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ashwii · 1 year

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Celestial AU FAQ

Usually I prefer pinning my favorite artworks to the top of my profile, but over the last couple weeks I've gotten MANY repeat questions about my rottmnt celestial AU. I never mind answering questions, but I want to limit how many asks I answer to keep everyone else's dashboard's in mind [i.e. I don't want to clog up other people's tumblr with several asks that have been answered in the past.]

Below is a list of general frequently asked questions regarding my celestial au. Even more detailed information and questions can be found in the "#celestialFAQ" tag on my blog.

What is the Celestial AU?

It's a ROTTMNT au where Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Mikey embody celetial bodies. Leo embodies the stars, Donnie embodies the Moon, Raph embodies the Sun, and Mikey embodies the comets.

Can you tell us more about what they are?

Leo is the stars — he overlooks the stars as a guardian figure. While he thinks of his stars as his children, he is also an embodiment of the stars — he IS the stars. They are one and the same.

The same goes for Mikey and his comets. Although, while Mikey specifically embodies and overlooks the comets, he also overlooks all them zippy lil' things in the galaxy [meteors, asteroids, etc.]

Donnie and Raph are a little different — Donnie specifically ONLY embodies Earth's moon, and is the overlooker of all the other moons in the universe. The same goes for Raph and Earth's Sun.

Are there any other characters in this AU [Splinter, April, Drax, Krang, etc]?

[As of writing this] The only other characters in this AU are April [an astronaut who works for NASA / an aspiring astronaut], and S.H.E.L.D.O.N. [a robot made of lost junk and lost space tech that Donnie found]. I do not plan for there to be any other characters in this au, as I mainly want to draw and focus on the turtles.

There have been lots of fun headcanons in the askbox about who else could be in the au and what they would embody, and I think that's great! I love all the fanart and creativity everyone is doing for this AU, I will never be mad at exploring fun ideas [I've even doodled some of these ideas for fun] — as for what is "canon" in the AU though, at the moment I'm going to keep it as the turtles, April, and S.H.E.L.D.O.N.

What's the lore behind this AU?

There is no real lore behind this AU, just a bunch of fun ideas in a fun concept. Lots of other people have had fun coming up with their own lore and ideas for this AU, and once again, I think that's great! There's so many ideas other people came up with that I love — but again, in terms of "canon" and what I'm willing to draw, there's no legitimate lore for this AU.

The Sun is also a star. Does that mean Sun!Raph has a special relation to Star!Leo in some way?

Yes! Leo and Raph have a very strong special connection in this AU because of this.

Do the celestials control what they embody?

Control isn't exactly the right word — say for Star!Leo, for example, he's more of a guardian figure to the stars. "Control" implies that the stars have no personality of their own whatsoever, but that's not exactly true. They almost have their own little life to them — like a healthy tree —that Leo can understand since the stars and Leo are one in the same.

What are Moon!Donnie's alternate phases?

Moon!Donnie's alters are Blood Moon, Harvest Moon, Blue Moon, and Super Moon. Moon!Donnie's design also changes some depending on the phase of the Moon [eg. During the Full Moon phase, Donnie has no shadow up his arms and legs. During the New Moon phase, Donnie is all encompassed in shadow].

Is there any more info about these phases?

During Donnie's Blood Moon phase, he tends to be a little more mischievous and violent. He's ready to kill, no questions asked.

During his Blue Moon phase, he's a little sadder than usual. He's not breaking down every minute or endlessly sobbing — he's more just a little blue (heh) and the unending river of tears just comes with the phase. He just needs some cuddles and comfort during this time <3

Harvest Moon Donnie is a happy lil guy! He's a little chipper and cuddly during this time, hapoy to help and talk with his brothers on end.

These phases don't COMPLETELY change his personality — he still the same Donnie, but just with little changes to his overall mood.

There are many more types/names for the Moon [Snow Moon, Worm Moon, Flower Moon, etc.] — will you be drawing those as designs for Moon!Donnie as well?

While I think I may sketch out some of them for fun, in terms of "canon" to the AU, I want to keep it limited to what I listed above in the previous question.

Are there any alternate versions of the other celestials?

Sun!Raph gets sun flares when he's upset, and I have a Nova!Leo design in the works. I haven't thought of any alternate versions for Comet!Mikey, but I don't think he needs one, haha.

What happens during an eclipse?

During a solar eclipse, Raph gives Donnie a hug from behind. During a lunar eclipse, I like to imagine that Donnie is hiding behind the earth because he ticked Raph off.

Can Star!Leo feel it when any stars die?

Yes, he does. I explained in much more detail in the "#celestialFAQ" tag, but when his stars die, it hurts him some emotionally and physically.

Whenever the Sun [Raph] would explode in the future, Star!Leo will be out of commission for a while because of how much it would hurt him.

What is Star!Leo's relationship with the stars?

Leo is the stars, point blank. He is the personification of them. He's all the stars, he is them, they are he. One and the same. BUT there's also a special relationship there — Leo looks at the stars like they're his children, almost. A very deep connection and love. The stars feel that deep love for Leo too, they see him as almost a guardian figure. They love him more than anything, and Leo knows that.

Now HOW can the idea that Leo looks at the stars like they're his children, and the idea that Leo is just straight up the personification of the stars (him being all of the stars) both be true at the same time? Ah — no real answer there. It just kind of is, and it's more of a feeling that I myself have. That's just the way that I personally feel Leo's relationship with the stars is, even if I'm never able to describe it quite perfectly, and even if it's confusing to everyone else lmao.

Do the celestial turtles still have their weapons like the canon turtles?

Yes they do — Star!Leo has katanas made of constellations, Moon!Donnie has his staff made of shadow, Sun!Raph's fists fire up, and Comet!Mikey's comets and meteors spin around him and he can shoot them where he pleased.

Is this AU meant to be accurate about how astrology and space works?

Not at all — there are a lot of inaccuracies in this AU. But what's the fun of making an au like this if I have to keep everything pinpoint accurate! This AU is for good, fun vibes, and it's ok if not everything matches up with exactly how space works.

Can I make fanart/fanfics for this au?

Yes, you can! If you do, please tag me and lmk, I'd absolutely love to see what you guys make. Oc's and fan characters are welcome as well.

#celestialFAQ #rottmnt celestial au

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wafflebroski · 6 months

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Okay, um... Can I see a scenario of Uzi comforting an adopted human child that is heavily implied to have had a sad, difficult, painful past before she took them in? The kid is quiet, timid and fearful, and is prone to nightmares and crying. Um... You can just take this concept and do whatever you can think of with it, okay?

Okay...!

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Let's be honest, the chances of Uzi taking in a human child of all things are pretty low.

So the only way I can think of her sparing you, let alone taking you in is if you had a traumatic past that she can relate to! Which was the prompt I was given.

She would definitely try to be distant at first, just give you the bare necessity's like food and water and warmth so you don't die on a hypodermic planet.

Eventually, like N, she get's attached to you.

And suddenly, she's making sure you have the best life possible for you on this planet.

Even when other worker drones are pressuring her to get rid of you, including her dad. She's still sticking it out for you.

But, having a traumatic past meaning having a traumatic breakdown!

She has absolutely no idea how to deal with something like a breakdown when she's still panicking about her own problems, let alone yours.

So, she'll try to repeat what N did, trying to make you focus on something that isn't so bad. She'll try to point out the good things you or you and her did.

"Hey, that drawing you did the other day was... good. How about we do that instead?"

So once she does manage to calm you down and the situation is under control, she'll find something you two can do for fun instead of doing all the depressing stuff.

So, this girl has almost no idea what she's doing, and she took in a human child when she has a virus inside her that's hellbent on killing all humans, but she's doing it anyway.

Speaking of the virus; Since it doesn't have full control yet, all that it can make Uzi do is make her think about killing you, since making her go out of control doesn't really work since cabin fever.

She, obviously, make the thoughts go away quickly as it came.

When she does eventually introduce you to N or V, she is keeping an eye on them since she doesn't really know how they'll react.

N is absolutely appalled that you managed to survive in hypothermic conditions on a planet that's unforgiving. He does treat you similarly to Uzi though.

V has more or less the same reaction as N, but is more on board of getting rid of you. Which doesn't work since both N and Uzi is protective of you.

Yes, N did get attached that fast.

Back to Uzi, once that's all and done with introductions, you'll be happy or frustrated to know that you rarely get to go outside the bunker.

Humans can be fragile in certain conditions. These are those certain conditions and Uzi knows that, so even if you ask her endlessly "Can I come with you?" The answer will always be the same.

"No."

So overall, her treatment of you does ease into her actually caring about you. And all things considered, I think she would do a great job with caring.

The actual parenting part? It could use some work.

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I made a longer chapter this time! These are more headcanons for human child rather than traumatized child reader, but I had a lot of headcanons for this so sorry. :p

#murder drones x reader #Platonic Murder drones x reader #Uzi Murder drones #Platonic because child.#waffleguy #Uzi just beating the ever-loving hell out of V because she backhanded the reader.#Y/N: I don't want to be on a deadly planet!#Uzi: Then why did you come here?

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pinkcherryblossom18 · 1 year

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Summary: It was planned out a few days ago, but now with you kneeling on the floor it seemed to be worth it.

This is fucking filthy

TW: Aged up Damian Wayne, Clothed Male, Unclothed Female, Pet play, anal fingering, tail butt plugs, collars, slight humiliation.

You weren't sure how it got to this, you kneeled on the carpet and Damian stood in front of the bed with a smug look on his face as he looked down at you. His hands were folded behind him in an almost regal way, a young lord looking down at his civilian mistress.

Looking up at him, you scowled at him, hands fighting to not fiddle with the dog ears that Damian had put on you. "This is demeaning," you complained, shifting on your knees, trying to make sure that your bare pussy didn't rub against the carpet.

Damian only slightly rose an eyebrow, looking at you with faux boredom. "Do you want to stop?" He asked, moving his hands from behind him to the front of him, ready to sweep you off of the floor if you said yes.

You only huffed, shifting once more to find a comfortable position before looking up at him from the floor, the soft glare still pointed at him. "No," you stated, removing your hand from your knees and placing them on the soft carpet, planting yourself on the carpet.

Moving your head, you could feel the collar that Damian had placed around your throat for the first time since he put it on, having gotten used to the loose leather. You wish you could say the same for the puppy ears, every small movement and you could feel them.

It wasn't that they were uncomfortable, it was mostly the fact that Damian was endlessly amused by them. You could see it in his eyes, the green having a certain shine to them and darting toward them every so often. It made you slightly blush whenever you saw him look at them. Hot need going down at the small burst of embarrassment and you only scowled to hide the red tinting of your cheeks but knowing Damian, he would have already seen it.

"Was the collar necessary?" You complained, hoping to rile him up.

He only looked at you with a stern expression, not as hard as he would his brother or his father but it was still enough to make you straighten out your back to show that you weren't bratting. "You know that I don't care to repeat myself. Do you want to stop?" He asked, letting you put the final nail in the coffin.

"You know I don't," you said simply, nailing the coffin shut and looking at him, watching as a small lazy smile appeared on his face at your answer.

He walked closer, sealing the small distance between you two before reaching out his hand and placing it on your cheek in a reassuring affectionate manner. "I know," he said, voice void of all emotion but you could hear the trust in his voice. The trust that had taken you two so long to build up before the mere concept of dating and emotions came to either of you.

Damian rubbed a small circle on your cheek before drawing away his hand and turning around, grabbing something from the bed. You knew what it was, you had been curled up next to him as he picked it out from online, his gaze going from it to you as he decided if he should get that one or not.

Once again, you shifted on the ground, this time from anticipation instead of trying to get mildly comfortable. "Are you going to get on with it or not," you bratted despite knowing how much Damian didn't put up with them, you didn't particularly care at the moment.

He only gave you a blank expression, nothing showing on his face but the amusement that he got from the ears was still in his eyes, maybe from your attitude now. "Are you going to act like a bitch, Beloved? You know how much I don't like dogs who don't behave," he responded and you ignored the sparks, giving him a noncommital shrug.

"Maybe," you replied simply.

A shiver went down your back when Damian's expression sharpened, his blank expression now resembling much of his sword when it was freshly sharpened, deadly. "Well then I suppose the only course of action is to breed you like one, then," he said, acting like this was a normal conversation on a normal Friday afternoon.

You were already ready before he started talking, the buildup to you getting on your knees was enough for wetness to build up in between your legs but now, if you had thought that you had already sealed up the coffin, he made extra sure of it. Red tired your cheeks, blushing fiercely, and no way to hide that or the endless arousal you were feeling.

The heat in your cheeks corresponded with the heat below and all you seemed to be able to do was talk back, an art you deemed yourself quite good at. "At least you're dirty talk got better," you said, a small chuckle coming out from the memory of Damian talking to you like an old English professor. It seemed that your and his brother's ways of talking had merged with the way that he was taught, becoming less formal in his speaking but his tone still stayed the same.

Damian only kept looking at you with the same sharpened blank look, seeming to ignore what you had just said. "Now that I think about it, good puppies don't talk," he said thoughtfully, closing the small distance in between you, almost leaning over you and making you incline your head more to look at him. "Are you a bitch in heat or my good girl?"

Once again, you started to shift in anticipation and could feel as all of your argumentive spirit left your body, leaving only arousal behind in its wake. "Your good girl," you said softly, wide and almost star-struck eyes sticking to Damian.

A small amused smile made its way to his face, almost matching the look in his eyes that were starting to fade out into a mutual feeling of wanting. "Suddenly obedient," he said, almost condescendingly, not so much praise as it was a nudge into the direction that he wanted you to be in. "Did I not just say that dogs don't speak?" He swayed his hand a bit from behind his back, a peak of brown fur coming from behind him before disappearing, teasing you about what was rapidly approaching.

He leaned down and suddenly your face met the ground in a soft smack, the carpet saving you from extreme pain and the light way that he had done so unlike the villains that he had taken down over the years had helped in it not hurting so much. You looked up, keening at your position and watching as his eyes traced over your face to make sure that you were alright before he started to look expectant at you.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you thought for a second about what he would want before pure humiliation washed over you. You were sure that you looked like a bright red tomato to him, red and embarrassed but you knew Damian, he wouldn't let up until he got what he wanted from you.

After a moment, you gathered your confidence before opening your mouth and letting out a small soft bark out from your throat. Damian looked down at you with a blank expression and you did it once more, louder this time so that it sounded out through the entire space of his bedroom.

Then a look crossed across his face, approval, sweet honest approval that made you want to worship it for the rest of your days. "Good girl," he said, letting up his hand from the back of your neck before picking you up from the floor, and settling you gently on the bed.

He joined after, pulling the both of you to the top of the bed before putting you over his lap, butt set up into the air while the rest of your body lay comfortable on the soft sheets of the bed. A hand came and shoved itself between your legs, tracing the outline of your pussy teasingly. "Are you going to stay good or shall I put a muzzle on you, Beloved? I'd rather not punish you while we are having such fun but I will if you force my hand," he said, a cold sensation making you buck a bit but a simple placement of his hand stopped you, making you stay put as he drizzled the lube over your tight hole.

You jumped again when something blunt and cold teased at your hole, Damian giving you a small showing of what would occur when he was done with his teasing. Even with the lube he didn't try to fully push it in yet, only acting like he was about to, and a few seconds later he placed the tail on the bed, exactly where he knew you would see it. "Are you ready, Beloved?" He asked, finger already right on your hole.

"Yes," you breathed out, the word almost forming into a whine. A yelp of shock tore threw your throat when he swatted your ass, the unexpected motion startling you.

Looking over your shoulder, Damian only cocked an eyebrow and leaned down a bit, both of your lips only inches apart. "I thought I said dogs don't speak," he said and you only looked at him pitifully, hoping that he wouldn't deliver punishment for one small mistake.

He pulled back and you looked forward again, readying yourself for another smack or him to start, it didn't matter when either way all you had to do was lay there and be good. Slick fingers rubbed over your hole and you suppressed a whine that was trying to force its way out of you, especially when his fingers started to trace over your slit, his fingers going up and down but never fully touching anything.

A low hum rattled in Damian, feeling the low vibrations as he gazed down at you, you were sure that in his own mind as an artist, he would find this as a piece of work. He continued to trace over both of your entrances, finger going in circles over your rim while his other kept teasing your pussy, lightly touching your clit every other lap that his finger made.

Damian, seeing how much you wanted it, finally pushed a finger into you only going down to his second knuckle, while his thumb finally settled on your clit, rubbing small, almost there circles on your clit. A sigh of relief and slight pain from the stretch came out of you as Damian started to pull out his finger from you. "Is that good pup?" He asked, waiting for your nod before thrusting his finger back in and starting to apply more pressure on your clit and his other fingers teasing the entrance of your pussy.

It was almost at once when he did it, thrusting his fingers into your pussy at the same time that he shoved another finger into your ass, the simultaneous movement made a moan of both pleasure and pain come out from your throat. Your head seemed to press itself into the mattress, the movement that was causing both pain and pleasure to come out from both of your holes almost too much to bear.

Your back arched, a mewl coming from your lips as he added a third finger to the mix, thrusting in and out while his other hand kept playing with your pussy, thumb now rubbing fast and hard circles on your clit and fingers thrusting in and out of your hole as fast as they could. Heat was almost impossible to ignore as it all built up in your stomach, a string was being pulled inside of you and with each thrust of his fingers it was being pulled tighter, almost ready to snap at any moment. "You can cum Beloved," he ordered, his voice still somehow even and calm despite what he was doing to you, displaying total control even in such a situation as this.

Those words were the scissors to cut the string, your body becoming tense and stiff, straightening out before your leg went to kick out as you cummed, loud and high-pitched moans leaving your mouth in strings. You stopped a few seconds later, your high running out and wet fingers were tracing on your back, your cunt clenching around nothing now.

The stroking fingers continued on your naked back, calming down your tense muscles until they finally calmed down. "Good girl," he said and slowly pulled out his fingers and you slumped until that earlier dull and cold sensation returned to your hole. "Relax."

You tried to calm down, still blissed out but the tail that he was putting into you kept making you buck until it passed through the first ring. You winced but nevertheless tried to stay still--stay good for him.

It was a few moments later when it was entirely in and you sighed out, relieved that it was done but a flush came back to your face, earlier humiliation returning for a second time. Then a tug was taken on the tail and an involuntary whine left your mouth at the motion.

Damian tugged on it a few more times, moving it around so that his eyes could get every angle possible but then he stopped, still tracing relaxing patterns on your back. "Are you ready?" He asked, already moving you so that you could slide off of the bed and land on your knees with no trouble.

Looking up at him, now on your knees, you nodded at him and he merely brushed back your hair before starting to undo his pants. "Good girl," he said.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne smut

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pinkvaquita · 3 months

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Dreaming with a devil

♡ Pairing: Pastry x Red Velvet

♡ Flavor: Nomal. I guess

♡ Warning: Religious imaginery. Sligh mentions of cannibalism (they are cookies, but for them is cannibalism).

♡ Author’s note: I love love love love love LOVE this two. I adore pairs of evilness and good, and the concept being twisted around, and enemies to lovers. If you don't like the ship, just ignore <3

♡ Aqui tienes la version en español

Pastry didn't believe there would be anything that would haunt her even more than the horrifying truth she learned about witches. But boy was she wrong. She could not forget it even after spending night after night, and praying after praying in front of the altar of the sacred fork.

The witches still tormented her in her dreams. They took away her appetite every time she saw food. And they make her doubt the blind faith that she carried with pride for so many years.

The sound of her kind being devoured mercilessly was something that would not leave anyone who came across that scene. Even less someone like her who saw witches as the saviors and benevolent creators of the world as they know it.

Even tonight, when the only light inside the small temple where she was doing her prayers was the moon, they were present among her words. But to be honest, Pastry didn't even know who to dedicate her words to now that she knew that the witches would have maked fun of her pathetic behavior if they saw her.

But the witches, nor their cruel actions, were what led her back to this situation of sneaking out of her dorm in the middle of the night to pray. Nor were in the nights of the previous days.

That night, that dream that tormented her repeated itself. She had chills just remembering it. The scene was almost like the one she saw in that fateful vision.

When she opened her eyes, she slightly recognized the place. The table full of inert desserts and hands that took those innocent people to the jaws of their creators who had no heart or soul with which to take pity on them.

Soon she realized that she was on a plate, and she watched with horror as one of those horrifying hands with skinny, calloused fingers tried to take her. That's when she started running. Running with the strength she never thought she was capable of, desperately avoiding the decoration on the table. Gaining agility seemed almost impossible, but when you feel like you are one bite away from death, anyone could run endlessly until they collapse from exhaustion.

It was precisely how the dream continued. She stumbled, her feet got tangled in the skirts of her habit, sometimes she collided with some object. This specific night she was trapped under a glass cup, as if she were a miserable insect. Through it she could hear those evil laughs, the mockery of her attempts to live. She thought she even heard how they decided who would have the honor of devouring her.

When that moment arrived was when everything became unrealistic. Anyone would think that because of the trauma the end is already imaginable. Someone takes her, lifts her, smiles at her pleas for her life to be spared, and ends with the sound of dough crunching between crooked, yellowed teeth.

You wouldn't expect to hear the whimper of one of the witches, followed by the war cry of another.

The nun opened her eyes to see lots of beasts with fur and fangs. Running along the entire table and attacking anyone who dared to stop them, she also did not expect to hear the footsteps of boots that remained engraved in her memory.

By the time she comes out of her dissociative confusion, he was already in front of her. And he had freed her from her makeshift prison by lifting the cup with a hand of bestial sizes and capable of brute force, which now with the purest irony extended towards her in a way that was strangely gentle.

No matter how many times it was repeated, every time the general with reddish and black hair appeared to her in her dreams she had the same reaction. Look him up and down to confirm it's him. Accidentally letting her eyes be caught by her conscience admiring what a devilish image that man was.

How did she remember his features so perfectly? The long hair, the toned muscles, the determined look, his small fangs poking out of his lips. Everything was so exact that it could be considered a terrifying, almost obsessive memory.

Before she can tell him anything, an attack by witches makes him tired of waiting. He grabbed her hand tightly and soon started running through the chaos. Keeping her away and protecting her from any danger that approaches them.

Almost always she couldn't keep up and was almost dragged along. He had the strength of a beast, it was difficult to keep up with him when she was shocked by so many events. What also followed was that almost always, when they were a few meters from the end of the table, he changed his strategy. With just the blink of an eye she went from being pulled to being carried in his arms.

At that moment a strange feeling of contradictions invaded her. This was wrong, she deserved a lesson for letting this man of imposing courage save her. She should feel disgusted that the hand of a beast touched the fabric of her sacred habit. And it was embarrassing how her gaze simply did not leave him no matter the circumstance.

In those seconds, for a moment she felt like she had forgotten that there was a massacre around her. That she was a holy woman, he was a man with sin in his veins, and that she wouldn't mind being able to stay there a little longer.

Normally, that was when she woke up. Sitting up in one motion on her bed, her heart beating like a drum inside her chest and her face burning. And it was also when she realized her actions, her sinful and forbidden dreams repeating themselves once again. Which brings us back to the present.

Kneeling in front of the altar. With her head and her feelings being a mess inside her. With only one wish to make to whoever could hear her, believing that if anything at least then her head would understand how wrong this was.

“Oh gods…” — She murmured between her lips. Looking at her hand, unable to help but think about what it was like to touch his in something that was nothing more than a dirty fantasy of hers.—“Oh gods, why do you have to torment me like this? Did I do something wrong to deserve this?”

“Why did you have to give me a personal demon that is so… so…”

“so devilishly charming…?”

#redpastry #red velvet cookie #pastry cookie #who is gonna tell her that she can dream even worst things about him?#beause if she thinks that is dirty I have news for her #pastryvelvet #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #cr kingdom #crk fanfic #dividers by cafekitsune #fanfic made by pinkvaquita

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zannabees · 1 day

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not a lot, just forever

Like the rock bears the weather—— Not a lot, just forever.

I have yet to see the vulnerability and complexity of love captured as beautifully as Adrienne Lenker’s song “Not a lot, just forever” released in 2020. While I am a firm believer that the complexities of love cannot be contained in a four-minute melody, this song will remain my only exception. From the title, to the lyrics, to the melody, the song perfectly captures love in its true form, stripped of all the glitz and glamor. It shows love at its most raw, its most intimate, and at its most vulnerable. Dare I say, this song could be the greatest love song of all time.

From the title alone, there is a sense of modesty and simplicity despite how grand the word ‘forever’ is. Adrienne Lenker explained to apple music: “We were talking about how something can happen forever, but not a lot of it, just forever. Just like a thin thread of something that goes eternally,”. It explores the concept of how small, seemingly insignificant moments, yet are repeated endlessly are bound to have an impact on us. Like how rocks bear the weather, they have changed over time, little by little, yet are still changing endlessly.

The title could also be interpreted as a forever just not being enough. It simply is just forever. It shows us how love can transcend infinity, making it seem small and insignificant. Similarly, how the holding of hands, or long embraces aren’t enough, you must be intertwined, sewn together.

While the song does capture a lot of the beauty of being in love, it also beautifully showcases the anxiety, fear, and insecurity that comes with it. In the song, Lenker brings up the safety and comfort she feels with her current partner, that she’d be willing to be a mother and be a wife, though she holds him to her knife, as her joy is tethered to him—— and just as easily as he can make her smile, by simply leaving, he could take away all her joy.

Despite the insecurity, Lenker finds peace in her partner, and to offer them the same peace, she must find peace in herself as well, though it isn’t an easy task, as seen in the lines: “So I bash around the house, and the poison stains my mouth. She comes, I let her (…)”. It’s clear that past experiences have led her to act in such a way, though eventually, when there is no sign of danger in sight, a wave of peace with remnants of guilt and regret wash over her, as she lets herself succumb to this tide, accepting the peace, knowing that with her current partner, she is safe.

The song covers a lot of the nuances and shows us how love, slowly but surely, can change a person over time. In the lines: “As the wren sheds her feathers” in the second chorus, paralleled with “As the wren bears her feathers” in the last chorus—— she knows that their relationship won’t last forever, for that would be impossible, in fact, she can never truly know how long their relationship will last. What she is sure of is that no matter what happens, their love will stay with her forever, changing her little by little, yet endlessly.

Behind the minimalistic melody of the guitar, and Adrienne Lenker’s ethereal vocals, lies true poetry. Poetry that doesn’t just scratch the surface of what love is, instead it is poetry that pierces through the concept of love and turns it inside-out. It shows us the imperfections and pain of love and how despite that it is still such a beautiful thing. The song shows us how love transcends time, and status, because that isn’t where real love is seen, real love is seen in the endless change it has done to a person. I believe that “Not a lot, just forever” by Adrienne Lenker is the best love song of all time because it tells us more than just a love story, it tells us about love as a whole.

#adrienne lenker #music #music analysis #essays #yapping #love

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the-game-spirit · 9 months

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I have been going so insane over the zelda timeline regarding totk like I am LOSING my mind

like. either 1. botw/totk is a completely new continuity. worst option. boring.

2. it is SO FAR in the future of the (probably downfall) timeline and there has been SO MUCH canon-typical time bullshit in between that the other two either bleed over OR the ever-funny hyrule warrior's convergence theory happens that it may as well be just a soft reboot and history is just. repeating endlessly. also kind of boring imho

OR 3. totk memories happen sometime after skyward sword. interesting. also a completely fucking insane idea.

it's a misconception that SS zelda and link founded hyrule! they almost certainly didn't!

did the zonai make the timeshift stuff in SS? the tower of the gods in WW? the ooccoo? a fascinating concept!

what about the triforce? who knows! i don't think minish cap has anything to do with it either and it does get sealed away at some point sooooo

but more importantly

is there a fucking dehydrated ganondorf sealed away underground for every single zelda game

most people would be like, 'no, of course not, thats so stupid how does oot ganondorf exist if totk ganondorf is in hand jail already' and 'ganondorf has a history of reincarnation/revival but that can't happen if he's still alive ya dingus' and normally I would agree! I did agree! I've been scratching my head trying to make this work since I started playing totk

except!!! except!!!!!! we have literally already seen this happen before!!!!

so. skyward sword.

skyward sword is a closed loop time travel story. I cannot stand when people try to shoehorn another timeline split in SS because no split happens. that's the point. that was hylia's plan. the first hero? before skyward sword link? hylia's chosen knight that defeated demise? that was always skyward sword link in the past. demise even confirms this in dialog. something something he's 'never seen a hylian stand up to him before.' idk the exact quote but it Very Much Implies demise has never encountered any incarnation of link before.

so. how do we kill the imprisoned (demise) in the future and then go back and kill demise again in the past in a closed loop?

because we seal demise's consciousness in the sword, and his body in the ground

the imprisoned is clearly mindless. even more mindless than downfall timeline ganon post-resurrection. it has one single goal, which is to reach the temple and.... the master sword. with the consciousness of demise sealed within.

we have confirmation that two versions of the demon king can, technically, exist entirely separate from eachother.

it isn't a stretch to think that if his body is sealed away, effectively dead and unable to spread his malice, that the spirit of demise's hatred (if its not sealed with the sword, like in totk) would reincarnate until the time comes that the seal weakens enough (the first calamity) that it doesn't need to.

obviously there are still problems here like. where are the rito? (personally I think they just fuck off to hebra, which only barely exists in any other game, and I wholeheartedly believe the WW rito are a completely different species)

if totk ganondorf is sealed under the castle before oot, but the great plateau is implied oot castle town, why didn't we find dehydrated dorf there? uuuuuuuhhhhhhh next question

(listen the great plateau doesn't really match up with oot castle town anyway, no other details really match, definitely not the typical 'death mountain to the north(east), lake hylia down south' geography we usually see)

is rauru totk and rauru oot the same or different? zelda actually calls the sages 'ancient creators of hyrule' in oot, and since rauru is the only actually ancient one there.... uh. its entirely possible! why does he look hylian in oot? uhhhhhh? magic? because seeing some giant talking goat person that has never been seen before might not inspire trust in the traumatized monster-fighting 9 year-old-turned-16-year-old. also isnt oot rauru ALSO the owl? its been a LONG time since I played oot so I genuinely don't know if I just made that up but if so the guy has a history of changing form I guess

honestly I think we do have to allow for a certain level of handwavy 'new game' leeway, just like we do with EVERY game, in order to make this work. the map is always different. some things are introduced that have never once been heard of before in any other game. some things DONT exist that have in other games. some things are so different they're nearly unrecognizable. there are little easter eggs and no, they don't always have to mean something.

#AAAAAAAAAAAAA #obv theres problems. theres always problems with the zelda timeline. this one just has more problems than most #if you want it to have ANY bearing on any other game at all. it could be option 1 or 2. its entirely possible #just. boring lmao #loz #legend of zelda #totk #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #loz timeline #if i got any details wrong lemme know i wrote this at 2am and looked up nothing lmao #spirit chats #loz meta #i do firmly believe that if it is in the timeline no matter where it is botw is absolutely downfall timeline #it CANNOT be adult because the master sword is. yknow. There.#it also cant be child because the oot sages were absolutely a thing! ruto is referenced and she didnt become a sage in child timeline #it cant be referring to the totk sages. its just. such a blatant nod to oot ruto #i get totk is just oot 2.0 but like. not that lmao #anyway sorry ill shut up about the timeline that infamously makes no sense

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tinfairies · 1 year

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I hope you're doing well! Time for another either or, Tin

Imagine being Helaena's lover, imagine her fluttery kisses, your warm embraces, the way she'd rest her head on your chest or stomach. Imagine the stories you'd tell, the games of pretend you'd play - the roles you'd take: lord husband and lady wife, knight and squire, outlaws, Florian and Jonquil, Elenai and Durran Godsgrief, starcrossed lovers running away. You'd spend hours gently caressing each other's bodies as you spun these yarns, reminding each other of the places 'you'd been', or your 'shared past' and making plans for 'your future'. Later, you wouldn't remember who brought the idea up of children, like so many other things impossible for you - for obvious, rather irritating biological reasons. Then Helaena would bring it up again, and again and again, in each scenario, in each game. Curiously, you'd ask her why.

"I can't stop thinking about our baby.", she'd admit, blushing, talking of all scenarios - her hair and your eyes, your hair and her eyes, a blend of both. A boy, a girl, tall or short, shy or confident. All pretend, you'd thought, until she asks you straight. "Would you carry our child...if you could?". It takes a while for your smile to fade, to realise she is serious. "I would, I think."

She goes quiet, but not for long. Only a few days later, your eyebrows threaten to vanish in your hair as you go to meet Helaena to find both her and Aemond there. Her little brother, a shy, but gentle lad, at least to Helaena just barely of age. He's nervous, and fidgety, but determined and eager to fulfill his sister's wishes. Poor boy, you weren't sure if he had ever had a woman, and now he'd have two, because there was no way Helaena would have no part in the conception of your child.

Alys had always scared you, at least a little. At Harrenhal, she had had a reputation. Good, hardworking girls like you knew better than to cross her path - everyone said so. But when the castle fell, who cared what the others had said? She was there, and alive, and she'd promise to protect you. How you did not know, but you so desperately needed something to hold onto as Prince Aemond burned all your life in the ground, only to quench the fire in blood. And Alys kept her promise - no Green soldier touched you, even looked at you. You had food, and access to the baths. Your things weren't raided, your room not seized or occupied, unless by Alys, of course. She holds you in the night, to keep you warm and make you forget.

You're scared at first, but she never ever hurts you, the opposite really. And she's all you had left, all you had to hold onto. Of course you wanted to make her feel as good as she made you feel, eager to learn the skills she had used to make your legs weak and your eyes roll to the back of your head. It was only fair, and beyond that, you'd do anything to stay close to her, to show your gratitude for how she had saved you, no matter how.

You say that too, again and again, but she never asked for anything, until she asked for everything. "What?", you'd ask breathlessly, feeling as if the ancient castle had crumbled away under you. "A child.", she'd repeat, stroking your palm. "It won't hurt much, and it would make me endlessly happy. Some life, after so much death, don't you want that?" Don't you want to make me happy? You were afraid, but you did. "Will it hurt?", you'd asked, Alys shrugged, smirking. "I'll be there every step of the way."

She hadn't included that the steps led you right to the bed of the Kinslayer, Aemond One-Eye. How you'd wanted to run, but Alys was right behind you, whispering in your ear and pressing kisses to your neck. You didn't want to disappoint her, ever, even if the smirk that met you and that glint of the sapphire terrified you to the core. He didn't say it, but you knew all the same that he wouldn't merely be giving the seed for the child Alys so desperately wanted, he'd take something from you too.

~❄️

Helaena, 100% I love her so much she's my wife

#tin talks

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vilkalizer · 11 months

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I...just started X, should I be afraid???

It depends! X has a really cool world and concept and a great combat system, but the enemies are like 90% meant to be killed through one specific means of attack, and only that one. You have the agile types that only Tidus has a decent hit rate against, the flying ones ditto with Wakka, the blobs that are weak to magic, the tanky ones that need a piercing weapon, and the robots which can be disabled by stealing from them. All of them have that one specific weakness and trying to do anything else is an exercise in tedium because you'll either keep missing or doing pitiful damage.In theory that's not a bad thing, i mean i don't just want to sit mashing x until victory happens, but ffx keeps repeating the same encounters endlessly through every area and enemy health goes up pretty hard as the game progresses so eventually you're up against the 50th version of Annoying Agile Fucker and it's basically the same as all the previous 49 but now it has 9800 hp for some goddamn reason and it just takes forever even with the appropriate attacks. And the encounter rate can be pretty brutal.

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its-a-journal-of-ideals · 4 months

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my only knowledge of genshin comes from my mutuals and what I have absorbed via osmosis, but your post struck my interest so I have to know - who's the 'main character' (ie who does the story mostly follow) if there is one? what is the meaning behind the title 'the wheel and the road'? <3

weeeell we follow the twelve technically-the-antags of the game (we build up to that point im not dumping twelve main characters on you at once) but we are POV the mad scientist with blue hair and pronouns(only half joking). he's dottore, or zandik, and u might have seen art of him around my blog <3

as for the title it is because one of the first sentences that popped into my head while i was developing it was "the wheel endlessly turns but never hits the road quite the same way twice" it refers to the concept of a wheel of time but accounts for history repeating only in broad strokes. the details are always different

#the wheel and the road

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a-weird-writer · 2 years

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would TTIGRAAS Diablo still love me if I was an eldritch being?

Bruh, you think Diablo wouldn't?!

Appearance checks last on Diablo's "worry" list. Lots upon lots of canon creatures live in TTIGRAAS. Mighty, weak, small, and colossal. Beings not entirely common, abnormal to the plane. Smart and eager, dumb and pathetic.

Before Diablo, Noir traveled quite long and often. His peerless years wear well, he is handsome beyond words and remains ever unaged. Curiosity miles wide, to find new worthy foes and the next new intrigue. The travels proved successful, if they were worth it however, can be argued. Wandered Earth, Heaven and Hell far enough to experience almost all types of horrors and epic tragedies. Things better unseen, unfounded.

You relate as one of those things. Immortal, remaining.

Unimmune, and just as unfair, life changes. Persistent. Thats how it is. How time moves, how space expands. Loud and constant, but silent as it takes. Like you. You're at the center of good and evil, in the void and the light whites of its invisible tears to the normal world, tears unreachable by normal methods. Floating within an empty river of screaming. The midst of the dark in-between nature and mass, you hear the noise and understand every mouth.

Every click of teeth and stretch of flesh and pulsing drums, with their strange tunes and tones. Flowing together, adapting whatever form life allows so, time feels irrelevant and sometimes surfaces back up, they bite dust and ash as a cruel result. Because none is immune to time, forward in the same direction all at once, everywhere.

You move beside it, just not in the same way mortal lifeforms do. Nonetheless they always try to twist it regardless of the consequences, it matters not if it turns dire, if it turns for the worst. Humans are desperate, caring little for price and only benefit. The confidence is admirable, but craft is worthless in weak minded idiots and value is wasted on the common fool. But it never matters, they all still go against it and each other, for power, land, authority.

They will move against time if it promises them extension, without sparing a second glance.

You never seem to stop moving, ever. As a singularity, as a bright beacon of ender and converting depravity, you do not for any particular reason. Solely because of just, it can be that simple, since you never remember. It fades, swallowed by the seconds, you give up.

Now you do…

…

Well, just.

You fly. You eventually tire of flying, memorizing the radiant gradient the fleshy ones below call 'skies', you float down. You fall, like dead leaves in autumn trees, shedding the last bits of their past homes. Twists and twirls, in motion like spinning tops. You walk or run, meeting the soil.

You breathe air, then space, then air again, only stopping to repeat. Despite needing neither, oxygen is a peculiar concept. You have to keep going, as it's all you can do and will ever desire to do. Go to move, move to go.

Because just.

No matter how much you fold yourself, or how many corners cut themselves from your ridges, or how many of those ridges then cut themselves next, you move and are moving. Not sitting, not pausing. Forever unstill, going on and on and on till your version of release catches you, as all ends soon do. Then after, you will change yet again.

Forever changing, you are change.

You are unstable, happily so. Unwitting to be stable, normal is impossible, a constant difference. A flowing river stream, endlessly running to the edgeless ocean. Casting seafoam, freeing vapor, memories of departure. Only to come back the way it came.

You define as an explorer, a rider of the stars following where the solar wind took you. You want to stretch, spread and expand. Go everywhere, see everything, do anything. See all space, experience all time. Anything that involves meaning. Because what are you meaningless?

What is a point with no meaning? You need change, you need point, you need meaning. Can't be raveled, purposeless and without goal.

Stay limitless.

Stay singularity.

Beings are chess pieces; people are roles. Playing by the universe's set rules on a chainless chess board, daring to break them. There are many methods, many ways to manifest in this world.

You hate it, the flesh contains you, bones bar you. No one likes prison. Not meant to be contained, jailed in your own unpleasant chaos. Organs adjust coldly inside you; still learning how much wiggle room they need. You're not used to being so outward on a physical plane all at once, amongst all the changes you always go through, you hate this shape the most.

You want to be you, spread far and wide, staying limitless.

As tortuous as it is, puppeteering something-painstakingly simple-you're not. Living somewhere packed with evolved organisms is easier like this, less bloody. And less weird. Even if 'weird' literally defines the main basics of your entirety. You were an eager camper, too eager, towards the little people ruling the recent space below (Always one to rush things, you need to work on changing that). You learned a long time ago that the weaker and more physical beings of colorful liquid and solid mass don't react too well to you,

the real you.

If the ear ripping screams of your unfortunate "accidents" was of any indication that these creatures (Humans and animals in all) aren't advanced enough to handle your whole self, and the rapid mind-numbing guilt that followed quick after, you don't know what a better lesson could've been.

No matter the shape your singularity-your own soul-chose, conversations with them were snuffed out, like candlelight. Gone with the wind, leaving only the smoke behind. Before you could finish sharing a simple syllable of your name, by then it was too late. The agony knocked and madness answered. You didn’t want to kill them, didn’t mean too, it was an honest accident. You would've lent a hand, help them come back to their losing selves. By lord you wanted to help so badly.

If you could.

What's in motion cannot be undone. What passed, passed. If the growing insanity of your ridiculous form didn't yet erase them out of existence, then your voice sure did. People loathed hearing it, for they aren't meant to. You heard them, tasted their nefarious fear and sorrows. Sobbed, wept for death. Noises unheard of from mere humans, random gibberish and muttering forgotten tongues. As they yelled bloody murder, raining more tears than they were actually capable of. Clawing their ears and insides out, trying to dig something out from the wet depths, their crude innermosts.

They don't know you, who are y̷̼͖̍o̷̲͆ü̵̩͚͝?̶̢͍̅͐

They claw deeper, desperate. To get you out of their heads, shaking fingers break and ribs crack and tremble. Red liquid, the gory essence violently leaks, pouring in various directions. Ripping the dire innards bit by bit, laying down on dirt, nothing to them like how you are. They don't want you to be their anything, it doesn't hurt like you do.

The bleeding worsens and they don't care, empty it all. Drain everything.

Anything to get away from you. To stop-kill-put an end to your horrible v̷̨̡̛̬̫͇̣͚̪̖͎̘̝̦͎̈́́̎̏̿̓́̀̄͆̀͒̕͝o̷̘̺̝̰͇͚̰̙̱̓̓i̶̦̮̤̘͇̱̍̒͆͗͜c̸̖̙͍̮̠̻͚̦̓̾̅͗̒̇̍͑͛̆͆̀̓̓̀̕͝e̶̢̺̺͉̥̟̬̞͉̖̓͑̆

You didn't stay, what happened next to those poor people you had a few decent guesses.

Guesses you wished weren't real.

Silencing yourself best, imagine your disappointment after when it actually wasn't much help, it didn't do much better than the latter. How unlucky, for you and them. Before you knew it, repair wasn't in reach. You damaged them far above anywhere they can sanely return from, your voice too overbearing, and the silence deadly.

You soon learned what it was like to hate your shape, for all the time you spent loving it.

You care not to melt the disheveled faces off of innocent people. Coming to find it unbearably messy, not to mention plenty unhinged. You doubt their Kings, Queens and supporting politicians take kindly to melting citizens, or ones collapsing in on themselves. Or loud screaming and frightful shouts. It's hard enough dealing with the ones of this planet, traveling as you are,

as you were.

His gaze, however, isn't what you're commonly accustomed to. You near grimace, warranted. His eyes stab daggers, his sharp void-ish lashes slices the air with each callous blink, each quirk of his brow. The red dots threaten, dares its prey to pounce, to move against its predator. Just shy of burning holes in the beach of your forehead.

His appearance shocked you to say the least, and not many surprised you, he popped out of nowhere, in a blink behind you. Not too far, not too close. Just enough to see you and for you to see him in turn. A figure of dark and malice, walking out of the home built of the looming shadows of tall trees and falling leaves.

You walked in a different place, foreign to the cities of humans and their normalcy, having heard of the inhuman homes housing in the vast great woods of Jura. Where the barks of numerous trees flourished as widely as its protective Dryads and other inhabiting monsters and grew evergreen, sprouting from the softest and greenest grass you ever felt. You didn't know what you expected from the inhumans of this planet, from how the humans of this planet described Jura and its people, they were true spawns of hell.

You are an unwritten distortion, and he sensed it. Saw it. You can't remember the last time you were taken so off your guard; the wind stolen under your feet in favor of his. This weird creature-Diablo he called himself-or well-specifically what his master "named" him-is a brand of strange rarely encountered even by you. You stared at him, same as he did, a silent acknowledgement, declaration; you admit it was creepy, but gods what an enigma.

You saw he was a lot of things, there were unsettling layers. He wore those layers on his face, and his face never stayed the same too long. It was frightful, and thats exactly what he wanted his foes and potential enemies to feel.

Fear, fright.

While he fought and killed monsters, demons alike, you are none he ever met before. He is a walking terror, a quaking rumble. A sinister sea, a nonstop flood that tears dams apart. If Benimaru is an immoveable wall of flame then Diablo is a rushing waterfall, whom buries mountains, the fall overcoming all in its path. Merciless in the name of destruction. A great demon, beyond normal forces. Calamity on Earth, without a care. Power feared and begging for release.

For all your eyes, that sees solar systems light years in distance, that could point out the nearest and furthest collapsed black holes in the space pot of never-ending phenomenon and dying stars. The stars and the nebula-outer space is unforgettable to you and the Void is most visible in nothingness; the emptiness occupying cups, ruined cities and artic hearts.

Despite all that, it would take years to observe everything his master's lovely nation offered, shake hands with all its different people, pick every glowing flower and hat off the racks. What Diablo himself offered in earnest, what else he could offer.

You were here not for an hour, not for a minute, and not even for a second. But you already dear the nation in your depths, you would cut off as many limbs-drive as many to madness as it would take to keep this wonderous city from the consuming fires of cruelty.

You already loved Tempest.

The monsters are numerous. Your body swarmed left and right, by the big and small. Moths to flame. Like hungry flies to trash.

Searching under every hole, every ripple of you.

Every nook and cranny, scattering wildfires. Rapidly buzzing in your ears, worried and questioning. But they are small kind creatures, you come to like the monster race. They are far more accepting of your odd edges then humanity was, assuming they ever did and lived long enough to tell your tales.

Questions, more questions and even more questions to those questions. Waves of recognition you're not sure you like being the center of it, they came from a place of warmth and heart. Never finished it seems to you. You grew used to being bombarded in frightened curiosity, overwhelming, and shunned by the masses that didn't bother.

But not him.

He values personal space, which you appreciated, and a clear view. Fairly cautious of newcomers, he is not blind, nor foolish. Diablo hated fools, annoyances and thorns. Unlike any other demon you crossed paths with, a unique product. If his superior complex wasn't insinuating that already. He sees-truly sees you, like your entire whole was served on a plate in front of him. His glance devoured you of any cover, of any shield. Your form, fully unmasked only once upon a time, is noticed.

You want to shake, fold onto yourself again. Fold so you're invisible. Invisible to his prying crimson, black holes for pupils.

Shrink in the soil, atoms shy in reveal, but Diablo could still see you. Would still see you. Somehow you knew he would.

Are you naked?

Might as well be. You definitely see him, hard to miss someone so intense, and casually near; no point in hiding, he tells, tells a lot of things you note. His mystery, carrying the weight of a dark ether, ablaze and ready to conquer once sent.

A tailing shadow, silent and transparent.

Threatening to cover, overlay you, intimidate. Only gone the instant his master needs him, rushing to answer every call, like the loyal servant he is. Power is no joke; he bites and insults, but he never barks, as that is uncanny. Instead, he slices. Cuts deeply and chops. Uses tools as meant to be, used to their prime, exhausted of their inches. People cowered before him in the past. And they still do. He is a proud servant; open about what and who he is.

You are jealous of that honesty; the carefree malice, how utterly open he is to the world. The ease of his whole. How free he is, even bound tight in contract with his great master.

Freedom of expression.

You're sure he knows of it. You can tell he takes pleasure in your unease. Smirk tight, smile unwavering. His eyes smile too, empty of humanity. The glare of a demon of demons. Sharp as knives and wide as trenches. Long lashes, deep voids, red and golden nebulas, centers of galaxies selfishly swallowing every ounce of the light for themselves.

Black holes for pupils, orbiting stars if that were possible.

He proves amazing at mindreading, though your thoughts are closed in reality, in a writing he doesn't need to understand. Outside of this land and the next.

Evil senses evil, purity senses purity. Angel senses demon, demon senses angel. Recognized relation, and like you, he is another ugly ancient. His body is a costume you know better than to believe as a true face. Not one to be underestimated, one with sins and shadows. Whom is mangled and has mangled weaklings, lesser lifeforms. Your ugliness is visible to his watchful demonic eyes, understandably wary (Protective because of the potential threat you pose to his master.) but overall wondering. What can he do to pick you apart? What should be irritation is instead fascination, beautifully laced with childish wonder. You slit gazes like his at the seams, just by existing in the same earshot, but he doesn’t tear a single bit.

In full view of your soul,

the ugliness,

the divine with all its uncanniness and insanity,

he never once breaks.

What kind of man do you take him for? Diablo is no troll, won’t mind warts or moles. He has more table manners than that, give him some credit at least. A primordial demon he may be, he is still a gentleman, one hell of a butler. Blood, exposed guts or extra pairs of striking peepers and sneering mouths don't disgust him, undeterred. Requires more than a simple ravaged vision to send him running tail between his legs.

Every bizarre part, bit and broken tear. The ripped-fractured-air along with it. There is unknown beauty in the misunderstood and the otherworldly mysterious, majesty. What humans see as hideous and abominable; Diablo sees as proof of how majestic and large this world really is.

He understands you, but also doesn't. You were a level of inhuman he couldn’t hope to ever achieve, nor every other fleshy person on this floating space rock. A realm of being not possible by normal means. He supposes that is the part of you he is practically envious of, he has his own greed to worry about.

This body isn't your true face like how you know his isn't. You're an expert on wearing differing faces, changing bodies and covering the aura of your soul. There is a sinister power, a darkness dormant, worshiping him like how nothingness follows you. You were similar a few too many ways, it was nice to finally have a friend you could open up to, only slightly out of nervous habit.

Just another manic Monday.

Feels cruelly keen. Focused.

Intrigued by your horrific cosmicism, Diablo comes, stalking. Seeking his own answers. Inquisitiveness is incredible, weirdly charming. Flattering. More importantly, his Inquisitiveness didn’t bore from fear. It bore from pure, genuine curiosity. Coming of a man who desires to learn more and more about this world, all its enigmas and hidden secrets.

Confusion isn't new, everyone longs for a basic level of understanding. Yourself included. Oddity is bound for attention, it attracts. And you are odd in every aspect; what piece of you is true to the light and fake to the naked human eye? How many layers of true flesh hide anchored beneath the lively valleys of bones and waving limbs, what secrets of the world do the lightless black voids of your countless eyes reveal that his does not? If you cannot exist, why do you?

Such a fascinating creature you are...

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lowat-golden-tower · 1 year

Text

concept: a horror game where you play as a late night door dasher (based upon my own personal experiences)

Your name is ____ and you just completed yet another 9 hour shift of your full time day job. It’s already almost 10:00 PM but the siren’s call of making more money to make ends meet calls your name. You don’t have to be at work until 12:30 PM tomorrow. Sure, it’s nearly a 1 hour commute, but you can be home and get plenty enough sleep. Dinner? Well, surely there will be time for a quick bite between deliveries. Or you can pick up some snacks from a gas station. Come on, the app says it’s busy, time to make some money!

The game would start with you leaving the parking garage. It’s simple gameplay. Drive around a large open world, from city to suburbs to country, only leaving the car to pick up, drop off or get provisions. You can decide to head for home at any time, but the goal is to make as much money as possible. Which means staying out later and/or opting not to spend money on provisions.

Except the later it gets and/or the less you meet your needs, the more things start getting fucky. Late night delivering is flirting with liminal danger whether it’s the witching hour or not. When the sun goes down the world closes off and as the streets get emptier, you start feeling like they actually aren’t so empty.

Repeated visits to the same restaurants and stores will result in reality slowly warping as hunger or thirst or simply exhaustion claw at your mind.

Is that worker watching you? Is that hostess’s smile a little off? The laughter of that couple in the corner is so loud- are they laughing at you? Was the lighting always so bright? Why does the restaurant appear closed, but a voice crackles out of the drive-thru speaker at you anyway?

And that’s just the pickup. Drop-offs start to make you anxious. The creeping white light of a farmhouse in a dead silent countryside; pitch black beyond a few winking lights in the distance. You approach a house and the vicious barking of a dog starts up, only to warp into sounding something inhuman. You walk down the hallway of an apartment complex and hear breathing. You take a rickety elevator with a vent missing a grate and fear what awaits when the doors open. A woman, grinning, skips past you out the door of another complex wielding a kitchen knife. A man stands in an empty hotel lobby and greets you, saying “you’ll know it when you see it” before leaving the hotel.

And driving. Oh, the driving. Your exhaustion mounts and you can play the radio but it helps less and less as the night wears on. The numbers on your clock blur. The darkened street in some lamp-less suburb stretches endlessly before you. You pass beneath one sole light at an intersection. The streets are empty. The world is silent. You cut down city streets lined with abandoned buildings and can’t decide if it would be safer to lock your car when you leave it, or leave it running.

And as the situation deteriorates, you’re tempted to go Home. To retreat to the comfort and safety, and to sleep, and a hot meal. But every time, you hear the DING of another delivery offer. Another fifteen bucks. Look at the tip on this one! Just one more delivery. It’ll be fine. It’s only 2:00 AM.

Every little bit helps.

Of course, this could just be an experience, or it could be a legitimate challenge wherein you need to actually manage your needs and make split-second decisions when confronted with the horrors and not-horrors. After doing this for over a year now, I just find late night delivering to be its own brand of real life anxiety and terrifying situations and well. Figure it’d be fun to share with the world. :)

#horror #horror game #door dashing #food delivery #some of the shit i described yes i experienced #if you want details feel free to ask

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pamalandong · 6 months

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Eternal Return

Some choices we make can significantly alter our present circumstances and set off a ripple effect that can reshape the course of our lives. For example, Julius Caesar's decision to cross the Rubicon River forever changed not only his life but also Western history.

The great novelist Milan Kundera explored the complexities of human choices in his novels, in which characters are confronted with questions like these:

"What would I have become if I had made a different choice?"

"Could a different path have made any real difference?"

Friedrich Nietzsche once conducted a thought experiment centered around human choices. He posited that each of us has a million lives, and every action from our first life could be replayed throughout these lifetimes later on. In other words, the consequences of our choices would endlessly repeat – every joy and sorrow, triumph and defeat, imagination and experience would be perpetually revisited.

Just imagine enduring the same joy and pain in an eternal cycle. Just as we might relive the warmth of a grandparent's smile, we could also find ourselves uttering hurtful words to a long-lost friend from high school. The actions and events of our first life would recur in this eternal return.

Nietzche's point is not about whether or not the eternal return is real. But it’s the idea that if it were real, better make good choices. It’s about putting emphasis on making thoughtful choices. People must treat their life now as if it can echo in a million lifetimes.

Of course, Nietzche does not believe in God. And to me, his concept of eternal return epitomizes an injustice towards humanity as if we are forever doomed in our flawed human nature, leaving no room for ultimate peace and reconciliation.

But I’m assured of the fact that all things will pass, including every bad and beautiful, right and wrong in all lives on earth—including mine. I have faith that love so great will destroy this world once and for all.

#spilled words #writing #spilled thoughts

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sweetsilveryrevenge · 9 months

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when a pair of church bells can shake me. take me for all I am worth and shatter it in front of me. sending me crashing. crashing. crashing.

taking myself on a walk and consoling myself and wandering down to the beach while shaking and arguing with every part of myself, words just fucking falling out of my mouth as I trail along and gradually pull off all my jewelry and try to keep as composed as I can. just. going. and going. and going. along the road. seeing so many small businesses that must mean people's lives to them, it's so stupid and futile and barely makes a dent in the world but to them, its purpose and it's a world of its own. I'm the stupid one for not being able to lose myself in a passion like that. why can't I have something to make me feel alright.

walking along the very end of the sand next to the harbour

endless poetry coming out of me. against my will. just tumbling out. crying. screaming and feeling the emotion of everyone who has ever lived. terrified. and beautiful. alive. undoubtedly human. scared of my own existence. It is beautiful it is raw it is disgusting. wishing to die wishing to live forever wishing to be nothing but mortal crying like a baby wishing to be a child again. apologising to every other soul who has walked this earth and this sand I stand on. my life is so insignificant. it is my short eternity. crying out to infinite people, ahead of my time, ones who died before my existence, I love you, I love you, trying to pull myself away from this tide.

walking away, endlessly spiraling, my life my life is my eternity.I will live until I cannot live anymore. I am dead in life I have never lived. Repeating. I will scream until I cannot anymore I will tear the world piece by piece by piece. I will claw until I cannot. I have been dead from the very second I have existed. I will keep going. it is what I do. it is the only thing I know how to do. I will keep dying. again. and again. and again. cry my makeup off to the water again and again and again. I am dead in living. doomed by existence. undoubtedly human. afraid to love. afraid to live. the walking guilt of every dead that speaks to me in my mind. they haunt me, they want justice they want remembrance. I will be like them, I will be forgotten completely at one point. until only my concept can be remembered, by some poor soul like me, plagued with the thoughts of a dead universe upon their shoulders dares to think the same thought I once had.

forcing myself to adjust. to normal. clean up the gaping figurative shot wound in the centre of my skull and pull myself on a tour. out of hell. dragging myself. through hell. around. around. up. down. too tired to even think . dragging myself. up. up. up. bridge . over a wide central road. staring. fuzzy. leaning. hands on sharp edges. A church bell strikes in the distance and I feel my breath come in harshly, ice cold on my throat. my heart beats in my ears and I feel myself swaying onto the rail. so tired. but so energetic. body more ready to exert itself than my mind is letting me know. ringing in my ears. sickening. like I'm going to pass out. so loud I cannot recognise the sound of a car rolling up next to me so slowly, tires crunching. A gentle turn. and a dead eyed stare. police. we stare and I disappear like a slow breeze, empty but caught. hollow inside with a thought rattling in my head that maybe I was stopped by their prescence.

I haul myself through busy streets and up more hills. deep city. late night. alone. colder. glaring. face permanently twisted into a scowl. echoes of makeup dusting my cheeks. music on.

the man who screamed at the universe and cried like the cosmos has retired now. put back on the shelf like a dusty old book you don't understand the word choice of. inside me. waiting. waiting. until a chance comes to feel divine again. as if he is instructed to die in that moment. to make it dramatic. and that is all he is good for. we are connected. he does not indulge in futile human endeavours. I share his sentiments and cry over them in the comfort of my own bed. but I can compose myself. I can hold back the vocabulary vomit. I can live. for him. I can be his futility.

I am clinging on. we are holding each other. a flood of obligation and a sea of uncontrollable but indescribable feeling. hands frantically wrapped around me. nails digging in. into fuzz and emptiness. into the mass of nothing that I am. adapting. continuing because that is all I know. ready to face the end wherever it shall pull the ground from under me. I will not fall. for when I hit the ground I will realise I never left it in the beginning. I have always been there. for as long as I was capable of falling. catastrophic. pretending. hiding. always just under the surface. Do not stick your hand in the water. it will bite you and its teeth will sink in so far. it will become infected. it will spread to you until the effects are fatal.

We are clinging on to each other. so tightly. for life. for death. we are all we can depend on. we are the only ones who can understand each other. others can pretend but they can never feel it as personally. never as intimately. we are all we have.

#v-text #tw sui vent

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