of) characters like Günter and Jimmy, Ellie and Lilea, even Marchel and Bug, in a series of events separated in 6 arc's

The introduction arc, the Marchel arc, the alien arc, the demon arc, the war arc and the final arc

This is probably the longest out of every other story I wrote so far

The fourth one is "Roler Complex" at first a joke one off that I made about a global virus outbreak that made people all across the globe act the exact opposite of their normal selfs, kinda like someone was using their bodies to roleplay (ence the name)

The protagonist is a cat boy called "Roy" the very first victim to get infected with the virus accidentally spreading it around until her girlfriend, a stickman enthusiast that goes by the "Stickgirl" name, with her martial arts mastery contains him and sends him to her sister "Natasha", an overpowered fennec that unfortunately didn't make things any better adding more layers and personalities to him AND split him up into 5 different entities, anger, sadness, happiness, Goodness and Villainousness

And so the have to hunt his other personalities and put him back together while also looking for a cure, by the way Natasha was infected and got nerfed, she can only summon cheese from thin air at this point

Now I'm going with the mini series even though I don't think they're mini, it's more of alternate universes/headcanons

First mini is "Betweeners" where Günter, Nia and Rat Queen get trapped in constant dimension travelling shenanigans, mostly it's based around different games, movies and series I like and them interacting with their environment, with the occasional alternate universe counterparts

For example Nia was first encountered on that one game of the "Sinking City" even though I never played it except for a song I heard for it

And Rat Queen was first encountered on an alternate timeline of her own story, just after she falls asleep on a scene of the original story

Second mini is Rat Queen's story or "Chapter RQ" is a prequel from before the events of Central City, where after forgetting she had to do a song for the next concert Shannone leaves her on her own on the massive hotel and falls asleep halfway to the room and when she wakes up a whole kingdom of rats are awaiting for their new Queen to rule them

After that all of the events happen on the basement of the hotel, from Monique's arrival to Aspser crush on Queen to the meeting of a famous rodent hero

Third mini is an amalgamation of all the main stories after a reset of the universe where all of the characters are kids again, the mains are Bug, Günter, Nia, Marcus and Rat Queen

It's a one off more than anything but I refuse not to write any of this in the future

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Without Question (11)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: the void

Warnings: ...no Steve?

Word Count: It’s like places and my own emotions taunting me through nostalgia about where exactly am I after one entire year. You know what...I am a bit different, with more stories than before, more experience and more incidents to inspire me to keep writing and keep moving forward. I know I’ll find a way. I jsut get scared when I don’t see the straight path. I’ll find my way.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

You are back. Back in the void.

The emptiness does not seem that eerie this time; its familiarity is nothing but welcoming, for you can see nothing but yourself. And you can see yourself a bit too clearly in this otherwise dark space.

“Am I dead?” You ask the void, looking everywhere as if searching for someone.

“No one is ever dead,” a familiar voice calls out from somewhere in that comforting dark, the hoarseness toning down with every syllable to give way to something...galactic.

“Your...your voice.” You do not know how to describe what you just heard, something that was nothing like what you had been hearing these past few days. “It’s...beautiful,” you exhale at this illuminating confusion inside your heart.

It feels different. The presence.

“Our chords have varying vibrations on different planets,” the soothing voice, like a melodic harp coming once again from this sea of black, “this variant that you hear is the one with no intervention.”

“Wow.” You do not realise when that word leaves you. It just does. “So...I’m...not dead. But I’m no longer on earth. Does that mean we won?”

It is hard to make out the shape at first but as the figure takes further steps to close the distance between the two of you, you feel your lips part, your eyes go wide and your lungs pause at the towering structure of what was once deemed as the female of the monstrosity of her species. Long sleek black legs going up to form a torso twice as wide and long as yours with more ripped muscles than your one combined chubby belly. Slender arms with equally ripped muscles swung on either side before the steps paused and lips darker than vantablack stretched in a smile while a wide set of eyes filled with their personal set of galaxies looked down at you.

“Yes,” she declared with a nod of her perfectly shaved head that stretched a bit more than a human’s at the back, almost predator like but more subtle, “we won.”

.

“So you knew you would be the end of your species?”

The question is put a bit softly, not knowing what medium is letting your voice flow with such tenderness to the giant alien that is taking you on a slow walk somewhere she thinks ‘you will love to see’. It’s nice, this feeling of not having to hold any grudges or ill-will, of not being hosts and parasites, just two creatures from different parts of the universe walking in nothingness, talking like they are catching up.

“I did, yes. This was one of the reasons the old commanders had put a stop on recruiting anyone from my family in the armies. Or anyone who even had a sixty-seven per cent match with my DNA.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah. The only reason I was able to join the army was that the old commander died and certain rules were changed. My mother had been quite adamant on preventing me from joining the army. But she left behind an entire plan to reveal the big secret and get away from everyone who would be after my life once everything went public.”

You stop short, a muted gasp escaping your lips while she takes about two huge steps before stopping to search for you.

“Your mother was the old commander?”

She nods.

“Oh...oh, I’m so sorry.”

Her long fingers swish away the statement like it’s no big deal. “We’re used to disappointing our elders. Nothing new. My mother knew how brutal it was going to be for me once the truth came out. Well, it is always brutal for time eaters.”

“...time eaters.”

She stops and smiles at you, and once again you are caught in the literal stars inside her eyes. How is she real? How is any of this real?

“Yes. We travel through multiple timelines for what all we lack. Food, home, peace.” Her pace slows a little, making you wonder whether it’s for you to catch up to her or for something that she remembers. “This time it was for life itself.”

Life itself. How easy it all sounds. Your most disastrous days. Most overwhelmingly beautiful too. And with every passing second- if there even is a concept of time in this place- a sombre layer of one morbid thought settles in. She notices it too. The slight furrow of your brows. That tuck of your lower lip under your teeth, trying to do away with the perfect skin, wanting to tear where it could easily come out and then gnaw at it for some more- looking for the weak points again and again while your eyes do not seem to focus at anything in particular, your gait becoming somewhat not straight, sometimes stepping sideways when your legs seem to not want to balance on a straight path. It was all there. She can see all of it.

“What is it?” she finally asks. Gods! You still not used to that voice.

“No, I just- it got me thinking that you are so powerful and-” you raise your hands to gesture at her magnificence- “not to mention majestic. You could have easily killed me. Killed us all. But you hid inside me. Why didn’t you?”

She stops, tilting her head up and forwards just a little. “We’re here,” her voice declares, making you turn in the direction she is looking in.

And before you can stop it from happening, your jaw drops at the sight of the galaxies and their cluster of vibrant clouds all spread in front of you like performers of a show just for you. Your eyes take in every detail, turning moist at this unforgettable sight.

“Oh, but why would I kill the very reason I was born to make, Y/N? Why would I kill the reason my home abandoned me? Why would I kill the person I was meant to fall in love with?”

Suddenly it’s easy to look away from the galactic splendour. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

.

“Inter-species intimacy was always frowned upon. The penalty being death for both. Both bloodlines. My mother had seen my future at birth. She knew what I brought. But she wanted me to live and love. And I hated her for this every moment of my existence. Till she made me see my future.”

You do not shift where you sit, looking at her figure cocooning itself by drawing her legs closer to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, engulfing herself for protection.

“What did you see?”

“Death. Destruction. War. All that we were. All that we will be. All of it always stopping at you. Never going beyond you.”

All you can do is gulp down the elegance with which she describes your presence in her life. What else can you possibly do? You are the reason she is the last of her species. You want to apologise. But she goes ahead and speaks first.

“My mother knew it would change me. Showing me my future. And she was ready for it.”

She raises her hand and an ellipse tears through the space to show her and an equally beautiful and elegant but older version of her standing by her side. Her mother.

What would you do, if I told you about your fate? Her mother asked.

If I told you that the rivers of dimension flowed in a specific manner just so you could be born, would you believe me? Or would it be better to say that your obscure but ordinary self was created to cross paths with certain people during your lifetime; that you were made to do the inevitable of tormenting souls as you ached to nurture yours, waning in the hopes of finding love; that you did find solace in arms of a soul you least expected it from.

What if I told you that you were never destined to meet a man- a man out of time, fighting for what was right, saving the world and wanting to sacrifice himself for the greater good- but you put yourself in his path and saved his life?

What if I told you that in doing so, you drove your world to destruction?

Would you still do it?

You can see her look at her mother with the very stars, this time with moisture running down.

Without question. She answers. Her mother takes her face in her palm and plants a kiss on her forehead before turning to dust and flying away into the emptiness.

You do not realise when the tears leave your eyes. Or when they were formed, for that matter.

“I knew from the second I saw you that you were suffering. And that you were going to die,” she states, her voice running a little coarse, her head still low, “and without thinking I made you my host to burn away the sickness. I know it wasn’t my place but I could not bear to see you die.”

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. “Oh, sweetheart-”

“I know,” she interjects with the warmest smile you have seen on her, “I know you like him. You love him.”

The stars in her eyes change a hue to a bit jaded vibration. You take her hand in yours, sitting there for a few moments just like this. In peace, looking at the universe in front of you two.

“I wish we’d met in the right timeline,” you finally whisper to her, your head resting on her arm, “so I could know what it would be like to fall in love you.”

You feel her fingers grip you in affirmation. “I wish the same, my saviour.”

You sigh, not getting tired of this view. “So, what now?”

Her thumb rubs at the back of your hand, caressing you till it has etched the tiniest groove in its memory. “I have never seen my future beyond this point.”

“...oh.”

“But that won’t stop me from making things right.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Hug prompt 14 with vantablack? I love how you write!!!! ^^

Ink grins a little, a feeling of mischief washing over him as he sneaks up on his boyfriend - the other was talking to an Asgore and a Toriel - frightening them if their close huddling together and tight-handholding wasn’t enough of a give away, the way that the Toriel gripped the red trident was certainly telling. It was time to relieve the tension a little… And if he could catch his boyfriend off-guard, so much the better? He chuckled a little as he ran (instead of teleporting, as the magic might startle the three of them into an attack) at Nightmare, calling out happily “Niiiiiiightmaare~!”

“I, Ink wai-” Nightmare tried to warn him, shifting quickly, his eye light shrinking a little as he instinctively caught his dumb boyfriend with a couple of his tentacles, pulling the other in close.

Ink stopped him from speaking by happily kissing the other on the lips, humming a little and nuzzling into his touch “I missed you! You’ve been gone for sooo long and I was really bored and wanted to see who you were trying to terrorize into submission.”

Nightmare sighed, rubbing his face with one of his hands “I see. And then you decided to attempt to tackle me, despite the fact that I was clearly speaking to the leaders of the underground of this timeline.”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to wait for a hug! And you were being a huge grump and about to get yourself attacked again so I figured I’d come and help.” The smaller skeleton responded, an unrepentant grin on his face. “And as entertaining as it is to watch you fight multiple opponents… Some of the others might fuss about you getting into a fight without inviting them to have fun too.”

The lord of darkness huffed and rolled his eye light a little “I doubt that they would have been so foolish as to attempt to attack me. Not only their lives would have been fo-”

Ink kissed him before gently poking his forehead “There you go again, being all doom and gloom. Lighten up just a bit. Honey, not vinegar.”

Nightmare sighed a little bit and responded, wryly amused “Dark and intimidating is kind of my thing, Ink. You’re one of a very small group of people who aren’t intimidated by me.”

The creative guardian huffs a little bit and nuzzled into Nightmare, entirely enjoying being close to his beloved “Fiiiine. Be scary and growly. I’m going to find my friends and we’re going to be off on adventures~! Catch us if you can.” With that Ink let the fallen guardian go and teleported off, a carefree laugh on his lips.

[ask-vantablack]

Romance Headcanons

Name: Vantablack

Nicknames: Vanta, Vants

Gender: Genderfluid

Romantic Orientation: Bisexual

Preferred Pet Names: No preference.

Relationship Status: Single/Taken (Depends on timeline)

Favorite Canon / Fandom Ship: Khari x Vanta, Frank x Vanta

Favorite Crossover Ship: N/A

Opinion On True Love: They don’t care to differentiate the difference between “love” and “true love”. To them all love is a waste of time that leaves people open and vulnerable for people like them to get in and ruin their lives.

Opinion On Love At First Sight: Absolutely not. As it is they already see love and romance as a weakness inherit in humans, so love at first sight is quite possibly the greatest weakness that can be exploited. They don’t believe in it, and for those that do they keep it as a mental note to possibly take advantage of later on in one way or another.

How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: They try their best. They’re not exactly the best at conveying their true emotions, and they’re already known for masking how they truly feel beneath layers of lies and deceit, so any attempts at  genuine romantic gestures might often appear hamfisted or awkward. Just know they’re trying.

Ideal Physical Traits: No preference, though they do have a particular affiliation for the big, monsterous, twisted, and otherwise inhuman.

Ideal Personality Traits: Assertiveness, inner strength; they like someone that makes their presence known and sticks out from a group, someone that catches their eye in one way or another.

Unattractive Physical Traits: Excessive youth; they’re put off by those that appear excessively young due to both their limited exposure to others within The Fog being mostly adults and elders (making it so people from younger demographics just look rather wrong to them in comparison) and also because of certain memories they took from Quentin. Otherwise, none particularly come to mind.

Ideal Date: Really they don’t care. Just spending time and doing things with them makes them happy. Take them out to a museum, an art gallery, take them out to the theater, or just stay in and watch shitty movies with them over junk food, either way they’ll enjoy themself.

Average Relationship Length: N/A; they’re not usually ones to get involved in relationships so about as long as it takes for their partners to get tired of them (in their own words).

Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: Just... relaxing. Laying back against their partner‘s chest and enjoying their warmth and energy. Give them a little scratch on their head or a kiss on the back of their neck and they’ll be practically melting at your touch.

Commitment Level: Dating. They’ll never go past that, as it’s already a stretch for them as is.

Opinion On Public Affection: With platonic relationships they don’t particularly mind, but the minute you get past platonic into romantic territory they start to become uncomfortable with it. They don’t like the idea of having something they care about being broadcast to the public; they don’t want something they genuinely care about to be taken away or potentially being used against them.

Past Relationships?: N/A

Tagged by: @fierceathlete​​

Tagging: @nervousleaderr​ @mnstrss (any muse(s)), @ask-the-maniac, and anyone else interested!

[abundantchewtoys]

HS Epi: Meat, p8 reaction

It doesn't FEEL like it could already be time for the Masterpiece, but then, what else is there? Until now we've been switching back and forth between Earth C & John. Unless we now go see what post-retcon Terezi has been up to, I guess it might be time to witness the penultimate moment of Caliborn's ascension to Lord English, the last moment being when LE hatches from Doc Scratch.

---

"> JOHN: Zap to your final destination.

Where the hell are you?

DAVE: where the hell are we DAVE: i cant see shit"

Welp it's time for this?? ... Unless John misfired and they're in the Furthest Ring, I'd think that they'd find Caliborn in his station on LOCAM. ... I don't suppose there's going to be an actual stage like in the Vine videos. :P If that were so, it appears someone killed the lights, though.

Maybe something prevents them from actually going to Caliborn, like they're missing a crucial artifact and they wouldn't be able to escape from LOCAM with John's powers to return to the same moment with another retcon. We know the juju almost instantaneously can absorb them. ... It'd be something if the events of the Masterpiece somehow preordained them into doing something first.

"JADE: shhh!

It’s dark. Not like “someone turned out the lights out” dark. More like “someone destroyed the concept of light at its very source” dark." I suppose that, in Caliborn's art, it would be "vantablack" dark due to the absence of a light source he never bothered to draw, but I doubt they just zapped into one of his scribbles he made after John beat him up.

Also, it's a good Light wasn't capitalized in that description. Though, to think about it, Void would look enormously black, wouldn't it? ... Did John zap them into the Void somehow??? It IS the place where Caliborn's soul was stuck for a very long time, after all, but that is after the Masterpiece took place.

"It’s a darkness that fills up your skull. Jake puts this more eloquently, as always:

JAKE: By golly it is indeed dark as fuck." A+ observation, Jake.

"ROXY: shoosh!!!" That makes two of the girls shooshing them. ... For a minute there I thought they recognized this void, until I remembered it was Game Over Roxy and post-retcon Jade that ended up meeting Calliope's ghost.

"Jade breaks off from the group. She moves through the air gracefully, ears twitching as she sniffs through space like a bloodhound. “There!” she exclaims, and points down. All the way down." Being a bit destracted by unformatted sentences uttered by one of the main characters, I'll be honest. But yeah, I suppose the Space and Void player are most qualified to navigate this... realm. Caliborn's version of the Veil, maybe? Since it would appear they're not alone here, after all.

"All the way down beneath you there is a light source. Gray, focused—like a spotlight, except that it’s folded over the curvature of the space beneath it. At the center of it stands teenage Lord English, all decked out in his ostentatious god tier jammies." ... Ah. Not a stage in the literal sense, but Caliborn did prepare a grand scene for this faceoff, in that he literally prepared the shittiest scene imagineable: none at all.

"Gamzee’s there too, for some unfathomably stupid reason. There’s a robot bunny chilling out on top of a chest, lookin’ cool and kicking its cute little bunny legs back and forth." Welp, that sure are the beings present for the Masterpiece. That was the chest Caliborn kept the juju in, hoh boy.

"You hope that neither of these unexpected dramatis personae will play a role in the coming battle, because it wouldn’t feel right whaling on either of them at this point." Of course they're going to stay irrelevant, what are you saying? :B

"Lord English is holding something that looks like... Lil Cal? It’s definitely Lil Cal" So, uh, John recognizes the puppet then? ... Well, granted, he did see baby Dirk/Bro with it on the meteor, and during the ten years since someone must've described the thing to him at one point.

", and Lord English is definitely waltzing around with it in his little spotlight in the middle of the nowhere, swinging the puppet around by both its floppy arms. Well, rather, he was waltzing around. He stopped the moment you looked at him." ... Pffff he wasn't even expecting them right then? He was just playing pretend with Cal for who knows how long.

"> Behold your adversary.

JOHN: ... CALIBORN: ..." No. No, we're not doing this again, are we? The epic frown off.

"JOHN: ... CALIBORN: ... JOHN: ... CALIBORN: ... JOHN: ... CALIBORN: ... JOHN: ... CALIBORN: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

What. The fuck. ... Does... Does Caliborn not recognize John because he's an adult???? Or... I mean... Timelines... Okay, yeah, Blaperile reminded me about something.

Caliborn in the Masterpiece didn't seem to recognize John. So. That could mean that. This. Is. Pre-retcon Caliborn.

Fucking Hells. Even if they get sucked into the juju...

That means. Lord English is pre-retcon Caliborn. But post-retcon Caliborn might be a seperate entity. That means he's an unknown quantifier, but that would mean Paradox Space is seriously screwed, right? A Caliborn not destined to become Lord English would be free to do whatever he pleased with his Lord of Time powers, and then all bets are off. Even if his pre-retcon self became the bane of endless universes, he was still limited, sanctioned by Paradox Space.

FYI, with pre-retcon & post-retcon, here I meant that I think that, this Caliborn never had John zapping into his room. But, now that I think about it some more... He would still have recognized John and the others from the consoles. (Hmm, unless the consoles only showed Caliborn images from B2, but I didn't think that was the case.) Meanwhile, I don't think the ghost of the Caliborn that Alternate Calliope 'ate' would be dressed in god tier jammies and be chilling with Lil' Seb and Gamzee...

"You simply refuse to answer his question. Instead, you do something so much better. Something that will make both his inevitable fate and your regard for his character incontrovertibly clear." Is it a punch in the face? Tell me it's a punch in the face. If this Caliborn turns out to be blameless in the rise of Lord English, the second hand embarassment will be palpable.

"> Give him a thumbs-down." Ah. Beatdown, imminent. :P

"Lord English drops the puppet. For a moment he looks shocked, maybe even a little afraid, but it passes quickly. He starts laughing." Wow, okay. I didn't think I was ready to consider liking the idea of a version of Caliborn that is more jerk-with-low-self-esteem, but, here I'm getting there.

"JOHN: uh. CALIBORN: NEVERMIND. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE." ... Oh, then scratch everything I just said. :P Guess the dorky theatrics finally gave it away, huh? Well, granted, Caliborn is a self-professed slow learner and been shown to be slow in the uptake in some regards.

"CALIBORN: IT WAS FORETOLD. BY THE MASTERPIECE I MADE. WHEN I WAS BUT A BOY." With Caliborn, it's never clear if he's just boasting or being sincere. It might be that 7 years passed for him in his session too, but if he had been 13 at the time he could be 20. Then again, if he was 11... He'd still count as a teenager.

"JOHN: what? CALIBORN: BE QUIET. CALIBORN: I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT YOU JUST INTERRUPTED A GROUNDBREAKING INTERPRETIVE ART PIECE. CALIBORN: IT WAS THE FIRST OF ITS KIND. PERFORMED ONLY ONCE. AND MADE MORE VALUABLE FOR ITS RARENESS. JOHN: wow. CALIBORN: I SAID SHUT UP. IT’S RUDE TO TALK THROUGH THE OVERTURE. CALIBORN: BUT DON’T WORRY. ALTHOUGH YOU MISSED MY VERY IMPORTANT DANCE DEMONSTRATION." ... Interpretive dance. His wickedness really knows no bounds!!! :mspa:

"CALIBORN: NOW YOU WILL PARTICIPATE IN SOMETHING EVEN MORE IMPORTANT." Welp. Caliborn has Fate on his side in this one. He knows what's coming! Guess we're left to see how straightforward everything will unfold now.

"The young Lord’s face begins to distort. The unhinging of his jaw reverberates in the empty space. He laughs through the remainder of his nefarious soliloquy, which he has possibly prepared in advance for this moment." I was thinking he'd start shooting lasers, but it would appear the rest of his 'soliloquy' may consist solely out of "HA. HA. HA." repeated ad nauseum.

"CALIBORN: BY NOW, SURELY MANY HAVE WITNESSED MY MASTERPIECE. CALIBORN: AS IT HAS CIRCULATED THROUGH THE BLACK VEINS. OF THE DARK WEB. CALIBORN: TRILLIONS HAVE WITNESSED ITS MAJESTY. HATERS AND FOOLS ALIKE." That might be a LITTLE bit overestimating it. :P Unless, of course, he's talking about all of the ghosts in the dreambubbles, rebubbling the memory ad infinitum. I'm reminded of Gamzee's rap, though, about the trillions being bled.

"CALIBORN: BUT NOW. THE TIME HAS COME. CALIBORN: FOR EVERYONE TO SHUT UP ABOUT HOW GREAT MY MASTERPIECE WAS. CALIBORN: AND THE TIME IS NOW AT HAND..." To see the truth or lack thereof in the masterpiece.

"CALIBORN: FOR YOU ALL TO *BECOME* MY MASTERPIECE!" ... Wow. Epic.

Okay, that was delivered perfectly.

If we weren't in the epilogues, I'd have expected an [S] page next.

Gotta say, for knowing how this will go in broad strokes, I'm glad at getting the finer details filled in.

So, Caliborn seemed to imply in his Masterpiece Jade still had her First Guardian powers. Guess this scene still takes place in the Green Sun's gaze then. I hope I'm forgiven for being confused. Post-canon takes place outside of it, but Caliborn's session was spawned in Universe C. So at some point, he fell back into the Green Sun's domain somehow. Maybe simply by Entering his session. He thusly entered canon, and gained quite a bit of relevance to Paradox Space.

"A young Lord stands on his stage. It just so happens that today, the thirteenth of April, 11111111111, is this boy's wriggling day. Though it was 18 sweeps ago he was given life, it is only today he will obtain ultimate power.

What will this young Lord do?"

[coreink002]

My Star head canons!

So these are just some random fun facts about my stars, which set them apart from the originals!

Ink is an artificial intelligence

Nightmare lost her left eye to a fight with Error

Cross’s real name is Jakie

Vantablack can move at bursts of 60mph

Killer is blind, since she tore out her own eyes.

Technically speaking, Horror is a zombie.

Geno stays in the marble ruins (which is a place in my dreams)

Lotus is infertile.

Ink is colorblind.

Vanta, without a host, can survive on sugar water. 

The original Dream was killed by humans, 

Dusk, Omega, and Vantablack are all cold blooded

Chernobyl lives in a separate timeline from other stars.

Pixel is the youngest shatter sister, but Sectin is the most childish.

Please send asks and requests! ^w^

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#10yrsago St Colin and the Dragon: great torn paper kids’ comic https://memex.craphound.com/2012/06/22/st-colin-and-the-dragon-great-torn-paper-kids-comic/

#10yrsago EFF joins the defense in Charles Carreon v. The Whole Goddamned Internet https://www.eff.org/press/releases/eff-will-represent-oatmeal-creator-fight-against-bizarre-lawsuit-targeting-critical

#10yrsago Bruce Sterling interviewed about the New Aesthetic https://web.archive.org/web/20120626071907/http://davidalbertcox.com/blog/?p=29

#5yrsago A DRM-locked, $400 tea-brewing machine from the Internet of Shit timeline https://gizmodo.com/a-400-smart-tea-machine-gave-this-brit-an-existential-1796219286

#5yrsago John Oliver dared a coal exec to sue him, and now he’s being sued https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2017/06/22/john-oliver-a-giant-squirrel-and-a-defamation-lawsuit-by-a-coal-industry-titan/

#5yrsago Tumblr is now owned by a phone company, so it’s stopped fighting for Network Neutrality https://www.theverge.com/2017/6/21/15816974/verizon-tumblr-net-neutrality-internet-politics-david-karp

#5yrsago A history of artist Anish Kapoor and his assholic mission to own the color black https://www.wired.com/story/vantablack-anish-kapoor-stuart-semple/

#1yrago Peloton bricks its treadmills https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/22/vapescreen/#jane-get-me-off-this-crazy-thing