remonbu02066

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @letsstaytuned

"Let's focus on what skills we missed in the exterminator war... I remember that you wanted to improve on your close-combat fighting skills since you were using a shield before using your trident against Adam." Don wanted to focus on making sure Charlie didn't have any weak points to be taken advantage of in the future.

[brielledoesastrology]

"Pride before downfall" Asteroids in astrology

by : Brielledoesastrology (tumblr)

"Don't fly too close to the sun"

asteroid Icarus (1566), asteroid phaeton (3200), asteroid hybris (430), niobe (71)

1566,3200,430,71

Icarus (1566) -

Daedalus, a mythical inventor, created wings made of feathers and wax to escape from Crete where he and his son Icarus, were held captive by King Minos. Icarus however ignored his father's warnings and flew too close to the sun. His wings melted and he fell into the sea where he met his end.

Source : thecollector.com

.

Phaeton (3200) -

Phaethon asked to be allowed to drive the chariot of the sun through the heavens for a single day. Helios, bound by his oath, had to let him make the attempt. Phaethon set off but was entirely unable to control the horses of the sun chariot, which came too near to the earth and began to scorch it. To prevent further damage, zeus hurled a thunderbolt at Phaethon, who fell to the earth at the mouth of the Eridanus, a river later identified as the Po.

Source : britannica.com

.

Hybris (430) - "Hubris"

HYBRIS was the goddess or personified spirit (daimona) of insolence, hubris, violence, reckless pride, arrogance and outrageous behaviour in general.

Source : www.theoi.com

.

Niobe (71) -

Niobe was a mortal who boasted of her many children, incurring the wrath of the gods. As punishment for her pride, Apollo and Artemis killed all her children, shooting them with arrows.

⚠️ Warning : i consider this asteroid as prominent or brings the most effect if it conjuncts ur personal planets (sun,moon,venus,mercury,mars) and if it conjuncts ur personal points (ac,dc,ic,mc), i use 0 - 2.5 orbs (for conjunctions). For sextile, trine, opposite and square aspects to asteroids i usually use 0 - 2 orbs. Yes tight conjunctions of planet / personal points to asteroids tends to give the most effect, but other aspects (sextile,trine,square,opposite, etc) still exist, even they produce effects. If it doesn't aspect any of your planets or personal points, check the house placement of the asteroid, maybe some stuff/topics relating to this asteroid could affect some topics/stuff relating to the house placement . ⚠️

[mrbexwrites]

Seven Deadly Sins

@clearcloudlesssky tagged me in this - thank you :)

Passing the tag onto @queen-tashie @sarahlizziewrites @cowboybrunch @spideronthesun @kaylinalexanderbooks @at-thezenith @surroundedbypearls

Rules: Which of your OCs would you assign to which of the seven deadly sins and why?

Pride: Arnauld- he's good at what he does and he knows it. He will happily boast about his exploits and successes. He doesn't consider pride to be a sin; in fact, he thinks the complete opposite. If you're worked for something, why shouldn't you be proud of your achievements? (He's also likely to want to boast about some of his own failures as well, especially if they were spectacular!)

Greed: Pete- although, I struggled to figure out who would represent this particular sin, Pete is probably the closest I have to some who is selfish/greedy of my characters. He self-medicates to deal with his trauma of growing up in the Investiture, and therefore leans a lot on siblings to pick up the pieces of his life when it all implodes.

Sloth: Morgana- my girl is the most reluctant hero of all times. If I didn't force her to get out of bed and use her superpowers, she'd still be in bed. Now, yes, she does have a lot of emotional trauma and clinical depression, but the explains her behaviours, it doesn't excuse her reluctance to be the hero I want her to be. That's just sheer laziness on her part!

Lust: Avery- hands down, without a question, Ave. They are lust personified. Avery could start an orgy in an empty room.

Envy: Sarah- even though Morgana would disagree with her sister, Sarah feels that Morgana is more successful and powerful. She's not a jealous person when it comes to anyone else, and is actually a really gracious person overall, when it comes to Morgana, Sarah becomes a bit of a green-eyed monster.

Wrath: Mavis- She's a bundle of rage and spite. She wakes up every day with some fury in her soul. She just wants to go on a rampage, and honestly, I'm willing to let her!

Gluttony: Anton- he likes the simple pleasures in life, in which food is one of them. My boi has a sweet tooth, and will happily eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He knows all the best spots, and will usually be able to wrangle a reservation purely because he's spoken to the chef for hours about how good the food was.

[the-genius-az]

Back at it again with the Ludwig XIV- I mean Azula absolutist fic

====

The thick robes of the Firelord flew behind her as she marched down the cold halls of the Palace. Maids scattered and hurried out of Azula's way as quickly as they heard her heavy footsteps approach. On a good day, the Firelord might only lightly punish them for taking up space she so rightfully owned. And on a bad one...the public would get another execution to watch.

Azula stomped into Katara's bedroom with a loud call of the waterbenders name.

There was no answer, yet Azula could feel the irritated energy of her soon-to-be radiating from the windows.

Stepping onto the golden-railed balcony, Azula took a look around. And sure enough, Katara was leaning against the shimmering railing on the far edge of the tiled balcony, her face stubbornly facing away from Azula. Katara didn't even acknowledge her Lord. Azula bit back a scowl that threatened to crease her features before she stepped closer.

"Katara."

No answer. Not even an annoyed huff.

Azula glared as she stood next to her. Katara refused to cooperate even further. She was dead set on staring at the horizon of the city. Azula's eyes narrowed, the snarl finally engulfing her face as she loomed over the waterbender.

She was The Firelord. The most powerful being on the archipelago and even beyond the bounds of the borders. She, Azula, should be bowed down to, not ignored, and dismissed without a second glance. Her anger bubbled and burned her insides while she stared at Katara.

How dare she... Does she not care that Azula is Agni personified?! That Azula the Sun itself? Her inner flame raged as Azula grabbed Katara's face in her own crushing grip. Ice cold blue eyes met white-hot mad amber ones, each fighting for dominance over the other.

"I will not have this disobedience present in my Palace! You answer when you're called to. You are at my beck and call, and you will obey."

Azula stepped right infront of Katara, blocking any escape. Her anger heated the air around them, turning the warm evening into a blistering sauna.

"Or have you forgotten what happends when you refuse?"

Azula hissed out, her other hand gripping Katara's still healing wrist. The waterbender had snuck out of the Palace a while ago, determined to escape the power-hungry Azula. But she underestimated Azula's devotion and need for control.

A fully fledged search was carried out for weeks with Azula refusing even a minute of rest for her search parties. In that time, everyone suffered from Azula's nerves snapping, having a chance to get close and personal with her scorching fire. The Palace reeked of charred and burnt flesh for days after.

Katara was found in a insignificant coastal village trying to board a boat to the Fire colonies in an attempt to escape Azula. Safe to say, she failed and got immidiately taken back to the Palace.

After she was returned to her rightful place, she got branded by Azula's iron grip as soon as the Firelord had her back in her grasp. She now sported two big burns in the shape of a handprints on her wrists and sores down her entire body from Azula's harsh bedroom treatment.

"...what do you want? Here to give me more useless junk?"

"No."

Katara raised an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard at Azula's words. But...Azula only really interacted with her while trying to win her over with overly expensive gifts and to spend the night in her bed. What could she mean? The piercing glare of the Firelord's golden eyes sent a chill down Katara's spine. Whatever it was, Azula meant it seriously.

"I came here to put you under strict house arrest. You are not to step a foot outside your room, you are forbidden from talking to any of these peasants-"

Azula gestured out towards the maids scurrying around the Royal grounds, doing their chores as fast as they could lest they be met with the wrath of the Lord they served.

"-and you are to have constant supervision."

Kataras brows furrowed once the words settled in. Having guards follow her around the Royal Gardens was humiliating and annoying enough...and now they will guard every entrance her room...the complete loss of freedom that Katara so loved made her eyes widen in bewilderment as Azula's words sunk in fully.

"W-what...?"

Azula could practicaly smell Katara's turmoil. Oh, how she loved having this affect on people. The level of uneasiness and fragile calmness surrounding Azula's aura was strong. Strong enough to set off even the most cruel and stoic of politicians and ministers and convert them into sweating, stuttering messes.

The Firelord's perfectly manicured finger came to tip Katara's head backwards, the nail digging into the soft skin of her neck.

"I will know everything you do. Every move you make. Ever word you mutter. If you wish to help those low-lives, why don't you live like them as well?"

A dark, sadistic smile stretched across the previously harsh Lord's features, her sharp teeth glistened in the evening sun and making her appear all that more malevolent. Katara knew better than to speak again while Azula's hands were anywhere close to her neck. So she held her tonge.

Clearly taking Katara's silence as a win, Azula leaned closer to her ear, her crushing grip loosening around Katara's face. The Firelord leaned closer, her warm breath brushing the shell of Katara's ear. It felt less like a normal exhale and more like a warning from a dragon right before it spewed fire.

"I would think twice before refusing me again..."

Azula whispered in Katara's ear, her hand placed heavily on the others shoulder. There was no space left for arguing. With one last warning glare, Katara was standing alone on the balcony, left to listen to the lock on her door scratch and creak closed.

=====

Kinda hate how it turned out, but whatever

-Squid

Bro, I think you accidentally posted your fic here!

I love it, although it bothers me that Azula abuses her girlfriends, she wouldn't do it! She is so devoted that she would die before hurting them. 😭

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed - Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis

Above all else, Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis is a triumph of production design. From the intricately detailed miniature models and matte paintings to the elaborate costumes and soundstages to the charming Harryhausen-inspired stop-motion creature effects, every cent of the enormous budget is clearly evident. Hell, even the lighting—the radiant shimmer of sunlight reflecting off the surface of turbulent water, the eerie pale glow of the full moon peering through a blanket of dry ice clouds, the ominous neon glare of supernatural power—is absolutely immaculate.

The film’s spectacular imagery perfectly matches its themes, which revolve around the conflict between tradition and modernization. At the dawn of the twentieth century, Japan’s cultural leaders have become increasingly obsessed with urban redevelopment as a means of competing on the world stage. Rich industrialists, for example, propose the erection of towering skyscrapers that rival the gods in stature—ostentatious symbols of material wealth (as well as hubris, considering the country’s frequent earthquakes). Nationalistic, xenophobic militarists, on the other hand, argue for “practicality” over hollow aesthetics—borders, walls, and fortifications have far more strategic value than gaudy architecture. Scientists, meanwhile, prefer technological advancement to politics and commerce, embracing the logistical challenges of constructing a vast subterranean railway system. Those attuned to spiritual matters—monks, mediums, practitioners of geomancy—urge these various parties to exercise caution and moderation in their pursuit of the “future,” warning that such unrestrained expansion risks irrevocably tarnishing the sanctity of the land, thus provoking the wrath of ancestral ghosts and guardian deities. “Progress,” after all, can be a destructive force; occasionally, building something new requires burning down the old. These concerns, however, are dismissed as invalid and irrelevant—as obsolete as magic and mysticism in the era of automobiles, engineering, and electricity.

Despite this compelling premise, the plot is rather jumbled, disjointed, and unfocused. Among the sprawling (and bloated) ensemble cast, no single character ever really emerges as a true “protagonist”; vaguely sketched archetypes are introduced rapidly and vanish just as abruptly, only to reappear at seemingly random intervals. In terms of personality and motivation, they’re nearly indistinguishable; consequently, the audience has little opportunity to form a proper relationship with them. Basically, they’re merely props, existing for the sole purpose of communicating exposition and propelling the story from one set piece to the next—they’re functional, but not terribly memorable.

Fortunately, the central villain alleviates this flaw to a significant degree. With his dark, sunken eyes and sharp, almost skeletal facial features, Yasunori Kato is instantly iconic—the epitome of “screen presence.” He exudes menace, personifies malice; every deliciously diabolical line of dialogue that he delivers in his deep, gravelly growl is pure poetry, sending chills of terror down the viewer’s spine. Any scene that excludes him suffers for the omission—though even when he’s absent, his implicit threat still lingers, haunting the frame like a lurking specter, a whispered promise of calamity and impending doom.

Ultimately, director Akio Jissoji’s competent craftsmanship compensates for the movie’s minor formal and structural shortcomings; some mild narrative incoherence notwithstanding, Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis rarely fails to entertain. At the very least, it deserves credit for sheer ambition; precious few blockbusters nowadays dare to be this defiantly audacious and unconventional. Indeed, its superficial blemishes simply make its stylistic virtues more obvious and admirable. Warts and all, it is an essential genre masterpiece, worthy of being ranked alongside such horror classics as The Exorcist, Phantasm, and A Nightmare on Elm Street.

[novankenn]

J/C - the Idols of Beacon

--==(Table of Contents) ==--

(Chapter Six - Through the gates of HELL)

It was one day until Monday. One day to suffer through before Carla was sure that she would be free of the Wraith of Vengeful Retribution that had been visiting her and Joan for the last two days. Coco Adel was once again in their dorm, this time giving the pair a crash course on make-up and basic proper skincare.

Joan was in a slightly better place, if only because Carla was certain at any moment Coco would realize that Carla was in fact Cardin and then would proceed to curb stomp her into oblivion. However she was confused by Joan's reactions to Coco. Carla knew CFVY, in particular Coco and Velvet had no issues with Jaune, aka Joan.

Joan was suffering, but not in the sense that Carla was. No Joan was petrified by Coco's blatant displays of attraction. A touch here, a compliment there. Coco taking extra time to explain things, and demonstrate techniques on Joan. But the icing on the cake was the soft whispers that Coco would utter whenever she was close to Joan's ears. Joan was sure she was going to pass out just from the amount of blood being pumped into her cheeks forming a deeper and deeper blush on her pale skin.

"By the brothers... you look so sweet," Coco whispered as she used Joan to demonstrate to the pair how to apply mascara. "I could just EAT you up this very second."

Coco was enjoying her teasing of Joan, and would do it to Carla, but she could tell from Carla's body language that the young woman was terrified of her. Which she thought was rather strange. But Joan, oh sweet, innocent, delectable Joan. The things that her sublime form did to Coco was making it very hard for the Fashionista to keep from dragging the blonde into her room and teaching her the pleasures of the intimate touch of a woman.

"Are... are we done?" Joan stammered, desperately wishing she could bail and lock herself in her room.

"Almost." Coco replied as she leaned back to critique her masterpieces. "Yep. You two are sex appeal personified. I am so good."

"Okay! Th...thanks... I guess you can... can go?" Carla stammered out hoping to get the specter of justified wrath out of the dorm.

"NoPe." Coco replied, instantly making Carla's heart fall into her stomach, while Joan's jumped into her throat. "Go wash it off, and then come back and do it yourself while I watch."

"But... but..."

"None of that. I can't be coming here everyday to do your make-up." Coco cut of Joan, "I don't understand how you two... as cute as you are have NEVER used make-up. Like where did you grow up? A cave?"

"That... that... was sort of mean." Joan responded, her face involuntarily unleashing an epic pout that made Coco swoon.

"I... I... sorry." Coco admitted, as she fought back the impulse to crush her lips against Joan's.

With Coco's attention focused on Joan, Carla took her chance. Standing up from her chair, before her dressing table Carla made the motion to head for the bathroom, before spinning on her heels and bolting for her bedroom.

"CARLA what the HELL! Get back here!" Coco shouted as Carla crossed the living room. "What has gotten into you girl?"

Carla was in her room with the door locked before Coco was bale to do anything. Dropping to her behind she leaned her back against the door, hoping her slender frame could help prevent Coco from breaching.

"Joan, go clean up... while I deal with Carla."

"You're not going to..." Joan hesitated.

"Joan?"

"Hurt her? Please don't!" Joan pleaded.

"What the hell? You are acting like Carla has done something for me to be angry about. What the hell?" Coco was rather shocked at Joan's statement. "I'm not going to to do anything aside from get her out of her room, and back to her lessons."

Joan just nodded an rose from her own dressing table and made her way to the bathroom, while Coco walked over and tried the door-knob to Carla's room.

"Carla, unlock this door, and come out." Coco called out. "We don't have time for this. Now come on, why are you acting so scared of me?"

Coco waited until Joan had returned from the bathroom, and had taken her seat before her dressing table.

"Carla... DO NOT make me call Professor Goodwitch." Coco sighed when she heard the lock click, and fixed a disappointed look upon her face as the door inched open. "Enough of this. I'm not going to do anything to you. I really don't understand where you and Joan got this idea from."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine. Go clean up. We're almost out of time." Coco instructed as she stepped out of Carla's way.

So for the next forty-five minutes Joan and Carla practiced, under Coco's careful observation. Ever so slowly the actions became smoother and their technique more and more fluid. A knock on the door had the trio turn towards the door.

"Right on time." Coco stated as she stepped back from her students. "Go wash up and then get changed into your workout clothes."

"Why?" Joan asked as Carla was the first to reach the bathroom.

"Your personal trainer is here."

"Personal trainer?" Carla questioned as she exited the bathroom after amazingly clearing off her make-up in record time. "Why do we have a personal trainer?"

"General fitness and conditioning? I don't know the specifics, just that she would be here today."

Joan entered the bathroom to take off her own make-up, as Carla vanished into her room. A second series of knocks had Coco moving to the door, as Joan finished up and entered her own bedroom.

"Oh!" Coco exclaimed as she opened the door. "This is a surprise! They are going to be stoked that it's you."

"Please, this is going to be hard enough. What if their fans?" Pyrrha asked as she stepped into the dorm.

"You got this girl. Just put your foot down..."

"PYRRHA!" screeched Joan at the sight of her former partner standing in the entrance way in basic work-out gear.

"NIKOS!" Carla screamed in abject terror at the sight of the student that had demolished her and her former team... solo.

"Um... HI? It's a pleasure to..." the slamming of a pair of doors cut off Pyrrha's introduction.

"Don;t ask me. " Coco replied to Pyrrha's unasked question. "They are really high-strung, and prone to stuff like this. Don't take it personally."

"It's a little hard to not take that personally... I've never had that type of reaction before."

"You want my help, to get the out?"

"Please?"

[zorkaya-moved]

❛ make me indifferent, make me horrible. ❜ mya oak mya oak my- AJSHSHDHDG

@furiaei

Does the fire ever listens to anyone but its own rage?

Oak Casket finds herself wondering about that when the woman of rage and sun-like fire stepped onto her doorstep. Each step spoke of power, of determination, of endless potential to reach into the depths and drag out the skeletons of monsters. A morbid power, but a power nonetheless.

A fellow sinner and a fellow Syndicate-born, isn't she? A beautiful rendition of what power can be personified as. Mya had never showed an ounce of weakness, never showed anything but her true self: the vibrant, the living, the unforgiving. She was a part of the world of the living, something the silver haired undertaker had no interest in aside from witnessing the chaos (of her own creation) and watching countless deaths become salvations to those who suffered.

But Mya doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to seek salvation because her heart claws for vengeance, for revenge against the faux God of this world. The Mania runs deep, wrath taking shape in glorious red and deep voices (demands). Make me indifferent, make me horrible. Does she insinuate Oak Casket are all those things? How correct Mya would be in that assessment, watching the dual-colored gaze study her only for a moment.

It's a shame that the one who Mya comes to is not someone who would indulge such wishes, instead looking at her with an impassive glance before returning to her book. Dainty fingers clothed in dark fabric of her gloves turn the pages as she relaxes in her seat, not looking away from the words on the yellow-ish pages (they smell like old libraries, such long-forgotten buildings and such long-forgotten temples of knowledge).

"What you are asking asks for me to enter the world of the living, and it is not something I am interested in," Oak speaks calmly, her voice not shaking from the intimidation Mya could inspire within others. The fire must be feared, it hurts and burning will forever be the most painful way to go. However, Oak Casket is frigid. While Mya shines like fire, Oak Casket reflects the light akin to ice. "To become indifferent, you must abandon your revenge. To become horrible? Are we all not already? Only when you are dead will I know if you were truly horrible, only the end will tell me if you've reached the levels you wished for,"

The Listener sighs softly, putting her handmade bookmark between the old pages before closing it with a soft 'flop'. If her guest will not stop coming, then she must accept their company until Dudu comes over. Perhaps, the Phoenix will find the company of the fire personified rather fitting. They burn with life, but one is a fire of resurrection while the other is a fire of destruction.

"Indifference cannot go along with any emotion. You are not fit for indifference," Oak explains as she stands up from her chair, holding the book carefully in her hands. The poems written in this one are morbid and tragic, a longing for dead poets wished to embrace yet needed to live to share their words with the world. Does Mya want to share any words like those poets? What will be her confessions? Drenched in blood and coated in ashes, scorched beneath. "Now, is that what you truly wish for?"

[phoenixduelist]

"You have traveled quite a ways." Calypso walked calmly out of her traven, tilting her head at the woman. Her gaze neither mad or pleased simply....curious. "And you've come with purpose, haven't you?"

“Segíts” (Help me) the tortured whisper almost unheard, the rowboat swaying in the still water to the shakes of her body

“JONES!!!! ”

It was a war cry in the wildest thunder she ever sailed in. Words traveled faster than one could predict, especially about the death of an officer of such high rank. Or maybe the wretched Lord used the Admiral even in his death as he figured her out well enough to predict the reaction upon such news. And indeed he did; the Vihar rushing towards its supernatural target, it's already formidable speed fueled by the brewing storm and the Devil's infernal wrath.

Of course the Flying Dutchman watched the willingly coming prey, not even answering to the arrival by canonfire. Laughter accompanied the human woman landing on the deck until she roared the cursed captain's name with blades drawn and hellfire in her eyes.

It took a few seconds to register that she has used her first language, her torn mind desperately trying to find the right words in the right language.

“I-I don't know how should I call you. Jack...Jack has told tales about you.” Rozália managed to explain how could she find her, being reminded of the purpose was akin to having the shards of her heart stepped on, further grounded into darkness

A glance at the unresponsive man in the boat blew the shards into particles.

"Do yah fear death?" a mockery and a threat in one.

Emerald on fire noticed the familiar sword in his slimy grip.

“Do I fucking look like I do?! ” fangs bared like a feral animal, voice booming louder than the raging thunder

Most of the time Rozália fenced with level head, with an ice cold heart but this time her steps, her strikes carried savage frenzy, a soul ablaze with loss. She hadn't come with the intent to kill; she had no interest in bearing an eternal curse nor could she perform the necessary for such act. It was an extremely faint hope built on tales, fables, hardly a plan. Instead she came to find a weak spot of the immortal being as no one has ever said he was also invulnerable.

The discovery was worth the harsh kick of -what she previously thought of a peg leg- a crab leg, damascus steel sending sparks flying on the deck as she steadied her tumble. If she was injured, Rozália couldn't feel her wounds only liquid lightning in her blood which drove her forward with renewed force as it was sure that the facial tentacle she had cut off long before did not regenerate.

“He...he said you can ressurect the dead and I...believe him.” she always did. The other eccentric Captain might have colored a few adventures, but she didn't doubt this one. She couldn't deny the last hope otherwise she would fall into the already waiting abyss lapping at her feet.

She hasn't noted nor managed to get her tremors under control even after stepping out of the boat to reveal the man. She refused to travel next to him, better said his corpse, so before the trip Viola carefully closed his eyes, fixed his clothing and laid the perfectly crafted sword next to him as if he was only sleeping.

By now the madwoman was regarded as a threat, yet the crew didn't interfere, unsure of the whole purpose of the unfolding events. When the deceased Admiral's sword was knocked out of the Dutchman's Captain's grip they were eager to replace it with an another blade, failing to notice how the beautifully forged sword disappeared. Along with the Admiral's body.

Rozália was the storm personified, a whirlwind of deathly rage and instead of a slice, with one lightning strike thrust she buried her saber into Davy Jones' right eye. Twisting the curved blade to ensure her work she jumped back, the roar of agony came a second late. Her crazed grin would have made even the actual Satan halt.

The swordfight became a cruel game, a desperate attempt to save remaining vision but he took everything from her. It was only fair if she attempted to return the favor. The claw cut on her chest burned, a panicked opponent was unpredictable, even if the speed of her movements couldn't be followed by naked eye. Her decision held little to no regard to her life: sabers spun back to their sheath, she lunged at the Captain with a bestial roar, her own reflection looking back at her before her claws dug into the left eye socket and ripped the remaining one out with an infernal scream.

“Do you fear ME?! ” the question spat back with ferocity as she effortlessly evaded the blind Ferryman's blows

“I am the Devil of the Seven Seas and no curse can stand between you and my wrath. Nothing and no one will spare you from me.” the monster of thunder with gold fangs declared, her fist dripping with the blood of an immortal with his right eye in her grip. The Devil dived into the stormy waters a second after.

While Rozália dashed into her suicide duel with Davy Jones both as vengeance and distraction, Marcell rescued what left of the Admiral, Miklós stealthily swiped his signature sword when opportunity presented itself, Aranka and Jácint ensured their part went smoothly by silencing cursed crewmen wandering too close. Mátyás and Márta were wrestling with the wheel to keep the Vihar steady in the vicious storm mirroring their Captain's state. The others were waiting for the arrivals and after the insane captain climbed up to the Vihar, they took off before the enemy could even compherend what had happened.

They found themselves in a swamplike area, yet for once Rozália was sure where they were heading and it led them to the mysterious woman.

The Devil hasn't noticed the uncontrollable river or tears running down her face, all it would take was a simple shake of head to shatter her completely.

“Kérlek...Bring him back”

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @pairoleplays

"Well, would you rather have Miss Charlie speak with you? I won't tell anyone without your direct permission, sir." Don understood why Alastor wasn't wanting to disclose his history, since he only disclosed his memories of his past mortal life to only Charlie due to trust issues.

"You don't have to share anything personal, just a random part of your past history will suffice unless she asks for more." At the most, he was patient towards the Radio Demon, careful to not do or say anything that could provoke him without warning.

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @onlyheartaches

"Don't worry... I'm only a curious civilian, I have no reason to hurt you, honest." Don did raise his hands up in a passive manner to show the mutant that he meant nothing but peace.

"Learning the side effects to your abilities does help to acknowledge and deal with them properly, just in case something does happen while you're using them... Learn as you use them along the way."

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @moxxietude

"Indoor voice, Mr Moxxie." Don calmly reminded Moxxie as he continued to observe the penguin, unfazed by it drinking coffee.

"... And can't you just send it back to where it came from? That seems like the easy option, right?" It was probably a good thing Don couldn't speak nor understand penguin, as he wasn't aware it was speaking ill of his ally.

"If you can't find a way... I guess I could consult with the Princess to check if she knows of any alternative ways to get this penguin back home." He didn't want to bring Charlie into the matters of Moxxie and his workplace, already knowing about the matters regarding Prince Stolas.

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @letsstaytuned

"True... Mr Alastor did arrive in Hell a long time ago with a lot of power right from the start... If any of his enemies from the past did try to attack him at that time, they wouldn't stand a chance." Even so... Don didn't have any powers or magic the moment he woke up upon arriving in Hell.

"... I'm still waiting for the day that my former leader and killer will arrive here in Hell, the day I avenge my death is the day I'll finally put my past at rest, to close a chapter in a book I've been longing to complete when it happens... My pursuit for peace will begin, and things will finally change for the better." He felt a bit better whenever he had the chance to bare his soul, his vulnerabilities to Charlie in private... Deep down, he was scared that someone would take advantage of his past, of his vulnerabilities to hurt him more.

"So much suffering has happened in my living world, I only wish to end it by finding the cause and cure to the undead apocalypse." Lungs tightening a bit from explaining this, he paused to take a deep breath to ease the pain.

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @themosthatedbeingg

Don stopped in place when the dragon lowered its head down to the ground, just close enough where he could just walk over and touch its snout.

"... It's alright... I'm not going to harm you." Slowly lowering his right hand, he carefully rested it right on the snout of the dragon, feeling the scales upon contact.

"Where did you come from?" He wondered if Charlie and his allies at the hotel knew of the dragon, moving his right hand to stroke the dragon's head gently... The dragon's appearance did look familiar to him now that he got a better look at it.

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @mxthbladed

"I was just wondering if you still feel the pain of losing them, despite getting your wings back, Miss Vaggie... I can still feel the pain of how I died, gives me a lot of painful headaches and hinders me from functioning normally in general." Don's right hand went up to rub his scar on his forehead.

"I may have a high pain threshold, but that doesn't stop the pain in my head from being hard to deal with."

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @mxthbladed

"Is it related to security? Because I think I'm scheduled to work the night patrol unless you and/or Miss Charlie made a change to my schedule for some reason."

Don didn't mind the changes to his schedule, as long as he was able to maintain a normal sleep cycle, walking over to grab the kettle from one of the kitchen's cabinets, filling it with water from the kitchen sink then placing it on the stove to heat up on low heat.

"Remember: I'm here to help if you need it, I don't mind doing other tasks that aren't related to my duties as a security guard."

[wrxthfulguard]

(X) @themosthatedbeingg

"... I'm... Not an... Angel, per se... But the opposite of one." Don had to be careful here, mentioning that he was a sinner was going to have severe consequences on both him and Samuel/Lucifer's minds.

"Ah, it's good to meet you, Sir Samuel." It felt odd to call His King by his former name, but decided to respect it until this was resolved quickly, gently taking Samuel's hand in a firm but friendly handshake.

"I can help you in this place, but I advise you to be careful, don't want you getting in trouble for being curious."