#old rotting corpse ass bitch

[frecklenog]

finally watching house of wax 1953 ,, thots under tha cut

YAYYY WAX WOMAN W KNIFE

HI MR PRICE HIII HIIIII

the subtitles dont work o no :(

“that should be they now” pronoun user ..

soo curios whether these r real wax sculptures.. some of them are. obvious. but others i straight up expect to move. the craftsmanship is incredible

HI JOANIE !!!!!!!!

also curious about the clothes. are they real cloth or are there sculpted parts too. is it just a full body underneath or is it just the skin that’s visible. tho admittedly i don’t know much abt wax sculptures despite having the ‘05 movie as a longstanding hyperfixation 🥴

HIS NAME IS FUCKING JARED????

oh okay he just turned booth’s head. so that’s probably not connected to like. more wax skin.

if jared is the one doing the killing i support him. jared did nothing wrong this mf is setting his art on fire for insurance fraud. he should murder

marie :(

ok the burning clothes r answering my questions LMAO

JARED GET UPPPP

JARED

jared you fucking suck at fighting. knock it off w the water bucket and KILL THIS FOOL

ono. explodegeon.

OLD TIMEY FIRE DEPARTMENT YAYYYYYYYY HORSES YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY 🐴🐴🐴

OH THIS BITCH.

“had i been there i might have saved him” kys you fuck

“they always want a corpse :)” i love this strange woman

ohhhh all these mary poppins ass dresses J’ADORE

i hope jared is waiting in this fucker’s house with a club

OH MY GOD YAYYYYYYYY

he’s got a little bit of a “freddy kreuger cosplaying nosferatu” thing goin on. tbh

hiding..

someone get this man a cane or smth. my god. SOMETHING

LMFAOOOOO GOODBYE BITCH

“yes. but he hung himself instead 🥰” SHE IS SO BIZZARE

“you got all the brains and all i got is the boobs!”

CATHY’S SO SWEET 🥺🥺🥺

her laugh is. a little much. cute here and there but with the amount she does it it gets grating. but it’s very much of the time ain’t it. cinderella and snow white and alice in wonderland ass giggle

oh hey jared i almost forgot this was house of wax

SUE ???????

i mean tbf. what on EARTH is jared doing here. but maybe he would explain if he could get some dialogue

not that i don’t love silly chase scenes. i just wanna know Why yfeel

jared please leave sue alone

SUE YOUR SHOES?

oh weaponshoes. punch shoes.

ok i was here for killing matt or whatever his name was but cathy didn’t deserve that :/// cmon jared

I DIDNT THINK THOSE AUTOMOBILES WENT FAST ENOUGH TO HURT ANYBODY AHSJSGSJGXJAGSJSBAN

dont call dead women “honey” like that that’s weird.

I DONT THINK EMBALMING FLUID MAKES PEOPLE SIT UP LIKE THAT.

someone sit up again that was funny

YAYYYYY HI JARED

he is just scrimbling around……..

boy what on earth are you doing

is he going to defenestrate her bo- HE IS OH MY GODDDD

who is helping him. what

JARED DONT STEAL BODIES?????

“no human being can look like that” you wouldn’t say that about a scarred vet you chunk of shit i oughta kick you in the both of your balls

who is this very attractive man in the apron……….

JARED OH MY GOD. HI JARED !!!!!!!! how.

igor is so pretty and so fucking talented. would. in a heartbeat i would.

jared’s wheelchair fucking rules. vincent should’ve used a wheelchair i think.

i wonder if this is really how any of this process goes. it makes more sense than vinnie’s godawful shower

MATT FALLING OUT OF THE BOX AJSHSJHSNZHSJSB

daaamn this movie has an intermission. not even an hour in

HELLO PADDLEBALL MAN

OH MY GOD IT MOOOOOOOOVESSSSSSSSS

the 3d nonsense is so funny omg

THE LADIES PEEKING THE WAX DICK SKDHJDBSNDB

WAX CHOPPPPP

oh millie :(

WHY DO YOU CARRY SMELLING SALTS. JARED. IS THAT TYPICAL 50S BEHAVIOR. (genuinely unsure)

just a dead ass body on display lmao get fucked matt

the chamber of what.

OH MY GOD CATHY.

jared this is why we don’t just put wax on human bodies. you get found out by the friends of the deceased. also the rotting

jared please dont kill sue i like sue. i liked cathy :((

jared seems like a chill dude. aside from the.

waves my hand vaguely. You Know

please got JUST SCULPT HER. JARED. JUST SCULPT HER. STOP CHEATING

something is deeply wrong w the paddleball man. sir this is post-hayes code why do you have balls in your mouth

JARED. JUST ASK HER TO MODEL. CHRIST.

honestly tho WHAT is the explanation for his face. please. pl

THOSE DRESSES LOOK SOOOOO FUN TO SPIN AROUND IN !!!!!!!! 🥰🕯️

“you never saw a show like this in provincetown” MASSACHUSETTS MENTIONED 🐞🐞🐞🐞🐞 (there r no chickadee/elm/mass flag emojis)

PTOWN ALSO MENTIONED 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

girl put your ass away i’m here to watch vincent price be Odd and Peculiar

“cathy had the habit of wearing an earring in her right ear. she had the lobe of her right ear only pierced for that” cathy was out there in 1953 using flags for gay men to spot each other not established for another two decades

sometimes i watch dancers in old movies like this and i try to spot my grandma maggiepat. that’s not really related to the movie but i do wonder. i know she was in the red shoes…

“why should joan of arc have her right ear pierced?” “why not? they wore them then.” “two, not one.” WHY DID CATHY ONLY WEAR ONE THEN !!!!!! someone who knows about 50s culture help me

ohh his name is henry jared. whatever.

the long highwaisted skirts….. :)) 🕯️

sue. sue get down from there

igor is SOOO HANDSOME god okay i’ll be normal sorry 😔

jared. no. bad. knock that off. spraying him with a squirt bottle

god he’s INCREDIBLY charming tho. mad props to mr price

oh my god LEON..

sue should Not be in here alone at night. girl this is a horror movie and you are TRESPASSING

oh hello skeleton

unidentified fucking thing just drifting creepily around the room 🆗🆒

WIG…………….

hiiii mr price

ok jared can walk like. fine. who ACTUALLY fucking killed cathy whose physicality was that

HE WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE A WAX FACE …….

JARED SHES STILL ALIVE. JARED. JARED.

why was leon convinced by that guy pouring liquor djgsjdbs

idc what happens i could fix igor. me and him and vincent sinclair. fuck timelines

hdkdhjdgd THIS FUCKING GUYY

i’d let igor do this to me. who said that.

HES SO RESOURCEFUL AND INTELLIGENT

girl what is scratching the wax gonna do. be serious

LET IGOR BEHEAD THIS GUY

HE IS DEAF AND MUTE LEAVE HIM ALONE STOP SLAPPING HIM I WILL BECOME VIOLENCE

why are you using the pointy end of that thing to bust thru this door. surely there are more effective ways to go about this

goodbye pig

“every time i shave i can still feel that guillotine blade” it never made contact with you. or you would be dead. dont try to be funny

why did shane sneeze.

NOOOOOOO IGOR :((((((((

#shut up emrys #:candle:

[masquenoire]

if you're still taking them- checklist for Jules

Send “checklist” and my muse will fill out the list below with their thoughts about yours!

"Man, you're one nasty old son of a bitch..."

I find you to be:

[X] interesting (Anyone chowing down on bodies is the dictionary definition of 'interesting') [ ] cute (In a sad old hobo way? Maybe??) [ ] attractive (Not to my tastes) [ ] sexy (hell mother effing no!) [ ] reassuring (Nothing about you is reassuring) [X] intimidating (With the whole 'weirdo eating the rotting flesh of your past kills' type deal situation? The fuck do you think?) [ ] annoying [ ] tedious [X] terrifying (Well, you terrified David into puking up dinner so...)

I think we should:

[X] talk more (Maybe I can use as my personal body disposal unit? Croc can only eat so much and sometimes he gets caught) [ ] hang out more (At a distance) [ ] date (I ain't into dating old feral cannibalistic hobos) [ ] adopt each other as found family (Maybe you can be a pet or gang mascot, I don't know) [ ] fight (friendly) [X] fight (hostile) [ ] avoid each other if at all possible

If we spent an evening together we would:

[X] just hang out [X] talk about deep stuff (You. You work for me now) [ ] cuddle (No thanks lol) [ ] go to bed together (to sleep) [ ] go to bed together (to… not sleep) [ ] go out and party till sunrise (Could happen if all goes well) [ ] both get arrested (That's a possibility. I'm pretty sure cannibalism of corpses is still a crime even in Gotham) [ ] probably wind up killing each other (Also a possibility. I ain't letting you snack on me though)

If we kissed it would be:

[ ] a chaste press of lips (no thanks lol) [ ] a playful smooch (ew) [ ] swift and stolen (ew) [ ] deep, sweet, and sincerely meant (ew) [ ] all teeth and tongue and hot as heck (fucking ew) [X] not happening

If we had sex it would be:

[ ] romantic and luxurious (Hell naw) [ ] fast, rough and hard (You can't handle what I got, old man) [ ] against the nearest wall (The only thing I'm doing here is throwing you at the wall maybe) [ ] fantastic (Somehow I doubt that) [ ] awkward (Too awkward lmao) [ ] a really bad idea (Ya think??) [X] an all-around disaster [X] not happening

If I woke up and found you unexpectedly in my bed I would:

[ ] cuddle you (Gross) [ ] offer you breakfast (Fuck you, I'm not on the menu!) [ ] attempt to seduce you (Nasty) [X] kick you the fuck out (then I'd give your ass a royal beatdown) [X] demand to know how you got there (Umm yes??) [X] scream (Wouldn't you??)

#draggeddowntothedark #memes ;; checklist #I FEEL SO BAD FOR JULES RIGHT NOW #Roman is so fucking rude I swear lmao #Jules deserves better than this XD #But so far I've really liked their interactions?? #Alas poor David is still a wreck #Puking up all the floor #This was fun thank you for sending it #It put a smile on my face that's for sure

[goffilolo]

Black Clover thoughts - devil edition

Quick! Black Clover is coming back from hiatus soon and I need to share my silly thoughts about the devil lore before Tabata ruins it. Some of it is vaguely based of demonology, and some it is just my usual brain rot.

I got so much shit to say about Beelzebub. First of all I need to know what that bitch actually looks like, because how else am I supposed to draw him as anything other than his shadow form or the gremlin form? C’mon Tabata, don’t be shy babygirl, show me the face of the devil that was subscribed to Zenon’s gay depression for the past 20 years or so.

Also regarding Beelzebub, I came up with this whole running joke about how he invented Christianity, which originally started off as an MLM that was ran by him and a human he was contracted to named Jesus. Basically long story short after Jesus’ death he ended up possessing his corpse for a few days, which is how the crazy rumors have started and the ‘apostles’ which really was just Jesus’ downline (minus Judas who was the only one to realize he was being scammed) ended up spreading the news further and over time it spiraled into a religion. I choose to accept it as canon in my heart because I find the idea of a whole religion being accidentally invented by a devil to be hilarious and if I incorporate it into my AUs it means that Astaroth has to grin and bear Orsi and Lily’s good natured offers to baptize his kids, while choosing NOT to tell them that their entire faith is a result of a devil scam.

I don’t have that much to say about Megicula as of yet, other than my personal belief that since in canon she ended up taking Astaroth’s place during the Qlipoth she could’ve been his student/successor back in the underworld. I’m imagining full on ‘crazy disgraced mana theory professor and his sidekick that thinks her superior should probably be institutionalized, but is also writing down everything he says’ vibe. Add in to the fact that Megicula canonically shows no understanding of significance on interpersonal connections and her fascination with things that strike her interest seems rather cold and calculating, and all I’m picturing is this devil critter with a clipboard aggressively writing down stuff while muttering ‘interesting’ at the most boring and benign things about humanity and human realm in general, and I’m saying this specifically within the context of my Peanut Gallery AU.

Adrammelech’s lazy ass during the entire Qlipoth? Iconic. We know nothing about him yet we stan for the personality alone. According to demonology he’s in charge of Satan’s wardrobe, so the idea of him being like a royal stylist? Spectacular, no wonder he acts the way he does with Lucifero. Peak troll behavior.  Also, is that the reason why Lucifero looked the way he did at Qlipoth? Did Adrammelech roll up with some clothes on a hanger and say ‘today we’re doing a maxi skirt and tits out kind of look, people are gonna love this’? And Lucifero just went with it? I demand answers Tabata!

Speaking of the bitch himself! I sincerely believe that Lucifero is shit at what he does. I mean like Augustus level of incompetence. Silv and I had this running joke that the reason underworld is such a shit place to begin with is because Lucifero is very bad at managing it and that the lower rings of the underworld are their equivalent of forsaken realm, but worse,which explains why Liebe’s life there was so terrible before he got yeeted at the hellgates. Lucifero is the single most disliked political figure there but everyone is too scared to say it out loud because of his power. And all the other supreme devils in their political cabinet just have to put up with his ass.

And finally, for the honorary mention in this post - good old Lucifugus. According to demonology this guy is like the prime minister of hell, meaning that Lucifero just pushes all of his paperwork onto him. This man has not had a vacation in at least 5 centuries and he won’t have it for another 5. He hates his job, he wants to retire, he could sign Lucifero’s paperwork in fuckin crayon and his shitty king would be none the wiser because he does fuck all. No wonder he murdered Nacht’s family and all the other people at the ritual. He was probably pissed off at being summoned while he was in the middle of doing Lucifero’s work for him.

#black clover #beezlebub #megicula #astaroth #adrammelech #lucifero #im not gonna tag all of my au's but if you follow me you know exactly what the context is

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

#i didn't mean to recap the entire fucking episode lol #sorry #it's to make up for my lack of content lately #or something #anyway #caryl #twd s11ep1 #twd s11 spoilers #dunlap tp

[whalesfallmoved]

soft descent

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. 

chargestep. rated m. twisted memories and revenge and nightmares of all kinds and ricardo ortega, starring as sidestep’s poorly repressed self-doubt, in a manner of speaking. 

or, sidestep sees nothing clearly, and her head has never been a pleasant place to be.

warnings: implications of suicide, slight body horror, violence, injury. hurt, without comfort, because of course. 

ao3 link.

——

“Oof, that’s going to leave a mark.”

You’re standing next to the window in the dark the sun blistering overhead and the glass shattered underfoot. He’s looking down. You’re looking at him. It’s always been like that. When you look down you’ll see— no. You’re not going to look down. You’re going to look at him.

“It didn’t feel great.”

He smiles and it’s broken, one hand on the windowsill, one hand on his gut where Catastrofiend’s goodbye kiss drips slowly, wetly, a splash of violence against the cobalt blue skinsuit, Ranger-proud. You want to say you should get that looked at but it wouldn’t do any good, he’s already gotten blood all over the carpet. 

Soft laugh and when he licks his lips you can see a hint of red, waiting to get coughed up, waiting to get expelled, the body killing itself to save itself—you remember the way it stuck between your fingers, the delirium—beg, the monster-thing demanded, and he laughed then too.

You look down at your hands. The way they curl up, clinging to air.

Are you bleeding? You must be. 

“Yeah, I know all about that.” 

“No,” you shake your head and your spine pops, “you don’t.”

“What, are we comparing jumps now?” 

“Are we?” wouldn’t that be something. He never talked about this before, why start now? Trying to get you to forgive him? You won’t.

“It was a longer drop.”

“And there were people there to help you.”

“Depends on your definition of help.” Head jerk to the side, beckoning you to look, look down, look at them, look at you. “Technically, they helped you too.”

Bite down, taste blood and bile. Have you started choking yet down there? You remember the way it sluiced up your throat, the way you could feel the crack and splinter of your ribcage. His brows furrow a little and maybe he feels bad. You hope so. You hope it’s twisting him up inside. 

“Wish they’d helped me to the morgue.”

Exhale, ragged and wet and torn. 

“Yeah, those contracts are a bitch, huh? Nothing like a blood debt.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” You taunt, vision hazy bones aching— pulse in your ribs, they must have picked you up by now, isn’t that nice. He’s still looking down, waiting for something to happen. “Poor Ricardo. The US government branded on his ass till the day he dies. Join the fucking club.”

“Hey—” he hisses, flashing his eyes to you finally, “you could pretend to sympathize.”

“I’m so sorry you have posters and trading cards and get invited to award ceremonies and—”

“Oh, I knew I have trading cards, but how did you know I have trading cards,” a wink, sly, charming and wrong, like a bone splitting the skin. “Collecting them, aren’t you?”

“You wish.”

You want to throw up. His neck is bruised. 

He sighs, knocks his fist against the window. You both flinch. “They’re gonna keep you going till you’ve got nothing left to give, you know.”

And this time it’s your turn to laugh, bitter and cruel and serrated. You want to twist the knife in his gut you want to rake your nails down his skin, it’s the least- it’s the least you can do, god you are so angry you shake, but you’ve always been good at staying still. Hold your breath, don’t scream, fuck that hurts, and now he’s looking at you full on. “I’m already out. No thanks to you.”

Maybe he sees the way your hands are starting to twitch. The smile softens and you want to kiss-bite-punch it bruise blue to match his stupid fucking suit. 

“Are you?”

Are.

You?

I am.

Am I?

A snake in your throat curling up ready to snap bite. Your lips twist, scene hazy at the edges, and when you get your hands around his neck (oh those are the bruises, they look like your hands) you’ll both be sorry—“fuck off.”

Magic words.

Ortega shrugs, pushes the window open like it doesn’t matter, like it didn’t matter, like he can just do that; he always had to make it about himself, can’t even leave you your death, can’t even leave you your place at the window. 

You want to shove him away from it.

You want to shove him through it. 

“If you insist.”

Close your eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

—

Dr. Mortum does not smile, not until Angel flashes her a wicked grin and a bag of cash and a promise of more where that came from if— if— if—

She flips through the schematics, eyes brightening—the loose design, the necessities, the ideas—oh, you are going to do such great things together. 

“It can be done, I assure you.”

“Excellent. My employer wants nothing but the best.”

— 

The sound of waves takes the edge off the thump of a corpse hitting the ground, but you aren’t ready for it—you aren’t ready for the scent of rotting meat, rancid and cloying under the Los Diablos sun.

You open your eyes and when you look down, a dead girl is mangled, half gone. You think— she almost looks like your target. 

Huh.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.”

Voice soft prying you know it and you groan, twist, turn, the sand uneven and blood-splattered. 

He’s got that loose hold, hip jutted on a rock arms crossed, too casual for the teething gore surrounding them. Suit torn and eaten at, blood drip-drip-dripping down his arm where the skin is all gone, you keep waiting for them to crawl through the sand and eat you both alive. Maybe you won’t save him this time. 

“Which one?” You ask, and when you look down you’re in the old suit, fitted like an infected wound. You yank at the collar, touch your cheek, your face— you’d covered your face here, hadn’t you? Yes. 

He smiles. Shakes his head. 

He hadn’t let them touch you, even when you collapsed, even when they wanted to help. 

Not that it matters. None of it matters anymore.

“So you do care about my opinion?” 

“No,” you murmur, choking down a gag—dead meat, food for the nanovores, food for the flies, “but that’s never stopped you before.”

“True,” he winks, running through the motions; what you remember, what you want to forget. Oh god you want to forget. You want to peel back this body and dig into the marrow and pull, pull, pull until the memories unravel in streams of violent orange. 

He pushes off the rock, kicks his long legs out and walks too easily for a man that almost got eaten alive five minutes ago. “Walk with me?” He asks the way you don’t ask, you order, and throws his wounded arm over your shoulder, locking you hip to hip, no way out. 

You sink under the weight, slotted to his side like a mismatched puzzle piece. Nothing about you fits, disjointed, dislocated. You’ve been shaped wrong for a long time now. They didn’t put all the parts back right. A doll unstitched and gutted for parts, but they didn’t— did they recycle you? Just medical waste and scars.

“You take me to the nicest places,” you say because it’s the only thing you can say when the sky looks like God wrapped his big meaty fist around it so tightly till it swelled and pinkened. 

Black clouds on the skyline. Here they come. Don’t they know how strong you are now? How many webs you can weave? You crack your knuckles and almost smile.

Then you see: Tía Elena crosses herself in the background. She shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. Why haven’t they evacuated all the civilians?

“Well, you never let me take you anywhere else,” he huffs, ignoring his mother as they walk on by, and that’s not— that’s not right? 

It— no. You don’t want to be here. You can’t do that to him, not even now. 

— 

Fuck that’s good you’re invincible. The reckoning day is coming and when it does you’ll watch out for this one, you’ll remember her, how it felt to sit in her skin and move under it, but she can’t stop you. None of them can stop you now.

You smile and it’s sharp and cruel and silver. You almost almost almost want him to show up but the victory wouldn’t be quite as sweet, and you don’t really want to take a lightning bolt to the chest. Even if it wouldn’t slow you down, it’d still fucking hurt. 

But it doesn’t matter. When you drive your foot into the golden boy’s chest you can feel his ribs crack a little bit and that’s even better. You’ll be riding the high of that for weeks after this. He’s a kicked puppy and you want— you want to kick him again, but there’s no time for that, no time for anything. 

You wonder if Steel recognizes the grin right before you drop her like a body bag.

—

Gasp—jump spin dodge—near miss, fuck—Ortega laughed at the start but he’s not laughing anymore, smoke on the air, electricity crackling over his skin. 

Fire off at its head one two, one miss, one hit. Head jerks, twists.

The thing-beast groans— don’t look at me i’m not here don’t look— “yOu...” guttural ugly it sees you, it sees you.

Run run run don’t touch me— “Noa!” He shouts and you stop drop and roll just in time for a blade to swing down, headsman’s axe, grazing the suit but not quite touching. Space where your body was empty, and it howls rage-snap.

“Mother— fucker!”

This. This you remember.

You remember the way its mind shucked the skin off your bones, all slick-blood drip drip drip. Gory, wrong, wound over wire, dirty fingernails scraping on the myelin, eating eating down down down— you remember: if you let it in it’ll kill you, cut your throat on its twisty edge thoughts as quick as a knife in hand. 

You remember the images in your head— its plans, its ideas, the ways it was going to ply and split him down the middle like a rotten fruit. You couldn’t look at him for weeks. Almost. He was almost.

Almost.

Blink and the scene changes, and backup’s arrived, and you’re holding onto him, your mind pressed up against ITS just enough to make you both disappear. You threw up again and again afterward, but you still couldn’t forget, oil-slick. 

not here we’re not here don’tlookatus

Then: you covered the wound with your own hands. 

Now: you tilt your head to the side, pet his hair. It still doesn’t hurt as bad as the final impact, hitting the ground, or what came next. Suck it up. 

“I told you,” he slurs, eyes half-mast, must be hazy from the blood loss. The human body can only take so much, even with the cutting edge mods. “I know all about that.”

“You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything at all.”

Hand over wound, you push down and he groans. You might as well save him again. You still haven’t had that showdown, and you’re gunning for a win. A dozen to one then, but you’ve gotten better, faster, smarter, your body catching up with your thoughts, and he doesn’t think at all. Doesn’t even matter if he did, you wouldn’t be able to hear it. 

“C’mon, Noa,” that’s not your name, that’s the name he gave you—your name is a mouthful, he’d grinned and you’d rolled your eyes and flushed, but now it sticks like a stove burn—numbers and names and Noa, Noa, no one else has ever gotten close enough to name you— fuck you. “Throw me a bone here.”

“No.”

“Fine.” he gasps, chokes, but the words still spill loose, “but you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.” He says, sounding so fucking reasonable while he’s bleeding out on your lap, and now you definitely have to save him, now you definitely have to make sure he lives, just so you can level him for that alone. Just wait, a feeling builds up in your chest, his day is coming and it’s coming fast.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t hate you for.” You want to snarl, a fighting dog, a dog fit for the ring, but it comes out weak, threadbare, and you hate the way your hands shake, the way your throat hardens up and each word is estranged from your mouth.

“At least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Why?” Is that your voice? Small and weak, a child learning to make a fist, thumb tucked in. But you were never a child. You were never small.

“You know me,” he punches out a laugh and it breaks like a sob, “I love a challenge.”

“This isn’t a challenge, Ricardo. There’s just nothing left.”

—

He.

“November?”

He is.

“I thought you were dead—”

Older. Different. That feels wrong, wrong. He should be the same he can’t have changed that much. Fuck that moustache is ridiculous. He looks so heavy with grief, or is that just you, reflected back? A labyrinth of static. 

It’s all blurry and too much, not enough, but maybe— for a moment— for a moment everything shatters, fingers under a suture, and maybe— it’s just a flash of his eyes, real and in front of you and not blurred by a late night show or security footage fight you only watched to make sure he still leads with his left sucker punch with his right and maybe— 

“Are you still a telepath?”

You say yes and feel like a fool and you tell him a dash of the truth and you feel like a wound and you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.

Your hands are shaking. You make a fist. 

He wants— he wants something.

A raw crack down your spine and you smile and it feels wrong. Maybe it looks wrong. He won’t stop watching you like you’ll disappear if he blinks more than once, if he looks away, and maybe you will. Maybe you’re just ash and graveyard dirt held together with sutures and wire. 

You want to crawl through the floor to someplace small and dark and cold where no one will ever find you again.

You tell him just enough, just enough to keep on hating him. 

It’ll be easier that way.

—

Rewind.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.” He cackles as you thrust out a punch—miss—and dodge his return, feet sliding on the mat. You can’t believe you let him talk you into this, a friendly spar on Ranger soil.

“Which one?” Thrust dodge lock your ankle around his own, slipping up letting you get close like that, rookie mistake— twist of your hip— throw! and the satisfying slap of skin on the mat, his skin, his body hitting the ground, but he holds hard and pulls you down with him (if you go i go) and you land— oof! breathless and grinning and on top, finally, finally.

Fingers lock and you shift, thighs on either side, pin him down, his emitters humming biting pinching but you got him, and you aren’t letting go. A shiver skip-dances down your spine, static-charged.

“I win,” you growl, a winner’s grin biting into your cheeks, free and loose (where’s your mask?)

He squeezes your hand, sends a low-grade jolt up your palms sharp, just to see what you’ll do, jellyfish stings, and you squeeze back harder, lean down till you can feel his breath hot on your lips. You never got this close before, he’s so solid beneath you.

Ricardo, grinning back, a halo of black curls fanned out, sticking to his brow all slick with sweat, “what is that, a dozen to one?”

“Shut up,” he can’t take this from you, not yet, “don’t be a sore loser.”

“Actually, I’m enjoying myself quite a bit right now. I should let you win more often.”

“Fuck you,” but it tears out a laugh far too sweet for your mouth. You feel segmented and gentle, like a scorpion smashed on a rock left out to rot in the sun. Maybe he’ll take you home, run his fingers through your matted hair and not mind the stingers or the venom. You weren’t made for a laughter light like this, and if there was ever a time you could be it’s long gone now, but you still want him to touch you, a want like a scar healed wrong.

“Buy me dinner first— ah!” You let go just to crack your palm against the top of his head, anything to wipe that smug edge off, and— “okay, fine, I’ll buy dinner,” but this time when your hand comes down he catches it, brings it to his lips, soft on your palm— oh god, oh god it hurts. 

“And then what?” You dare, you gasp, you’ve never been that bold—couldn’t afford boldness, always a coward at heart and that’s how he always won, but for a moment you let your fingers curl along his cheekbone. His eyes slide closed, kissing still—dart of tongue, tracing the line of your palm. How long is my life? How many children will I have? What do the cracks in the skin say? Maybe his mouth can divine something human in the shape of your hand, even if the lines there aren’t really yours, just a thing they gave you to play pretend.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, still not giving you his gaze, a pained crush to his brow, “you did ask me to take you somewhere nice.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t you remember?” 

“Liar. I never asked you to do anything.”

He smiles right on your skin, like a knife sliding under your gut—girl/deer, splayed out on the slaughterhouse floor of his kindness. The world hazes at the edges, curling up set aflame. 

Somewhere nice. Too bad it can’t last. 

Finally. Finally he looks at you. Sees you. How long has it been since someone hasn’t stared through?

“No, you didn’t. I wish you would have.”

—

Choking hard gasp and the phone screams or maybe you do. Your teeth throb.

The room is heavy dark save for the corners of curtained sunlight peeking through, the air scented thickly of cheap candles and candy wrappers. The sheets are sweat-slick and you can smell your own skin, the rawness of sleep on it. Musky. Unsterilized. 

The fabric sticks and itches. Fingers under the hem, you toss the sweater aside, hear it thump damply against a wall.

Breathe. Hand to chest and yes, that’s your heart, rocking in your rib cage, slowing down. You breathe with in—ten—tion. 

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Okay, you’re okay. You can do this. You can still do this.

—

“I don’t want to do this here.”

He holds out a plate of food, tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Pushes the plate into your hands, and you take it—just hold out something to someone and nine times out of ten they’ll take it without thinking, asking only after they’ve agreed to carry the burden.  

Silly you, you never had a choice. 

His apartment is soft and safe around the edges, and your heart gets sticky in your chest. You think maybe those are your books on his shelf, the ones you lost after—

“What’s wrong with here?” He shrugs, brushing past toward the table, beckoning you to follow with a grin and a nudge.

“I like it here.” You answer honestly, for once, and he beams, a light bright enough to burn.

“I know.”

“So why are you ruining it?”

“Ruining it?” Hurt. Smile gone.

“Take me somewhere else. Anywhere else.” Somewhere cruel and sharp as a scalpel to the throat. Psychopather or Overlord or the dilapidated construction ruin you jumped out of at the second story and broke your wrist because you made a deal— you agreed to a dare— race you to the bottom down the stairs— if you lose you have to answer my questions— and god, you didn’t want to answer anything, anything at all, and he’d screamed your name, cursed you out, told you don’t be an idiot what if you broke your neck and flinched when you snapped I was just following your lead. 

“I can’t,” he shakes his head and you have to sit down, set the plate on the table before you drop it, wouldn’t want to break the fine china. Did his mother give him this? You think so; he’d taken such care, stacking each plate freshly hand washed before putting them away.

“Liar.”

“Not this time,” a loaded smile, a loaded gun, his fork twirls around on his plate. Shadow of a wrist and a vague gesture to the seams of the scenery. “This is all you. Your shape. What you made. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Then I’m not staying.”

Shrug again. Why won’t he do anything else? A looped tape, a slight glitch. Something’s wrong.

You’re wrong, maybe.

“Not even for dinner?”

You stand up. Pace. There are plans— things to be done— finishing touches— you can’t stay here. You can’t. 

“What do you want, Noa?” He asks, so softly, so gently, it would be kinder if he killed you there, but you know he won’t; it’ll take a lot more than bad table manners to push him to that, but maybe you can do it. Maybe you can get him a little ruthless, even more desperate. You’ve seen it before, in flashes, coiling green under his skin. Won’t it be funny if he breaks before you do? No blood on your hands, not yet. What a record. Fitting, almost. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Are you hungry?”

“Why?”

“Hard to work on an empty stomach,” he shrugs again, fuck, stop doing that. Bare feet silent on the carpet and you find yourself back at the table, back in the chair, sitting across from him and there’s nowhere to go—

Blink.

Sterile antiseptic white walls and doctors— in your apartment— your neighbor? Yes, that’s your neighbor he accused you of staring once, the fuck are you lookin’ at? And you weren’t staring, at least not like that, but it took a soft nudge of don’t look at me for him to go all the same. Strange. You didn’t think a doctor would live here. It’s a bad side of town, but it’s good for sidestepping. 

You think: I am going to wake up now.

Wait. No. You say this out loud. It comes through with the wet ache of drowning. 

No. Wait. Your words roll back down your throat—you didn’t say it. You didn’t say anything at all. You never have. 

All the words roll in but they’re not yours you’re fit to burst. 

It must be nice being able to speak. 

Not here.

Maybe that’s what it is to be human. 

Get real, you think because you stick your fingers in a few skulls and cut your teeth on some gray matter while someone thinks about love you know what being human is? 

I could. I could know.

They gave you a tongue and mouth and lips but you can’t kiss and you can’t make words, you can only patch together the syntax, call it real, call it human—but when you speak it’s always going to be with someone else’s voice, strangled out.

The walls are whiter now and the lights slice your skin like a hot knife through butter. It isn’t a cliff but a door you’ve already walked through and the ocean inside the warehouse inside the apartment is now a table with handcuffs. His table. Her table. You jerk your wrists and the metal clanks hard and fuck no not here not here please take me back i’m sorry i want to go back—

(he’s coming to get you)

(he wouldn’t leave you here)

(no time for the dramatics ricardo just get the door let’s blow this popsicle stand)

She smiles at you from across that metal table (wait) and tells you that you are never going to die (stop) because to die you have to be alive (i am i am i?) and you should know better by now we are going to do such great things together (please)

aren’t we, 

aren’t we, 

aren’t we.

aren’t i?

wake up now- i want to— please. 

—

You’re alone in the dark, the armor fits perfectly, and that’s all that matters.

(when you become a casualty revoked from the grave get ready a revenant coming back to eat them alive oh oh oh just you wait) 

You think you’ll keep the name.

(sidestep and charge reunited again you can see the headlines now and fuck you can’t wait to see the look on his face you were always a pair maybe he’ll stop you wouldn’t that be something)

You don’t sleep.

— 

He doesn’t stop you. 

—

“Noa?”

“Yes?”

“You are... fine, right?”

 “What are you talking about?”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

“Of course I would.”

—

Your dreams are filmy, cracked wombs of (not not not) memories and gummy tissue. Press on it too hard and it moves back just the same but with a muscle deep ache. At least you know it’s a dream this time, and when you go up the stairs and find him there, you don’t hiss or spit or curse. You’ve done enough of that. He’ll carry the scars to prove it.

He’s looking out the window. He’s looking at you.

No, he’s looking at you. You flinch and you don’t know why.

“Really? Even here?”

“What?”

“Take the mask off at least. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen your pretty face.”

You reach up and your fingers find hard armor, not supple skinsuit. When you look back his face is different, older, not the poster-ready Marshal but aged, aching, and you ache with it, bone-deep. 

You’re so tired. You wonder if he is too.

The helmet comes off. Drops with a thump. 

You go to the window. After all, there’s nowhere else left, and he asked so nicely.

“What do we do now?” You ask, so softly. Still can’t look outside. Still don’t want to see what he sees. Better to watch him watch you. Now that you’re on the other side of things, you prefer it when you’re the one doing the bleeding—what a thing.

“I don’t know,” a laugh a sob or something in between, he crosses his arms and turns away, turns toward you. “Did you ever figure out what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You blink and he’s himself again, younger, more angular, a grin fit for the big screen on his handsome, handsome face. It’s easier to talk to him like this, the way you remember, the way it should be. Time didn’t move while you were gone, and you’re the only one still snapped in half.

A pause. Are you smiling now? It must be a sad little thing though, because his eyes soften up and a frown mars his forehead.

“I want to watch you grow old.” 

“What, so you can keep on teasing me? That never stopped you before.”

“Shut up, I’m not done yet.” you whisper, stepping forward, stepping up to the cliff’s edge.

“I want to watch you grow old,” reaching for his hand, and he lets you have them both, cradled so carefully—and your gloves are black and armored and insulated, but not the most protected part of your body. Could he kill you with a surge? Maybe. “And I want to watch you die in a bed. Your bed.”

“A little morbid,” he murmurs but you’ve got to keep going, you’ve got to get it out, because once it’s out you’ll never have to look at it again. “But I guess that tracks.”

Turn over his hands, you thumb at his emitters. Hint of a spark, and you laugh and now it’s sob, now it’s a wound. You won’t look at him. “I want to watch the arthritis take your hands and I want to take you away from this fucking city and we’ll both be so bored out of our minds, we’ll start inventing problems just to fix them.”

“Careful, Noa,” hands turn over, running up your armored wrists, grasping at your forearms. “That almost sounds like a happy ending.”

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. You don’t have one now.

“And we can’t have that.”

You look up. The sun’s on his face now, turning his eyes a shade of deep whiskey, and that’s how you want to remember him; alive under the sun, smile lines just forming, his nose a bit crooked from getting punched one too many times. You’ll be on the ground in a moment.

“No,” he agrees, grasping at your elbows now, pulling you close, and you cling to his in turn. “We can’t.” Flash and grin, and there he is, just like you remember. Challenging, challenger. No chance, and neither of you know when to quit. “Want to up the stakes a bit?” 

“Always.”

You let go first. Of course. You turn to the window. You open it. 

“Whoever falls fastest wins.”

“And what do I get when I win?” When, not if.

“A quick and painless death.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “That’s a hell of a thing. How do I know you won’t cheat?”

“You don’t,” he winks, steps back, head tilt toward the window. Mirrored. You’ve got one hand on the windowsill and one hand curled around your gut, where he sunk that barb between the plates before you cracked his skull on the ground before all of Los Diablos. “You never do. Isn’t that part of the fun?”

You take your place at the window, you set your shoulders, look down. What’s he been looking at all this time? 

Long way down, and you wait to see her; you, in soft skinsuit, teal and black and bloody and broken, but she isn’t there.

Just an ambulance, an end repeating itself.

“Person who falls the fastest, huh?”

“And hits the ground hardest.”

You climb up, clench your jaw. 

It always ends like this. 

“You’re on.”

#chargestep #fhr #mywriting #okay-- I have not slept. and that is indeed a problem. and this should probably get more than a cursory glance-over. alas. #there's running themes in here somewhere- I swear- but until then I'm going to sleep #ricardo strictly through noa's twisted memories and flawed perceptions and rage up until she finds him again - because yeah #(is it ortega? good question. she doesn't know either. but your (not) lover-slash-rival haunting your memories and dreams.. mhm.)

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

come on in, folks, i got some kind of goof ass Beetlejuice/Evil Dead crossover for you to enjoy.

He’s eighteen, and it’s Saturday, which means that he and Lydia are wandering around Manhattan, looking for trouble to get into. Lydia, eleven and ever his little shadow, is standing next to him, as they take a moment, on the busy New York street corner, to sip their boba and think about their next move. They were meant to be watching some horror movie that had looked alright from the previews, but ended up being so stupid, it wasn’t even fun, and the Deetz siblings had found themselves walking out, one hour poorer but a bucket of overly butter saturated movie popcorn richer. “I still can’t believe how bad that was,” Lydia says, again, huffing, because they’d actually paid money to see that stinker, instead of sneaking in, which is their usual habit. “Ya get one big name attached an’ everyone apparently stops givin’ a shit. Musta figured th’ droolin’ masses would eat it up,” he agrees, and he slurps up the last of his tapioca balls, and then proceeds to eat the plastic straw. “Is it too much to ask that characters actually be interesting, and, I don’t know, behave like normal human people?” Lyds bitches, as BJ takes a bite out of his cup, too. She glances up at him, dryly. “I mean, I guess maybe my standards for normality are low, but still.”

He grins at her. “Whatever could you possibly mean, sister dearest?” he puts on a posh, almost transatlantic accent, and she rolls her eyes, and sucks boba up in her straw, then shoots the pearls at him like a pea shooter. He snorts and laughs.

It’s a good day, despite the letdown at the movies. It’s nearly that time of year, just about the start of his seasonal depression, as the sun becomes shy and things go cold and gray. Still, there’s some time left with the sunshine, so he’s drinking it up, savoring it, and it feels good, to stand here with Lyds, and talk about nothing. “Alright, come on, let’s second act it,” he grins, and she perks up. “I think Wicked’s playing!” “Wicked’s always playin’.” “Well, I’m not sitting through Hamilton, it’s a Saturday. I’m not learning if I don’t have to.” “Totally fuckin’ fair. Music Man, maybe?” “Hugh Jackman’s weirdly brick shaped head freaks me out.” “There’s gotta be a show we can sneak into,” BJ frowns, scratching at the scruff of his chin, and then he catches a scent he’s never smelled before, as Lydia puzzles through their remaining options. It’s like death, sort of, but not. Like death warmed over, or death, refried. He takes his sister’s hand, and leads her away from the street corner, following the smell, nose in the air, pupils blown wide, and Lydia laughs. “Great, time to go poke a dead thing. That’s more fun than The Last Four Years, at least.” She’s seen him go like this before, and thinks she knows what to expect.

Neither of them know how to react when they follow the scent down an alleyway and see the violent fight happening in front of them.

Parked at the far end of the alleyway is a car, some 70’s make that he doesn’t know enough about such things to name, and between it, and the Deetz siblings, is an one handed man absolutely going feral on a group of three refried dead smelling zombie… things. “Deadly-vu,” he hears Lydia whisper, as they watch the man perform a scissor kick that sends a zombie head flying. It bounces like a basketball against the brick wall that makes the alleyway, rolls, and lands at the Deetz sibling’s feet. There’s a beat, as they stare at it, and it stares back, before the head on the ground opens its mouth and speaks. “DEMON!” it shrieks, and then it makes the life ending choice to roll at Lydia, teeth bared, and his boot is going through it, crushing through the skull like an overly juicy bug under his heel. He takes a second to wipe the gore from his sole onto the pavement. “Maybe Wicked could be good,” he turns and says to Lydia, who responds by ducking behind him, because the body the head formerly belonged to seems to be stumbling at them, clutching something in it’s boiled and infected and puss covered arms, and it thrusts the thing at BJ, before falling down and collapsing into dust. It’s a book. Some kind of creepy old demon book, from the look of it. He wrinkles his nose in vague disgust, and then takes a sniff. If the zombie things are refried death, this thing is a whole fucking Mexican food buffet of it, and it makes his head spin in a way he’s never felt before. He kind of likes it. He’s about to give the cursed reading material a tentative lick before a boom rings out from in front of them- the one handed man has pulled a sawed off shotgun off his back, and dispatched another corpse thing. There’s one left, and it’s circling the man, who by this point is so blood covered, he looks like he was tricked into being prom queen, or something.

“Is it just me, or do you freaks just keep gettin’ uglier?” the man quips, and the corpse lunges, a stumbling move which earns it the butt of the shotgun to the jaw, which goes flying. The zombie is shot through the gut, and drops, but is a twitching, squirming mess. BJ’s seen enough horror movies to know that thing is getting back up. The stranger has apparently, too. He takes a moment to reload the shotgun, then double taps, blowing clean through the thing’s skull. He blows at the slightly smoking barrels of his sawed off, twirls it, and holsters it, re-slipping it onto his back. It’s a pretty cool move, actually, and the siblings watch in rapt attention. It takes the three remaining people (well, two people, one demon,) in the alley a moment to actually focus on each other, and there’s silence, before the stranger speaks. “Uh,” says the man, covered in blood, and Lydia peaks out from behind BJ, and stares at him, with big eyes. “Kids,” he hears the man mutter. “Great, just what I need, a coupla kids, gettin’ in my way.. Hey, kiddies,” he says, louder, with a smile, which might be really charming when he’s not soaked in rot and blood, but the effect at the moment is not as sincere and friendly as he clearly thinks it is. “Looks like you two little heroes managed to wrangle my book away from those deadites. You wanna do your pal Ash a favor, and hand it over?” He makes a “come here” motion with his stump arm, and then seems to realize that’s not so appealing, because he tucks that appendage behind his back, worried, suddenly, about scaring them. As if a man with a missing hand is the weirdest thing they've seen in the last five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Lydia says, and BJ can’t help but agree with that sentiment. Also, he feels a vague sense of sudden responsibility for this weird old tome. It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing a human should have. Maybe those zombies… deadites? Maybe they were trying to get back what was stolen from them. Though he’s not charitable enough to assume that they’re the good guys in this feud. The stranger, Ash, takes a careful step forward. “It’s alright,” he says, like he’s talking to a wild animal he’s trying to tame, and not a teen and preteen, respectively. “I’m not gonna hurtcha. Just need to get my book back.”

A sudden screeching wind roars down the alleyway, and both living humans react, ducking, as it bellows and swirls around them, kicking up dust and trash and chunks of leftover deadite. “Demon! Aid us!” BJ feels a presence in front of his face, something he can’t see, but a great, ancient something, reaching out to him, demanding, begging, pleading, for him to assist in whatever macabre goal it wants to meet. He responds by sticking his unglamoured tongue out at it. “Ewww, gross. No.”

The thing shrieks again, and makes a beeline for Lydia, which is just about the stupidest thing it could have done, because he drops his glamour fully and snarls, gives the ancient being a psychic push back, and he sends the thing that cannot be seen flying, out of the shady darkness of this alleyway, past what he assumes to be Ash’s car, and out onto the city street, into the sun. It shrieks and moans and curses him. He flips it off, as it dissipates. The vibe in the air, however, tells him it’s not “dead,” just gone.

Ash straightens up and looks at him. BJ’s already slipped his human disguise back on, so the effect is that Ash has just seen what seems to be a slightly too pale and definitely overweight human teen somehow push back an ancient evil, totally unaffected. Now it’s his turn to let out a confused, “What the fuck?”

“Come on, BJ!” Lydia grabs her big brother’s arm and pulls him away, running from the gore and the confused zombie slayer. “Wait, kids-!” Ash rounds the corner, after them, but the Deetz siblings are already gone, disappeared into thin air, flash stepping the span of blocks in the blink of an eye, and they don’t stop until Lydia, sick from the teleportation, gives his hand a squeeze. They appear on a rooftop, confusing and traumatizing some pigeons that had been roosting.

“Wait, why did we run?’ BJ asks, and Lydia looks at him like he’s a moron. “Because that guy was clearly a monster hunter! And kind of really good at it!” she says. He mulls that over, and smiles. “Worried for your big bro?” he bats his eyelashes at her, and she responds by slugging him in the gut, which he reacts the barest amount to. “Last thing I want is to explain to mom and dad how you ended up with a shotgun blast through your skull,” she says, and crosses her arms, before leaning forward, to study the book he’s still holding. “So. What is that?” He grins. “Wanna open it an’ find out?” Read the rest of the first chapter here!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice au #bj deetz au #ashley williams #ash williams #evil dead fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #charles deetz #my writing

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ VAN HELSING / S02E06 + S02E07 + S02E08 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'you were so close, and you didn't even know it.'

'that must have been one hell of a dream.'

'i wouldn't drink that water. no telling how long that corpse has been rotting in it.'

'a feeling. like a ghost walking over a grave.'

'death would have been easier than this.'

'listen, i messed up. okay? i own that.'

'no, i need you to hear me on this. i don't want anything from you. your forgiveness, your pity. you can go on hating me if that's what you wanna do.'

'you have no idea what it's like to watch someone you love die in your arms because of something you did.'

'don't make me hurt you.'

'you have not seen what i have seen. you have not suffered the pain i have.'

'between life, death and revenge, which would you pick?'

'here, put some pressure on that.'

'i used to box back in the day - pretty good, too.'

'i'm a cloud with no silver lining. deal with it.'

'if you break out into 'here comes the sun' i'm gonna leave your ass behind.'

'well, consider me confused.'

'what're you doing back in this joint?'

'where did you learn to fight like that?'

'everybody thought we were crazy, you know?'

'dad staged our deaths when i was 15 years old.'

'well, it's... you're not really that comfortable with the living. you know, like, talking and bring friendly.'

'wouldn't that be ironic if you died of blood poisoning?'

'i just... always hated those things.'

'look, it's-- it's not that funny.'

'it's not. it's not funny. it's not funny. (laughing)'

'it's either that or we're gonna have to amputate eventually, so...'

'i was just, you know, a pretty sickly kid growing up. doctors used to stick me with needles all the time.'

'i was like a human pin cushion.'

'don't touch me. i will break your arm, i swear to god.'

'did you ever consider that maybe this is a trap?'

'i trust you're going to be a good boy this time.'

'meaningless threats are beneath you.'

'guilt is not in your blood.'

'you're like a cockroach. disgusting and impossible to kill.'

'long thought dead yet here she stands, resurrected.'

'i'll just ask them to leave nicely.'

'hey, don't touch my shit again.'

'oh, your arrogance astounds.'

'who the hell's gonna steal a rolling fortress without any gas?'

'don't you die on me, you son of a bitch.'

'check his pulse.'

'there's nothing you wouldn't do for a friend.'

'i'm not gonna keep on driving if we don't know where we're going.'

'sometimes in moments of grief people manifest things.'

'you buried me? that took you, like, three minutes?'

'i can see where you got your sparkling personality from.'

'it's always the quiet ones.'

'i need to stretch my legs, i think.'

'if you wanted another kiss you coulda just asked.'

'yeah, except for the cracked rib on the way down.'

'careful with that stuff.'

'ok, look. i just gotta take a piss.'

'i think i liked it better in that hole.'

#KIND / IN CHARACTER. #KIND / SENTENCE. #BASED ON / TV SHOW. #queue.

[spooky-activity]

Just a little update on Cassandratopia 2: Electric Boogaloo (Or as it stands in my Google Docs folder rn, A Helping Hand). I’ll put it under the cut cuz it’s kinda long. 

I just wanted to say that I’m still planning on actually doing it, despite all evidence to the contrary lol 

I did Cassandratopia in a haze of graduating from college(where I was studying animation) and just having ended my first dnd campaign as a dungeon master (which went 3 years!). I was fishing around for internships, but since the pandemic had just kicked off I wasn’t having much luck. So I had a lot of creative energy that wasn’t getting channeled anywhere, and a lot of free time when I wasn’t applying to places. Which is how I did 4 pages a day several times per week. Which was insane. 

As it stands, I’m running 2 dnd campaigns(one meets weekly, the other every other week or so), and just scored a full-time internship at a video game company! The campaigns I’m running are a homebrew open world, which, for those of you who aren’t too familiar with dnd, is a metric fuckton of work to prep for each session because I have no idea what my insane friends and siblings are going to try and do every time we play. 

Anyways all this to say that my storytelling itch is kinda. Sufficiently getting scratched atm and I have a lot less free time. I’m still plucking away at the setting/refining the story of A Helping Hand, but it’s largely on the backburner. Cassandratopia was also, uh, like the first story I’ve ever told in any sort of format besides the give-and-take of dnd, so... I’m not used to having so much control over the narrative. Oddly. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer of stories; my main focus is character animation, so someone else is usually writing the stories I’m telling anyways, which is super cool with me. Honestly I’m surprising myself with how much I want to tell this story, which is why I’m still sure I’m doing it. Just. Slower. Than Cassandratopia got done. 

But I’ll share a bit of the lore I’ve been cooking up! Specifically about Zhan Tiri and The Drops. The story will be told in an extremely dnd type setting, because that’s the kind of narrative I’ve told before and am comfortable telling: hard magic rules, neat fights, scary monsters, a dash of eldritch horror, and huge emphasis being put on magical artifacts(kinda like in the show!). Here’s some stuff that’s basically locked-in. 

Zhan Tiri

Zhan Tiri is one of the many Demon Lords of the Abyss. She’s kind of a mashup of two of my favorite Demon Lords, Zuggtmoy, the Lady of Rot and Decay, and Pale Night, the Mother of Demons and Queen of the Night(with just a dash of Hannibal Lecter because who doesn’t like helpful, polite, manipulative-ass bitches lksjflkja;fj). Her domain sits almost exactly between the Sundrop and Moonstone, largely being the new growth that comes from death, and the endless cycle of life and death. Places where her influence is strongest includes the cracks in... Well anywhere really, from society to the planet’s shell, where metaphorical or physical rot could grow; musty, mostly ignored places where something could fester. Iconography related to her would include endless mazes, fungi, grasping skeletal hands, and rotting/blooming corpses. Her spores can animate corpses, which she likes to use as mindless minions when she doesn’t feel like sending one of her Acolytes. She shares a scrap of her power with those few mortals she likes. She appreciates ambition and the desire to Grow to be bigger than what you were to start with, as those are qualities she herself possesses. 

Incredibly intelligent and merciless to those she deems her enemies, her main thing is pulling the strings from the shadows and seeing just how far she can push people to act with as little prompting from her as possible. She does, however, have the power to kinda bulldoze her way through things if she needs to, but she doesn’t like to because where’s the fun in that? 

She first gained interest in the Material Plane when a Wizard with too much hubris from said Material Plane(Named Demanitus) contacted her trying to figure out more information about The Drops and how to control them. After indulging him for a bit, she started preparing to make a summer home on the Material Plane because it’s New and Fun here and Wow These Mortals are Really Fun to Mess With! And some of them she even genuinely liked! Demanitus then realized his mistake and locked her away in Pandemonium for what he hoped was forever, but turned out to be only around 1,000 years, due to the efforts of her followers. Her little stint in Pandemonium magnified the more... Chaotic aspects of her personality, so now she wants to cover the Material Plane in blooming mazes of fungal crops that she can break people with at her leisure. 

The Drops

The drops are two semi-sentient pieces of one original artifact, whose original purpose was to be a tool of creation for the gods. Which, through some great calamity(still deciding that one), got sundered and settled into the two basic aspects of creation: the nearly unlimited well of life-energy which organizes stardust into planets, cabbages, and kings, and the “you gotta crack a few eggs to get an omlette” destructive force which breaks down what the sundrop makes so that it can make more. 

The main goal of the drops is to reunite. I would want to as well if I was ripped in half! This manifests as a... General tug in the direction of the other drop. A desire in the host to Go That Way. It can be resisted, and even ignored for a bit, but it’s always there. Like being hungry if starving wasn’t a danger. Just a bit uncomfortable if you aren’t going That Way, but ignorable. 

Both drops generally try to be as helpful to their wielder as possible, as originally they were a tool of creation to the gods. They are innately obliging. They’re also REALLY UNSAFE FOR MORTALS TO BE MESSING WITH. The Sundrop is a little safer because the most it can do is kinda. Overcharge you into something distinctly not human but still alive, and King Fredrick was lucky he made the Sundrop into soup before giving it to Arianna. But King Edmund got his wholeass arm blasted off for touching the Moonstone. 

The Sundrop

Best I could whittle it down, the Sundrop has power over life energy, like the sun’s light. It also has power over the energy derived from geothermal activities, so deep sea creatures Are Not Immune To The Sundrop, which was a funny thought that crossed my mind that they could be, but that will likely never come up anyways salkdjf;ljsf It is, in its basest form, Growth and Progress. 

It’s a little sentient, but very much entrenches itself into whoever is holding it at the time. Like another mind looking through your eyes and seeing what you see/feeling what you feel while still retaining a bit of individuality from the host. It’s not... Parasitic because it’s in its nature to give, but it’s generally pretty firmly attached to whoever is holding it until they die( which isn’t usually for a WHILE. It ’infects’ a new host when one dies, usually a plant near their grave...) or until a solar eclipse. It wants what they want, but it’s very fussy so they have to ask it for power exactly correctly(like singing an incantation every time you want to heal someone, or doing a Ritual involving lots of very specific ingredients, Celestial Alignments, and Secret Words) or it won’t listen, like an orchid dying if the ph balance is off in the soil by a little bit. But it’s generally pretty intuitive to use, because it wants what you want and (as long as you ask right) is willing to help. 

Anyways basically under the influence of the Sundrop you get a few things: 

Basically limitless energy coursing through your body while you’re in a place with sunlight, which equates to rapid healing, mostly, because every cell in your body is being supercharged with free energy. Never getting exhausted in direct sunlight. (If Rapunzel lived in a place that was sunny 24/7 like near one of the poles she wouldn’t have to sleep like. until it started to get dark in the opposite half of the year. Then she’d have to sleep like a regular human being)

You stay at your prime, or if you are past it, revert to your prime. Someone who is holding the Sundrop, or who has regular access to the Sundrop’s magic can’t die of old age or illness. They have to be hurt beyond the Sundrop’s ability to heal or have it taken away from them. 

The ability to share this rapid healing with others (if you ask right)

The ability to freely draw on the raw, near-limitless energy of the sun to shape into things like cool-looking energy blasts (only if you ask right) 

The Moonstone

The moonstone has powers over varying levels of destruction: from destroying things by ripping them apart/ to Not Letting Things Be Destroyed(also known as protecting) by freezing them in indestructible rock. Like the moon, it can ‘reflect’ a bit of the sundrop’s power, so it can kinda provide energy, albeit a lot less than the sundrop can provide. It’s the inevitable march of The End of All Things, fertilizing the fields of time with the ashes of the old so the new can take root. 

The Moonstone is a bit more in the dark(pun intended hehe) when it comes to bonding with someone, it can only try to figure out what is going on based off the emotions of its wielder, and through anything directly touching the Black Rocks. Because of this it’s... Kinda dumb? It tries to do things to help(Like shooting red fear-rocks to try and scare away whatever must be scaring its wielder so badly) but often fails spectacularly at helping. 

Under the influence of the Moonstone you get: 

Mortals get Neat Body Armor that’s actually just you being turned into a rock! They are very fragile! They need to be protected! The best the Moonstone can do to try and preserve you is to Stop All Destruction by.. Pausing all bodily functions indefinitely. Rocks don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, and almost nothing can destroy you if you’re solid Black Rock. The weak reflection of the Sundrop’s energy keeps the host animated, but they’re not exactly alive anymore. Like cryostasis. Wounds (if any) acquired in this state won’t be a problem because they’re not messing anything up, because nothing is technically working in the first place, but they will be a problem when you’re not protected in this way anymore. It’s a cosmic ‘I’ll deal with that later’ button, essentially. 

Like the moon, the Moonstone can reflect the light of the sun. It uses its rock crystals to do so, which can even split the sun’s power into different shades, like a prism. Essentially, different colored rocks can mean new and exciting power sets. 

Blue Lightning! The Moonstone can reflect the Sundrop’s power, so it also has access to pure bursts of energy, even if it is weaker and colder. 

The Moonstone is very helpful, but usually has no idea what you want. ‘Asking’ the Moonstone for more control over its power in the same way you would Ask the Sundrop for more power reminds it of the perfect bond it used to share. The Moonstone’s incantation deepens the bond between wielder and Moonstone in such a way that it actually knows what you want from it, giving you near perfect control of its powers.

*This is kind of just a side note of the Drops: While the Moonstone is weaker than the Sundrop in an head-on fight, it could hold its own if it were on the defensive. Redirecting the power instead of trying to overpower and such.

** Cass made of rocks means I get to draw her skeleton :) not in every picture that would be fucking nuts and way too much work alskjdf;lkjs;fv

#helping hand #a helping hand #casstopia #cassandratopia 2 #mine #so yeah next comic is happening still #but I can't promise when #maybe in like 6 months when one of my dnd games wraps up #my siblings are the ones who play weekly #and I said i'd run a shorter campaign for them #like half a year campaign #then I'll only be running one game! #and I'll have time to draw comic stuff and finish finalizing my draft #I'd also like to apologize in advance for my clunky storytelling #I've literally never done this before lakjs;dlkcvj;lksjf

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 46

Along the edge of the mountain set west of town, Junji follows the scent they had secured from the zombie they manage to corner; the others closely following the dragon boy as they ascend up towards the peek. “So that’s seriously the guy’s whole story. The prince of a kingdom attacked by the undead and resurrected to wander the Earth forever.” Mally summarizes. “Shit, sounds like the guy’s been through hell and back. Fucking literally maybe.” Vivi comments. “Truly. Though there are some details that still elude me of our dear blade wielding prince. Korubo had claimed that the witch’s curse binds him to this mortal coil of ours. Such a lyric causes me to ponder what purpose our culprit had for him all those centuries ago.” “Yeah. All of it sounds pretty puzzling. And the name. Korubo. Felt like I heard it somewhere before.” the orange skater claims. “Have you? Are you certain you’re not misremembering?” the ghostly teen questions. “Honestly, I’m not really that sure.” “Yo guys.” the dragon teen before them grabs their attention with, the three peering to their lead having stopped before the end of a clearing. “Think you might wanna see this.”

The rest of them team catches up with Junji to share in the site of the clearing, all three of them left utterly astonished when beholding the messy and gory site set before them. Littering the mountain clearing laid dozens upon dozens of severed rotting body parts and innards strewn about the once serene and calming fields; some of the sliced and severed limbs left behind still squirming like worms. All the liters of old crimson they leave behind paints the grassy blanket in a harrowing shade of scarlet. “Seems like our favorite undead Samurai was pretty busy.”

Mally steps out into the clearing much to her friends cautious worry, drawn out into the once hectic and brutal battlefield by the scent of raw iron that permeates the cool night air. “Mal?” Vivian utters, watching the orange skater wander off across the red stained fields. “Blood.” Mally ventures past the wriggling body parts and pulsing spilled innards to stop before a sizable pool of crimson red; the scarlet puddle thick enough to leave a reflection of the waning moonlight above. The orange girl kneels down to the pool set before her very feet and runs her two fingers across the surface of crimson; the young skater lifting those fingers to her face to behold the blood covering her fingertips. “So much of it spilled. You still got the scent Junji?” “All that and more.” the dragon boy claims with hints of disgust. “Good. Shall we move then, captain?” “Uh...y-yes, lets.” Damian stutters as the three of the come out from the bushes; veering away from the numerous rotting corpses that litter the battle field.

From this field of bloody battles once fought does the dragon’s acute sense of smell cease to lead them up towards the peak; rather, they start to make their way back down towards the other side of the mountain. “So let me try and figure this out. Those zombie’s this bitch’s been sending into town came from the other side, climbed up halfway up this rock and went back down. The fuck is with that shit!?” Vivi curses out. “My best guess is that the necromancer leads her minions through this specific route to try and throw trackers off their trail. Perhaps for some canine noses, it would be enough. This entire mountain is practically blanketed in the stench of death. Thankfully for us, a dragon’s nose is said to be a 1000 times stronger than even a bloodhound.” “Thankful my ass. God, feel like I’m not gonna get the smell of dead bodies out of my nose for weeks on end. Feel like I’m dying myself over here.” Junji responds. “Keep it up, man. Once we get done with this, we’ll pick out all the scented candles and Fabreeze you can sniff.” Mal promises. “Ya meeen it!” “I meeen it!”

Let this end.

A soft growl slips out from between the skull girl’s teeth as she rubs her temple, the orange girl walking along the other side of their ghostly leader glancing to her with worry in her eyes. “You feelin alright there, Viv?” the skater asks. Despite only peering back for but a single moment, Vivian swiftly peers away from the young lass left worried over her; finally responding with: “Yeah. Fine.” Between the two of them does their ghostly leader place two fingers up against his lips as she watches this drama unfold. “I-is this about what happened this evening?”

Please kill me.

“No...Fuck, I…” Peering back to the orange skater, a wave of guilt crashes right into her already throbbing mind when witnessing Mally’s head slumped; her eyes reflecting a deep and personal sadness. “It’s okay, Viv...I understand. We can forget it if you want to.” “Mal, don’t. I-”

Let me die, for heavens sake.

“Ahgghgh!” “Girls, while I can tell that something is clearly happening between you two. Might I suggest waiting until our assignment is dealt with before all this juicy drama makes us slip up?” Damian then asks. “Guess that’d be best.” Mal utters, glancing away from the skull girl beside her leader. With such an irritating stinging sensation pecking at her brain, Vivian could barely get even a word out for her depressed partner; nothing but pained breaths escaping from her lungs.

Finally do the four reach the other side of the mountain base, where upon the scent that their dragon escort follows leads them before what seemingly was a rocky wall; a wall of hanging ivy decorating the stone slab. “A dead end? Fucking really, man? All that time pissing about going up and down this mountain and the trail ends at fuck all?” Vivi complains. “It don’t end there. I can definitely smell the rotting stench of death coming from the other side of that rock. I’d wager that to be a secret entrance to the witch’s lair.” Junji explain. “No problem then, we just bust our way through til we reach the head of this zombie op.” Mally state. “I...think I can offer a smarter and practically less barbaric way in, Mally dear.” Damian claims.

Along the other side of the massive stone slab, the ghostly leader shepherds his friend into the cavern as all of the phase right through the hardened, immovable stone; the four returning to a tangible form when standing within the dimly lit inside of the mountainous cavern. “Ahahahaha...How do you get used to doing that?” Junji questions, his body left quivering from the process. “You do it so many times, you barely feel anything anymore.”

Gazing out to the path ahead of them, the four discover themselves at but the tip of their trip into the mountain side; left with but the dim glow of the torches that line the walls of the tunnel. The pathway set before them radiates a dreadful sense of menace and danger. A terrible omen to the living to heed back from whence they came. “Yep, were definitely on the right track here. Hidden cavernous lairs are always a good sign.” Mally state. “Don’t have to tell me. I can practically smell death coming from almost every corner of this place.” claims the dragon boy, pinching his nose tight from the air around him.” “Then we best not dawdle more than we should. Let’s go.” Damian tells them all, the four of them proceeding onwards into the dark depths of the cavern.

The foreboding shadows continue to surround the four as they march onward into the seemingly neverending depths; all of them keeping at a cautious and careful pace as the rock surrounding them grow more crimson. The further the four venture deeper into the shadowy depths of the mountain cave, the further irritated and pained the skull girl in their ranks becomes; numerous voice constantly flooding the recesses of her mind. Oh god, please no. Make it stop. Make it stop. Somebody help. Is this what hell is? Mommy? Please help? Please, let this end. I don’t want to live any more. “Mmm...Fuck…” Vivian can’t help but utter among her frustration. “Something on your mind, Vivian?” Damian asks. “So many voices...none of them won’t shut the fuck up.” “Voices? Isn’t it just the four of us here?” Junji wonders. “Viv, do you need to leave?” Mally concerns. “No! No. I ain’t quitting here. Let’s keep moving.”

From the cusp of worry for her friends well being, the orange skater winds up bumping into something set before her; Mally feeling the walls soft and fleshy texture for but a moment before falling to the rock hard floor. “That is...not what a rock wall’s supposed to feel like. Anybody got a light?” “Hang on.” Damian states, conjuring an orb of plasma in the palm of his hands. The lime green glow of the ghostly plasma dispels the oppressing shadows, but uncovers a site for the four of them that proves far worse; far far worse. “Oh my god!” “What the fuck!?” “Holy shit!” “W-what is this?”

The sides of the tunnel the four of them thought to be nothing more than natural stone revealed to be littered and made from the flesh of the dead; heads, arms, legs, chests, and eyes left writhing, struggling. Their trapped heads and mouths plastered across moaning, crying, weeping as their bodies wriggle in vain. “We’ll...guess we found out what happened to the townsfolk.” Junji states among his shock. “Dear god...All these people…” Damian utters. “So many. All of them just stuck on the wall...I’m never seen something like this.” Mally claims. “How long has this witch bitch been kidnapping people?” Vivi wonders aloud. The light from the ghostly teens plasma crawls across the living dead trapped within this wall of decayed flesh; letting them behold this foul display stretching across the tunnel for what seemed like miles on end.

Soon enough does Damian rewind the glow of his plasma orb a little ways back when a familiar face is shown within the light; the lime green revealing the Samurai that Junji and him had acquainted with not too long ago. “Koruba!” Damian yelp. Among his exhausted breath does the undead in question lift his eyes up to gaze upon the four beneath him; a soft growl escaping from his rotting teeth before he utters: “Why...did you not heed my warning?” “And just leave you to deal with all this yourself? Hell no!” Junji objects. “You all should not have even come. The necromancer has grown far stronger than I predicted. She holds a terrible ploy set within this mountain’s earth. You must leave and warn the village this instant.” “We won’t need to. We’ll stop all this ourselves. It’s why we came here in the first place.” Mally declares. “You fools have no clue what otherworldly foe you face...The witch has been harvesting the flesh of the living for centuries. So many lives, so many settlements...even my own kingdom, have bee doomed by her hand. Even with my mind and blade as forged as the countless years have made them, stood so little chance against her forces.” “We’ll if taking her on by yourself didn’t work. How bout we do it together.” Junji offers. “Even if I yielded to such, I can do little to dispatch her or her minions as I am. The necromancer having stripped me of my family’s blade. And though wielding it proves useless in her hands, the witch no doubt is no fool. She know’s too well that it proves more of a detriment to her in my hands; and thus stowed away its righteous steel within the depths of this den of evil.” “Well, if retrieving your blade is all we need to accomplish, then what are we waiting for. Mally may you cut our undead friend down from his prison?” Damian orders. “Got it.” the skater complies, brandishing her weapon of strange darkness. “Wait, you don’t understand!” Koruba attempts to warn.

Before the prince could heed his words to them all, Mally leaps up to him in but a single bound as the head of her hockey stick transforms into a sharp blade; the orange skater slashing away Koruba’s binding prison of flesh. Free from his chains, the undead prince falls to the hard stone floor; the four giving him room to breath as he slowly picks himself off the rock. “That...was not wise.” he claims to them.

From this terrible omen does the cavern tunnel suddenly start to quake; the walls of the undead violently trembling and writhing as the four of them huddle back to back. “What’s happening?” Junji questions. Around them do the countless undead body parts start to fall from the wall’s foundation and come to together to reconstitute together into full bodies once more; Koruba joining the rest of the team as all of them quickly prove surrounded by the undead. “I know you don’t got your sword, but can you still fight.” Mally ask their undead alley as her and the rest prepare for combat. “Believe me that the way of the blade isn’t my only specialty.” he confirms, taking on a balanced and steady fighting stance. The legion of the near mindless undead begins its assault against the surrounded five, the entire horde lunging out all at once as their bare their deathly claws and rotting maws.

Seeing several of the undead charge at him, Junji transforms his human hands into lethally sharp dragon claws and raises them up against the hordes racing assault. It only but one swipe from the dragonic teenager to rend the rotting remains of a single undead to shreds, their remains splattering across the cavern’s stone cold floor. Junji repeatedly swipes his claws against the rotting flesh of the horde as they keep coming, the floor beneath his feet decorated in naught but torn flesh and rotted blood. “Jesus. And I thought these guys smelled bad on the outside.” Amidst the young dragon’s complaints does he take a glance back to behold more of the horde rushing out behind him; Junji taking in a deep breath as the numerous zombie ready to lunge out to him. This breath bellows out in a maelstrom of flames that spread across the undead’s rotting skin like a furious wildfire; Junji covering his nose as the zombie’s burn to ash against his raging fires. “Ah, god! They smell worse on fire!”

“Just keep it up. We have to thin out the numbers enough to make an escape.” Mally claims; her hockey stick’s head forming into the head of a sword spear as she lunges out against the cavalcade of undead before her. With but a single lancing jab against the numerous undead, the orange skater skewers through several of them; leaving all of them trapped within her weapons black blade. Some of the dried blood left on her finger from earlier manages to seep into the dark substance holding her weapon together, Mally feeling her hockey stick pulsating in her grasp. “Huh?” In a matter of moments do dozens of pikes of crimson suddenly burst out from within the undead stuck upon her weapons blade; all of them rending the reanimated corpses to nothing but splattered gibs. “Whoa!...That’s new.” While curious of the events that have unfolded before her, the skater peeks back to discover yet more of the horde shambling her way; her site drawn to the puddles of scarlet that stain the tunnel’s rocky floor. “What if…” Desiring to test something out, Mally jabs the end of her hockey stick straight into the earth and watches as strands of black slither across the stone towards the pools of crimson. As soon as the skater’s strands touch these puddles, splintering cluster of hardened scarlet come springing right out from the rock and skewers the whole horde before her to rotting giblets.

“Mally, what was that!?” Damian exclaims. Peering out towards her leader, Mally discovers the ghostly teen left amazed by her bloody demonstration; so much in fact that he fails to notice a zombie creeping up just inches behind. “Yo, watch your back!” the skater warns her ghostly leader. Hearing his companion’s dire warning, Damian peers back to discover the undead seconds away from him; just mere seconds away from chomping down upon his shoulder. Yet does the zombies bite prove fruitless as the ghostly teen effortlessly phases right through its entire body; Damian hovering back through a chunk of the horde as he conjures a sphere of bright plasma in his palm. Right behind the undead mob, the ghostly leader tosses out his orb of lime green out against them all; every undead caught in the blast reduced to nothing in moments. “Thanks, but seriously, how did you do that?” he resumes questions.

“Cause my girl here’s a badass bitch!” they then hear Vivian blurt out, Mally and Damian glancing over to witness the skull girl racing towards an entire cluster of the undead with scythe in hand. “Vivi, wai-” Before the orange skater could even attempt to warn her skeletal pal, she witnesses Vivi swing her deathly weapon into the horde; the sharp blade of her scythe effortlessly slicing straight through their bodies like paper. From where they had been severed, the scythe of death leaves behind a glowing lime green glow that swiftly consumes their rotting bodies in its light; every single piece of the undead vanishing in this flash of lime green. Every single swipe that Vivi takes against the undead practically erodes away entire chunks of the army surrounding them all; Mally left utterly amazed by the display and flashes of green.

Yet she is not the only one left flabbergasted by the skull girl’s display; Koruba staring onward as he watches every undead Vivi dispatches completely vanish in flashes of lime. Though the undead prince doesn’t prove distracted enough by the showing of mystical deathly power, as he glances back to discover another zombie threatening to assault him with its rotting bone fingers. The swordless Samurai weaves right around the zombies boney swipe and thrust his fist right against the middle of its chest; Koruba’s hand completely going right through the undead’s body with but a single strike. But despite leaving a whopping hole right in the middle of its chest, the zombie sill proves very alive and kicking; flailing its limbs about as Koruba struggles dislodge his arm from its insides. “Dammit!” In his attempt to free himself from the body of the undead, the prince kicks off against its lower torso hard enough to detach one of its legs; this giving Koruba enough leeway to fling the zombie aside and dislodge his hand from its chest. Peering down to the leg it left behind, the undead prince swipes the rotting limb right off the ground and shoves its back directly into his lower torso; Koruba taking a moment to balance himself atop this newly acquired limb. “It will have to work for now.”

Though the five have dispatched many of the undead legion the flesh ridden walls of the tunnel refuse to cease discharging more of the rotting dead out from its very depths; the team left almost just as outnumbered as they started. “It just won’t stop!” Junji exclaims. “This is getting us nowhere fast. We’ll be swarmed at this rate.” Mally adds. “I can only slice up so many of the bastards at a time.” Vivi warns. “Us five shall not be enough to quell this unending army. If we wish for this to end, we must strike at its very heart.” Koruba informs. “Then we have to travel deeper within the cavern depths. Let’s move.” Damian orders. Upon the request of their leader do the rest follow the ghostly teen deeper into the hollow tunnels of the mountainous caves, all the while the horde behind them mindlessly pursues after in a frenzy chase.

Despite having outran from the initial horde of undead, the wall of reanimated corpses still haunts the sides of the tunnels they race through; their constant sobbing and moaning reverberating through the caves. “Oh my god, how long is this thing?” asks Mally. “From my first dash through these tunnels, this heinous strip of suffering had lined about every single part of these caves.” Koruba informs. “That long!? What is this witch even planning to do with this many undead?” Damian follows up with. “The answer still eludes me. Though I’m certain that she plans to use them all for the goal of expanding her army further.” “Whatever she has in store, it won’t be anything we can’t handle.” Junji encourages.

Amidst their rush through the tunnels of bemoaning corpses, the rest notice Vivian clutching the side of her head as she struggles to keep up; her painful hissing louder than the suffering zombies stuck to the wall beside them. “Damian, I think we may need to turn around. Vivi ain’t looking to good.” Mally requests. “I’m afraid that’s no longer an option. A horde of undead practically block off our only exit.” the ghostly teen claims. “Fucking...I’m fine, Mal...Shit.” Vivi utters in protest. “Viv, you clearly aren’t. You’ve been acting like this since we touched down. Just tell us what’s wrong.” the orange skater demand. “I said I’m fine, dammit. Why’s it so fucking hard for you to just drop it?” “You know why, Viv. Because I…Why-why do you have to act this bullheaded?”

“We should be thankful that she’s been this stubborn up until now.” Koruba claims. “What do you mean by that?” Damian then asks. “Have you not noticed what her blade does to the undead? Such power thankfully has graced us when we have need of it most. If she were to be left behind, there’s no telling what misfortune might’ve befallen us.” “So she should just put up with all the headaches?” Mally aggressively accuses. “Of course not. I’m saying she might be the best solution to end all this madness. I’m certain that striking at the heart with such a weapon shall end this dreadful madness.” Koruba explains. “So a slash at the heart and it’ll all be over?” Damian asks. “All but one end. One that we must severe if we wish for something like this to never happen again. We must end the life of the master puppeting this sick little show. To purge the land of this sickly evil with the blade of my family. Though I hate to admit this, I’ve gotten a little lost upon my first trip towards the witch’s chamber; a blessing in disguise as it has bestowed me with a mental note of this labyrinths inner workings.” “So can you tell us the way through this place?” Mally questions. “Indeed, I can.” “Good to hear. Vivi, you and Mally head towards the center of these tunnels and strike at the heart. Junji and I shall follow Koruba to confront the necromancer. Keep in touch so that he can lead you through the depths of this maze.” “Sounds like a plan to me.” Junji states. “Ngh...Let’s fuck this place up.” Vivian declares. With a ploy to stop this undead madness all set, all of them split off in the teams mentioned before when coming upon a fork in the tunnel; Mally and Vivian taking the left while the other’s veer off into the right.

Both girls press through the undead plastered cavern tunnels, even as the bemoaning zombie’s that are left struggling within the rock and flesh ridden walls grow louder and agonizing. When peering back to check upon her skeletal pal, Mally comes to a streaking halt when finding next to no one following behind her; a great worry creeping in the back of her mind as she retraces her steps back through the dark tunnel. Just when she grows anxious upon the fate of her friend, the orange skater is relieved to find her not far; though hints remain as she discovers Vivian trembling on her knees, clutching the sides of her head. “Vivi! What’s wrong?” “All of them...won’t shut the fuck up…” “All of who?” “I...I don’t fucking know!” Finding Vivian left racked with suffering beyond her understanding, Mally ponders upon what should be done; realizing full well that her friend cannot continue in the painful state she’s in. Yet Koruba’s words still ring in her head, over how Vivi is the only one who can strike at the heart of this disaster.

As the skull girl lay seething upon the rock as countless voices ring within her head, Vivian suddenly feels herself being swept off the dirty stone and opens her eyes to discover the orange skater carrying her in her arms; her face lighting up in bright red as she feels her friends firms arms upon her back. “Just try and relax Viv. I’ll make up for the both of us.” With roller blades tied to her feet and her skeletal friend lying in her arm, Mally takes off down deeper through the shadowy recesses of the mountain tunnels; the moaning of the dead beside them growing anxious as she skaters further down.

The befitting outcries of true suffering ring through the ears of the boys as they reach the end of the labyrinthine tunnels; the trio finally reaching the very end of the complex to behold a strange chamber. They take note of how the reanimated dead left strewn along the walls seem set out in a particular pattern; all of which point out to the far end of the chamber. “So, we in the right place?” Damian questions their undead guide. “We are. This is where I have face our culprit before. And to which she had cowardly got the drop on me.” “Any pieces of advice?” Junji then wonders. “Watch the walls, floor, and ceiling. She can squeeze through this chamber’s sides as seemlessly as water.”

Its among the countless sense of death that waft through the dark foreboding chamber that the dragonic teen picks up a rather familiar scent among the countless rotting flesh; Damian peering over to the sniffing dragon to ask: “You smell something?” “Aside the constant stink of death everywhere? Yeah, smelling something familiar here. Feel like I’ve sensed it before.” Junji can’t help but wonder through the fleshy chamber as his nose leads him along the walls plastered with the struggling and infused undead; a strange bulge swimming beneath the flesh prowling closer to the dragon boy. Upon noticing this lump of flesh burrowing towards Junji, the undead prince starts his sudden dash out to his dragonic ally; the bulge growing further out as he nears the young dragon. “Get down!” Koruba attempts to warn as he leaps out after his friend.

The undead prince tackles the dragon teen as elongated claws of dark forest green burst out from the walls of undead; Koruba and Junji evading the deathly fingers as they fall upon the floor. Peering up from beneath his zombie ally does the dragon come to behold the body those claws belong to shoot out from the walls and flop down in the middle of the chamber. The three look on disgusted and horrified as they gaze upon a sickly figure with nothing but countless wriggling tendrils for a lower half; the upper body of this dark green body proving incredibly thin and lanky as it pries itself off the floor with its nearly stick like limbs. The horror set before them all lifts its sickly bald head up past its shoulders as a shaken breath escapes from its jagged tooth maw; the head jerking towards the two to let them behold its caved in eye sockets with naught but the deathly stare of glowing green to greet them. “Holy! What the hell is that!?” Junji exclaims. “That is the very monster behind this madness. The very same responsible for keeping my rotted body ad so many others cursed to this mortal coil.” Koruba explains. “This is our Necromancer? I can barely stand to look at it.” Damian comments in utter disgust. In that very moment does a wheezing laughter suddenly escape out from the depths of the creatures very lunges; a haunting laughter that causes the undead plastered across to tremble in fear.

“Does my form repulse you so?...No matter. All of you shall feel indifferent in the end when my hands reach for your bodies and tear you asunder…” “You’re horrifying curse upon the living ends tonight, you scourge. No longer shall you plague this world with your rampant abuse of this mortal coil!” the undead Samurai decries. “Empty words...from the depths of an empty heart, dear prince. So many decades of seeking my end. So many failures to quell my wrath...And yet you hold one last stand against me, all upon the night of the great requiem. Even with your newfound ally’s by your side to make up your failure last time. It’s far too late. The construction of my final piece is complete, and the pieces of my final plan are falling into place. Soon, this land...and those that lay bare beyond the ocean’s salt waves...shall fall upon my grasp...doomed to assimilate within the recesses of my power.”

Upon this decree does the witch drive the tendrils of her lower half down upon the center of the floor; her sickly figure vanishing into the flesh as the entire chamber starts to furiously tremble all around them. “What’s happening!?” Junji screams. “She’s enacting this now? I thought we had more time!” “You knew about this!? What is she doing!?” Damian demands to know. “She has engraved all the countless souls she had reaped over the decades with the countless confines of this very mountain, efforts of which had been leading up to her plans of ultimate dominance over the living. All with what she claims to be her ultimate masterpiece.”

The chamber they reside within isn’t the only part of these mountain caverns that quake with such furiousity, for almost every single tunnel within the complex trembles in unison; Mally left struggling to balance herself as she skates through with Vivi in her arms. “Agh! Is the mountain coming down?” she exclaims. Among questioning the condition of their tunnel complex does the orange roller blade come to witness the caverns themselves forming numerous fissures from the raging quakes; the lunar glow of the moon slipping in as these cracks rapidly grow. Before Mally could even humor the notion of fleeing from these open fissures, she feels the entire tunnel begin to lean down into the open night air; the orange skater frantically attempting to climb up to escape from her plummet down. Yet with her dear skeletal friend resting in her arms, the young lass fails to make it up far and slides down into the fissure beneath; descending out from the caverns and falling into the open night air.

Frantically peering around as she plummets towards the Earth, Mally swiftly digs into her pockets to withdraw her trusty grapple yo; the young girl casting her gadget out to a piece of stone still attached to the mountainside. Keeping the skull girl held tightly in her arm, the skater swings through the midnight air as she peeks up towards the very top of the mountain; Mally left flabbergasted when watching the peek ascend higher as something begins to emerge from the fissures.

Nearing the Earth, Mally skids across the dirt ridden road as she keeps a tight hold of her skeletal pal resting in her arms; withdrawing her gadget back to her side as she kicks up a hefty cloud of dirt. When beginning to come to a stop, the orange skater sets the skull girl gently down onto the ground; Vivi rubbing the side of her head as she pulls herself up. “You alright there, Viv?” Mally immediately asks. “Yeah, they all finally shut up. The fuck happened?” “The tunnels started shaking and dumped us right outside. I think Damian and the other’s are still in there. We need to-...Whaaa…” the orange skater begins to explain, her speech waning when gazing upon the site that lies beyond the receding dust. “What the hell are you-...Holy fuck.” From where the two of them sit do they watch as limbs of flesh and bone crawl out from the rocky mountain; a pair of dark green eyes emerging out from beneath the peak.

Out along the early morning streets of the town, a group of battered teens limp along the streets as they aid one another in holding up their broken limbs and beaten faces; the lamp post illuminating the dried blood still left under one’s mouth. In their moment of post humiliation do they feel a resounding quake shake the entire town; the lamps beneath them flickering rapidly as the concrete trembles beneath their feet. The teenagers gaze around for what could wrought these trembling quakes upon the town; one of them letting out a horrified shriek as they point out towards the mountains. Peering to what manner of horror could frighten their friend so, the rest of the teenagers are left with waves of complete dread crashing upon them as they witness a massive giant arise with slabs of the mountain attached to its body.

The light of the moon glistens down upon this rising behemoth to reveal underneath its body made from the countless rotting undead, clustered together in a sickly amalgamation that cries out into the fresh open air in horrible bemoaning agony. Upon finally standing tall does the colossus rival the size of the mountain it had broken from.; its deathly dark green eyes piercing the night air as they stare down upon the town held at the bottom of the quarry. Beneath these eyes does an opening tear up; the deep abyss of the giant’s maw opening as it raises its head to the night sky. From the depths of the undead does a terrible and deathly roar pierce through the cool early morning air, its very voice causing the entire land to tremble from its call. Trees shook, building quakes, glass shatters, and people panic upon its call of utter doom.

Down along the side of where this titan had broken from, both Mally and Vivian gaze upon the giant amalgamation of rock and flesh in a confusing panic. “We were in that fuckin thing!? Its so massive!” the skull girl exclaims. Upon this realization do they then witness the behemoth start to limp down the fractured face of the mountain and down towards the town waiting below. “No! Its head straight down to the town. If it get down there, it’ll be a disaster!” claims Mally. “The hell are we pissing around for then? Let’s fucking goooooooo!” Vivi exclaims, racing straight out towards the lumbering giant. “Viv!” Though she vaguely reaches out for her skeletal girl, Vivian proves far too eager for Mally to say no to; the skater letting out a frustrated breath before she roller blades. Quickly catching up to the Vivi, Mally sweeps the skull girl right off her feet and carries her in her arms as they both race out towards the behemoth. “Do you even got a plan here?” Mally asks her. “Ah...nope.” Vivi admits, attempting to hide her bright red cheeks.

The deathly dark green eyes of the colossus glows in tandem with the necromancers own, the witch letting out an excited moan out from her dreadful smile as she hangs along the wall of the chamber. “Finally...the genesis of my conquest have taken root. Soon, this mortal coil shall be in my grasp and mortality itself shall be under my rule.” “Not as long as I draw breath!” Koruba declares, leaping up towards the witch with his fists ready to strike. Before the undead Samurai could even land a single hit against the necromancer, her deathly claw pierce straight through his very torso; witch suspending the Samurai in the air with but her very fingers as she lets out a dreadful cackle. “My dear prince. If you could not defeat me before I had fused with my creation, what makes you believe you can now?”

Upon that very taunting statement does the witch suddenly feel her side rend apart by thick and sharp talons that dig through her very being; the blow harsh enough to shake the necromancers grasp from the undead prince. “He’s got us!”Junji declares slashing against the witch of the dead. “Insolent lizard!” When the deathly necromancer swipes her bone like claws towards him; Junji meets his own talons with her’s in blocking the witch’s lethal slash; sparks grinding out from the claws as the dragon is pushed back from his deadly foe. In his retreat does the dragonic teen spew out a raging ball of flames out towards the necromancer; the deathly witch slithering into the depths of the fleshy wall before a single ember could reach her.

“Where did she go?” the dragon boy questions as he flutters around the chamber. Amidst searching the flesh ridden walls of the room does Damian come to witness their foe emerge out directly above his dragonic partner from the roof; the witch opening her jagged tooth maw to threaten to bite down upon him. In an instance does Damian charge out towards the young dragon boy and tackles him away from the witch’s deadly fingers; both of them evading her sharp deathly claws Despite having gotten his ally out of the way, the ghost boy still remains of the necromancer’s reach and finds her going for another swipe at him; Damian turning intangible right as the witch swings out. But even when left completely incorporeal, the nercomancers claw’s nonetheless strike at the ghostly teens back; the fabric of his uniform ripping as drips of blood stain the back. “Aaagh!” “Damian” Junji shouts, racing over as his leader plummets down to the floor. Sliding right along the fleshy floor of the chamber, the dragon boy manages to catch his leader before the ghost could crash upon the sickly flesh. “You alright?” he asks the ghastly boy. “Yeah. She didn’t pierce through any muscle.” “But how did she even hit you? You turned intangible.” In questioning this does a devious chuckle escape from the witch’s maw, her cackling echoing through the entire flesh ridden chamber. “Have you not caught on yet, you dimwitted lizard? My entire being nestles betwixt the plans of the life and doom, between birth and death, between mortal and spiritual. The tips of my very fingers can touch upon the living and the ghostly; to sow the threads between and give the dead life once more. How do you supposed I had created the very masterpiece you stand within?” “Tis not a masterpiece, but an abomination.”

This decree called out, the necromancer veers away to witness the undead prince leap right off the fleshly walls and jump out from where she hangs; Koruba grasping onto her backside and starting to beat down upon her body. “Agh! You devilish corpse! I should’ve tore you apart when I had the chance.” the witch outcries, flailing herself about in an effort to fling the Samurai off.

Damian slowly starts to pull himself out from his dragon partners arms; pained hissing escaping from his teeth as he rises on his own two feet. “Damian, you’re hurt.” Junji reminds him. “That does not matter. Koruba’s practically falling apart and he won’t quit, neither should we. Let’s join him.” “Wait!” “Junji, there’s no time.” “No, I think I’m picking up something in the air again. Between the stench of death just plaguing the air. Started noticing it when we came in.” “What? You have any idea what it could be?” “I think...Definitely smelled something like it befor- That’s what it is.” “What? What is it?” “It’s that sword.”

Outside the colossal undead, the orange skater starts to approaching the towering giant with Vivian in her arms; both girls gazing up to the behemoth with ready determination. “You sure you’re up for this, Viv?” questions Mally. “Bitch, I came out the vag ready!  Get up that motherfucker, I’ll skewer its rotting ballsack off!” “That’s the spirit!”

Hearing her skeletal pal’s determination declared, the approaching roller blader casts forth her trusty yo yo up at the colossus hanging limb; the gadgets shell wrapping tightly around one of the behemoths thick and massive fingers. “Hang on!” With this warning said does Mally reel in the string of her gadget to rapidly ascend up past the very kneecaps of the colossal undead; the two girls arising right up to the midsection of the behemoth in just a few short seconds. The skater unravels her grapple yo from the giants finger as they both rocket straight aside its very chest; Mally beginning to take aim as Vivi braces herself. “You ready?” “Fucking do it already!” Given the queue from her skeletal pal, the orange skater pitches Vivian up towards the behemoth as the skull girl conjures the scythe of death in her hands; the face of the dead that line the giant’s skin growing more clear the closer she gets. Right when she was on the verge of smacking straight against the neck of the giant, Vivi swings her deathly weapon against the colossal undead; the blade driven deeply into its jugular.

Yet despite having cleanly pierces straight through the giant’s very neck, very little else happens as Vivi struggles to cut through the rest of it; the edge of her blade barely able to move even a centimeter underneath the giant’s skin. “Thicc ass motherfucker!” Among her moments of struggle, a sharp stinging pain suddenly begins to flood right into her head; Vivian letting out a painful hiss as she keeps hold of the scythe’s neck. What is this place? Oh god, I can’t feel anything. Mommy, where are you, I’m scared. I wanna go home. When will this nightmare end? “Nnnngh...Shut! The fuck! Up!” the skull girl shrieks, violently pounding against the giant’s neckline in her pained fury.

Amidst Vivi’s furious outrage, the undead colossus trips up on a massive crag set beneath its very feet and starts to flail about in keeping itself from falling; the skeletal young lady holding on as tight as she can as the giant shakes about. All the violent trembling from the giant eventually dislodges the tip of the scythe right out from its thick neck skin; Vivi and her weapon flung right above the behemoth’s very head, soon plummeting back down towards the giant open maw. In but a matter of seconds is the skull girl dropped straight into the towering undead’s throat; her outcries silenced when swallowed by the gaint.

Having witness her potential to be girlfriend devoured by the colossus before her in but a single gulp, shocked tears start to trickle down Mally’s face; her eyes beginning to take on a shade of blood red. The orange lass swiftly lobs her trusty gadget straight out towards one of the giant’s thick and massive arms; the shell twirling right around the behemoths limb tight enough to make blood seep out from its skin. Mally streaks through the cold night air as she swings out towards the colossal undead’s very midsection; clutching the neck of her hockey stick tightly as its head transforms into a giant great sword. When coming towards the giant’s midsection, the skater swings her weapons straight against its very side and starts to carve right through its stomach and to its other hip; effectively slicing the giant undead right in life. Yet this incredible feet fails to go rewarded, as Mally peers to where she had made her cut to discover both halves of the giant quickly coming back together; the countless zombies that make up its body returning to eachother and patching the clean cut as it never happened. “Fucking! Come on!”

The claws of the dragon rend through the flesh of the undead that remain plastered against the walls of the chamber, chunks of rotting meat splattering down upon the floor with each swipe of Junji’s talon’s. Upon the other side of the chamber, the ghostly leader flutters back and forth through the rim’s of the necromancer’s chambers; the countless undead pushing him back every time he delves down into the wall’s depths. And right between the two of them does the undead prince fight off the constant swipes from the witch’s deathly green bones; evading every single slash she makes at him as he remains puzzled of the actions of his allys. “What is the matter with you two? Do you not see the dire threat before us?” Koruba cries. “Seems that the disparity they face has driven them mad with fear. Desperate to claw their way out from the recesses of my sanctum. Alas are their pathetic efforts for naught. My masterpiece shall not let a soul escape from its undead veins.” “Silence!”

Upon this very outcry do they peer off towards Damian’s direction, the witch watching the ghostly teen continue to phase in and out from the walls as he goes on to deny her words. “As if we’d abandoned such a soul from achieving the justice he deserves. The fear you say we face is nonexistent.” “Yeah, like hell we’d ditch our guy now! Not when we’re in this deep!” Junji adds, continuing to rend through the chambers fleshy tissue. “Alas dastardly witch are your word as empty as your soul. Never in the countless years you’ve cursed me to endure have I been blessed by such companions. And its with such a blessing that I shall end your reign of terror!” Declaring this truth to the necromancer does the undead prince lunge forth with righteousness and gallantry; Koruba driving the very bones of his fist straight against the witch’s face hard enough to nearly blow her head off.

Clawing his way through the depths of the chambers meat that the dragonic teen start to witness a glimmering sheen among the rotting flesh; a smile gleaming across his face as he sees a familiar hilt attached to the metal. “I...I found it! I found the sword!” Junji exclaims outloud. “Fantastic!” Damian praises. “No...NO!” the witch screeches. In her panicking hurry does the necromancer attempt to slither back into the depths of her chamber to stop the dragon from digging up her one Achilles heel; something grasping onto her before she could disappear into the flesh. Above her does the witch find the undead prince pulling against her escape; clutching tightly against the folds of her back as Koruba struggles to keep her in place. “Hang on, Junji. I’ll come help.” the ghostly teen offers as he takes off towards his dragon ally. “NO! I will not let you!” Upon this very outcry does the witch turn a complete 180 and instead bursts up from the floor of her chamber; knocking away the undead prince as she rides atop a slithering body of the infused zombie’s. “I’ll rend you to pieces, you damn lizard!”

In just moments from slashing down the dragon digging through the flesh of her very chamber walls, the ghostly teen intercepts her lunging assault with lungs full of breath; Damian letting forth his voice explode in a ghostly wail. The incredible intensity of the phantom echoes prove enough of significantly push the necromancer back from his ally; Junji continuing to claw the sword out from the depths of flesh as his leader defends him. 7 straight seconds of ghastly outcries echo out from the very being of the Damian’s very soul, a shout powerful enough to shake the entire chamber and beyond. Yet the boy’s screams do not last as the effort itself leaves Damian utter fatigued; fluttering down to the ground as he attempts to catch his breath. Peering out from the other side of the chamber does the ghostly teen foe stagger for just a moment from the waves of wails, but soon shaking off the boy’s best attack like it was nothing. “She...took it like nothing.”

As the witch resumes her hurrying race across her own sanctum, Junji takes hold of the swords hilt and begins to pull the blade out from the depths of the fleshy wall. “You put that back you trouble making urchin!” the necromancer shrieks. Yet before the witch could strike the boy down, Junji uproots the legendary mystical blade out from the flesh ridden walls of the chamber; the witch flinging back as she witnesses the dragon hold the blade up high. “Koruba, catch!” cries the dragon, flinging the katana aside from the necromancer and towards his undead ally. “NO!” Witnessing his precious family’s sacred blade tumbling through the rotting air, the undead prince leaps up after the weapon as the witch pursues after the blade herself; both of them reaching out as far as their arms could as they each approach the airborne blade.

Skidding across the rocky incline of what remained of the mountain, Mally peers up to the colossus that lumbers its away down towards the town; it just being a dozen more steps away from the humble Chinese town. Amidst her mind going a million miles an hour on what should be done; a particular scent snaps her attention away; the orange skater taking a distinct smell of the odd scent wafting through the air. Smells like copper and iron. But where’s it coming from? Is it coming from the giant? Questioning the peculiar scent’s origin, the orange skater gazes upon the head of her hockey stick to behold the blood of the giant wriggling around among the dark sheen of her weapon; the strands of scarlet slither out towards the lumbering behemoth. Connecting the dots set before her, the orange roller blader swings her weapon out towards the undead colossus; the strands of red from the head streaking through the air, tangling themselves throughout the body of the giant.

These dripping lines of crimson leading from the head of her weapon hugging the undead giant, Mally jerks back from where the giant stands; the behemoth suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. Despite the overwhelming size difference between her and the rotting colossus, Mally keeps the towering zombie from moving another inch towards the town; the undead giant struggling to escape from the orange skaters bloody binds. “You’re...not...going…anywhere!” Its in this declaration that Mally then drives the sharp head of her weapon deep into the earthly soil; a distinct red puncturing through the hard mountain rock and rooting into the soil beneath. Her weapons neck trembling in her grasp, Mally takes a step back as she watches the blood staining it slither through the dark matter and wood; the scarlet eventually branching away from the neck to rapidly grow into numerous branches. The orange skater can’t help but watch in awe as the stains of red from her weapon grow out until taking the form of what seemed like a bright red, jagged tree that anchors the undead colossus from moving another inch. Whoa!

Gazing up towards the struggling behemoth does she find the undead failing to escape from its bloody binds; Mally realizing the best course of action to pursue after her skeletal friend. The orange skater leaps up to the top of the jagged tree and starts to race across the strands that lead up to the bloodbound giant; Mally surfing along the upward surface of the scarlet branches with her skates as seamlessly as a stream. When arriving right upon the shoulder of the rotting colossus, the roller blader jumps right onto the giants flapping jaw and swan dives right in through its deathly maw; determined to reach Vivi from the depths of the undead.

A sharp, piercing slash reverberates through the inner sanctum of the giant; Damian and Junji gazing towards the top of the chamber and watch as their undead ally careens right past the dastardly witch. Peering to her left does the wicked necromancer find one of her limbs having been severed off in a razor clean cut; ooze of dark green dripping out from her terrible wound as she lets out an agonizing shriek. Landing right upon the edge of the chamber, Koruba clutches upon the fleshy visage of the wall; the undead samurai left beholding the witch hanging above flailing about in utter pain. “Do you feel it, you nasty cur? That is but a taste of the terrible pain you have inflicted upon so many others. I swear upon my undead existence that I shall deliver the rest of it tenfold.” This declaration spoken, Koruba leaps against the rotting wall of the chamber and bounds towards the witch once more with his blade raised high; the enraged necromancer swiping out to the approaching prince to intercept. Sparks fly as the princes blade and the witch’s deathly claws meet, Koruba takes the clashing moment to grasp hold of his deathly foe’s limb and flip upon it like a daring acrobatic; the sharp edge of the prince’s blade slicing right through her flesh like melted butter. “Cool!” Junji expresses with an eager smile. “Quite elegant.” Damian comments. The very floor of the chamber rains with the dark green blood of the witch as Koruba flips down towards the ground; the prince landing upon his feet without so much as a hitch.

Left upon the brink of her patience, the necromancer trembles lets out a terrible growl as her body trembles in a rage; the witch suddenly lunging straight down after the prince with her maw filled with jagged and sharp teeth. Right as she was on the verge of biting down upon the prince’s rotting flesh, Koruba zips right past her in what seemed like the blink of an eye; the edge of his blade left dripping with the foul blood of the witch. When upon flinging this nasty blood right off the surface of the sword, the witch’s jaw is severed from her head; a frustrated gurgle leaving what remained of her maw.

“The countless decades of isolation have left me with the time to hone my skills with the blade. It was the few things that would keep the numbing boredom at bay. All those years honing my decayed body and my enduring mind, shall be spent to rid the world of your deathly ambitions.” “If you believe that killing me shall stop this madness, your mind has rotted more than you realize. Without a master, the undead crafted by my hands shall simply act upon instinct and feed, forever enchained to this mortal coil with their decaying vessels.” the witch warns. “How are you talking without a jaw!?” Junji comments. “Once more, your tongue speaks little of what you understand. More than two have come to my aid. There is still ally’s by my side fully capable of dispatching your foul creation.”

In her descent down into the depths of the deathly colossus, Mally falls through the mixture of vague red darkness and the scent of doom looming through the air as she plummets; the orange skater discovering a faint light alongside a ledge of bone on the way down. With but a single hand does the young woman grab onto the fleshy cliff before she could drop down another inch further; her fingernails scraping against the meaty decayed skin and flesh that makes up the ledge. As soon as she pulls herself up, the site of the deathly light is discovered to be a massive beating heart made from countless undead stitched together like the rest of the giant. Before this heart of terrible evil does Mally discover somebody left kneeling down before its light, overwhelming joy filling her spirit when finding it to be her skeletal pal.

That same relief begins to wane however when she starts to approach Vivian however; the skull girl left toiling in agony as she clutches the side of her head, her weapon resting behind her. “Vivi! Wha-what’s wrong!? What’s gotten into you!?” Mally concerns. “They won’t shut up.” Vivi whispers. “Huh.” “They won’t shut the fuck up!” “Who?” “Everyone! Every god damn zombie that makes up this giant piece of shit! None of them will shut their piss holes for a fucking second!” “Vivi, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?” “Ever since we touched down, I’ve been hearing these voices ring in my head. Didn’t know what the hell they were at first. Then after a while, I realized. It was them. It was all those people that got killed and brought back. I’m hearing them! I’m hearing the voices of the fucking undead! All of their thoughts just rushing into my head like a pounding cock going straight into the ass of my brain! It’s so loud! I can’t take it!”

Realizing how much Vivian was suffering, the orange girl takes in a calming deep breath of the raw iron that stains the air of the behemoth; her eyes glimmering a faint scarlet as she starts to near her agonizing friend. With gentle hands does Mally place her palms upon the skull girls surprisingly soft cheeks; the voices haunting Vivi’s mind muffling when feeling the girl’s hand caress her face. “Vivi...I want to tell you something. Lately, every time we touch, I get this feeling, every time I look at you, something in my head just runs wild, l-like skating through heaven and hell at a million miles an hour. I asked you earlier when we went out for dinner if it was a date or not wasn’t a joke. I genuinely did question if I wanted it to be one. But after seeing you get swallowed, I made up my mind. I don’t know what will happen to us in our lives, if the future will hold a terrible fate for the both of us; but even if it does, I want you to be a part of it. I want you to be a part of me. I...I want you, Vivi. I want you to be mine and me yours. Do you wanna go out with me?”

All at once do the countless voices that run through the skull girl’s mind suddenly cease all at once upon this question, Vivian’s face glowing bright red as she looks in Mally’s awaiting eyes. “M-Mal…” In but an instant does the skull girl rise from her kneeling pain to embrace the orange girl standing before her; tears trickling down her cheeks as her breath trembles. “Of course I do...Why would I not want such a bad bitch as my girl.” Left in blissful awe upon Vivi’s answer to her plead, Mally slithers her arms around the skeletal girls figure and basks in the gentle warmth. Peering from behind her newly established girlfriend, Vivi discover the scythe of death emitting a potent dark green aura throughout its very blade; the skull girl pulling away from Mally’s embrace as she declares. “Now let’s finish what we started.”

Vivi marches straight past her girl with confidence as she comes near the weapon of death and reaches out for its deep black neck, both her hand and confidence wavering when her palm nears the handle. Its then that Mally’s own hand reaches alongside her’s, Vivian peering back to find her girl kneeling beside her with a bright smile on her face. With the girl’s hands beside one another, the two of them reach out and clutche upon the neck of the scythe together; a deep scarlet entwining with the dark green that radiates from the blade. Plucking the scythe from the flesh floor, the two girls turn about to face the pulsing heart of the undead giant that glows before them both. “You ready.” asks Mally. “I came out the pussy ready.” Vivi exclaims. The neck of the scythe held tightly in their grasp, Mally and Vivian raise the deathly blade as high as they could reach as the red and green swirling along the weapon intensifies. Do it! We believe in you! Strike us down! End this nightmare once and for all! Release us from suffering! Destroy this vessel! The day shall break for us all! Stop the witch’s curse!

We all wish you two a bright future!

All at once do the both of them finally swing the scythe down upon the evil that beats before them; a line of red and green puncturing right through rotting flesh of the heart.

With but a clean slash from his family’s sacred blade, Koruba severed the bound between the wicked necromancer and her foul masterpieces; an unholy outcry escaping from the bottom of her soul as she starts to plummet down towards the ground. Spring straight off the wall he lands upon, the undead Samurai readies his blade to strike down the dastardly witch from the midst of the air; the necromancer left helpless as a product of her own creation was on the cusp of striking her down. In what seemed like a second does the undead prince’s blade cut through the entirety of the necromancers disgusting form; the witch splitting apart in half as a bright light of red and green seeps from below, encompassing all those within the sanctum in its glowing embrace.

The warming glow of the sun stretches its twilight shines upon the Chinese town and the mountains beyond; the undead titan that stands but a few miles from the edge of the village, its gigantic figure casting a shadow upon the broken face of the mountain. When just a couple more steps away from the edge of the quaint town, the decaying behemoth suddenly halts its deathly march; the glow in its eyes fading away as the sun shines its warmth upon more of the zombie as it arises from the horizon. An almost relieving breath escaping from its depths as the countless undead that makes up its body begins to dissolve; all the rotting people that dwell within its horrid body welcoming the embrace of death not with frightening denial, but with open acceptance. In but a matter of seconds does giant crumble to dust, the titan’s remains glistening against the sunlight as its disintegrate.

Thank you…

All that remained of the horrifying giant lay scattered across the face of the mountain, with not even a single shred of their decaying forms left among the dust; the calming gentle winds carrying pieces of these ashes across the morning skies. In midst the relief of the threat’s end do a couple of people dig themselves out from the ashy remains; one of the witch’s creations left standing in this mortal coil. Left in shock over his lack of passing, the undead prince looks upon the welcoming glow of the morning sun; Koruba gazing upon his rotting palms in confusing dread. “How?...How am I still here? I slayed the witch. Yet her curse lives beyond her. Have I not atoned?”

Not far beside the undead Samurai does something breach through a patch of the giant’s remains; the dust falling from his figure as Junji takes in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. “Oh my god, finally. Thought I’d never smell fresh air again.” “It is nice to get that rotting scent of death out from my senses.” another familiar voice claims. Phasing right out from the depths of the ashes, Damian hovers right above the dragon boy as he turns corporeal once more; taking in the welcoming rays of the sun. “Nothing refreshes the soul more than the welcoming morning breeze beating against the body.” “I’ll say. Gonna have to take a deep cleaning when we get back though. Swear that disinfectant won’t be enough to wash these duds.”

From there do their undead ally join them in their exchange, the boy peering to the prince as he declares that: “At last has the dreaded necromancer’s corruption been cleansed from this humble land. And I have you and your alleys to thank for it.” “Tis but a pleasure, Koruba. It’s simply part of our job.” Damian claims. “Hey, you were pretty damn cool too, man. The way you just slashed her apart with your sword in just seconds. Wish I could do something as sick as that.” Junji compliments. “Indeed. You’ve proven yourself quite skilled, dare I say more then any other swords men under our wing. Perhaps there might be a place for you. A new purpose within this world. How would you like to join the Vanguard League? I’m willing to bet with your expertise, you could teach some of the new recruits some old tricks.” the ghostly boy offers. “You...You really wish for an undead such as I by your side?” “Hey, don’t sweat it; we have a lot weirder folks back at HQ. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.” the dragon teen claims. “...Tempting as it sounds, I-”

“Heeeey!” all of them than hear echoing from a couple yards away. Peering up to the top of a nearby mound of ash, the three witness the skeletal girl stand upon the peek of dust with a grin across her face; Vivian beginning her sliding descend down towards the rest of the group. But amidst her slide down does the skull girl wind up tripping on her feet; tumbling down the rest of the way as curses just flood out from her mouth: “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck! God fucking dammit! Son of a- agh!...Fucking hell!” “Viv, glad to see you made it.” Junji tells. “I trust that dispatching this giant was your doing?” Damian asks. “Agh...You bet your sweet ass it was. Mal and me sliced its heart right in half with just one fucking swipe. Felt damn good back there.” “Speaking of, where is Mally.” the dragon boy questions. “She’s not with you? Shit! Gotta go find her. Might be pissing about trying to find us.” the skull girl states as she starts to race out through the field of ash.

Before Vivi could search far for her new partner, the voice of the undead prince stops her dead in her tracks as he demands that she: “Wait!” “What the hell is it?” “It shames me to ask yet another favor from you all, as you’ve aided me more than I could ever ask for. But there is yet one more task I wish for your aid in.” “Of course. What can we help you with?” Damian then wonders. The undead princes takes but a moment to inhale a deep breath of the fresh morning air before he finally speaks of his request; staring to the three with his remaining eye as he wishes: “Now that the witch’s scheme has been cut short. There is nothing left to keep me here. And that is why with a humble heart that I ask to be granted mercy...I ask of you to severe me from this mortal coil…and strike me down.”

Out further up along the face of the mountain, a patch of the titans dust burst as a figure breaches from the surface; the ash blowing away from her body as Mally takes in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. Amidst breathing in this refreshing breeze does the scent of iron stain the very air she takes in; the strong smell of copper causing the orange girl to turn around to to face the very source of the scent. The jagged tree of hardened crimson still stands rooted in the dirt of the earth; its crystal surface glistening from the morning sunlight. From the base of the scarlet tree does the skater discover the neck of her weapon protruding out, Mally climbing up to the bottom of the crimson tree and grasping hold of the hockey stick. In but a matter of moments, the orange girl uproot her weapon out from the depths of the tree of red; Mally gazing upon her weapon to find the dark black that held it together having been completely stained in a deep crimson. Whoa. Cool.

Gazing down the opposite way can she spot a couple of people standing along the base of the mountain, Mally recognizing the group to be the rest of her team. Oh, guess they must be trying to look for me. Better not keep them worrying. Mally leaps straight down the mountain slope after her awaiting crew down below, using the ashes of the titan to slide right down towards the bottom; the dust she leaves behind blowing in the fresh gentle winds.

“You can’t be serious!?” Junji exclaims. “Koruba, to ask us of that?” Damian shutters with his hand over his mouth. “Abso-fucking-lutely not! What the hell is wrong with you!?” Vivian harshly denies. “I know this to be a grim request, one that I cannot possible see any of you doing of your own volition. Yet I plead this to you so.” “What make you think we can even do that?” the dragon question. “I’ve beheld your friend here dispatch my fellow undead with incredible ease, not even leaving a single trace of them to speak of. I thought perhapes with her help, I can finally rest.” the samurai explains. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?” the ghostly boy affirms. “You must be outta your fucking mind to ask us that?” Vivi claims. “Yeah, after everything you’ve helped us with? There still’s so much out there. So much to live for. So much to-” Junji objects. “None you understand!” The undead prince’s outburst draws out a shocking silence from the trio; all three of them left stunned as Koruba calms himself with a passing breath.

“For decades have I roamed this mortal realm. For countless years has this 18 year old rotting vessel anchored my soul to this plain of existence. My very thoughts growing numb and still in my quest for justice and retribution. Not a moment past in my countless years of my accursed life have I not wished to see the faces of my loved ones. To be embraced in their comforting arms once more. Yet it was my kingdoms grizzly fate that kept me bound from seeking the end. To bar the dreaded Necromancer from enacting what she had done to my people long ago. And how that my quest has been fulfilled, I ask myself...What is there left for me here? What could possible be awaiting for a stain of life such as myself that is worth spending another moment toiling in this realm. And beside...an accursed being like me should not exist in this world.” “I mean, its against magic law to raise the dead...But still, after everything you’ve help us with. After saving so many innocent lives!?” the dragonic teen claims. “Yeah, its fucking bullshit!” Vivi curses.

“I understand.” Damian claims. “You fucking serious!?” the skull girl blurts out to her leader. “His entire undead existence has been filled with isolation, pain, and memories of old haunting your every waking moment. Unable to find even a bit of comfort among the living. But I ask of you, is this what you really wish?” Upon the ghostly teen’s question, Koruba kneels before the three and stabs the dust beneath his feet with his families blade; awaiting for their mercy as he confirms that: “Nothing would make me happier.” “If it’s what you want. Vivian?” A frustrated sigh escapes from the skull girl as her fists are left trembling, finally conceding to her leaders orders as she goes: “Fine.”

Standing before the kneeling Samurai, Vivi reaches the palm of her hand out aside; a dark green glow sparkling as her scythe is conjured in her hands. Clutching the neck of her weapon with both hands, the skull girl gazes upon her reflection held within the side of its deathly blade as her expression deflate to a morning sadness. “Well...it was nice hanging with you.” Vivian states to the undead kneeling before her, raising the head of her weapon up high. “A pleasure, my dear friends.”

Just moments as the skeletal young lady was on the verge of striking the undead down, a familiar outcry pierces through the very air they breathe; Vivi stopping her weapon just inches away from Koruba’s neck as they all hear: “Stoooooooop!” Glancing in the direction of the demanding cry do all of them witness the orange skater sliding down the incline of ash, Vivi’s scythe slipping out from her palms as she watches her girl come to a halt before. “Mal...holy shit, you’re alive!” the skull girl happily exclaims.

“Koruba...Don’t do it. Don’t let it end like this.” “Why?...What else could there be left waiting for me here? No one else beyond you four would miss a walking corpse such as myself!” “You’re wrong!...There is still someone out there waiting for you...Who remembered you after all this time...And not a day goes by for them not wishing for you to be by their side again.” “Mally, what are you talking about?” Junji asks.

“In my first month of staying in Townsville, first time I met Biz, I wound up following her on the back of this giant turtle that sailed through the ocean. We ran into this elf guy who told us a story about a young prince who found the turtle on the brink of death and nursed her back to health. The prince had to let the turtle go, but not before he tasked the elf guardian to watch over her for him, promising her that they’ll meet again.” From the orange girl’s word does the undead Samurai lose grip upon his family’s blade, letting the weapon fall upon the dust as he looks to Mally astounded. “What?” “While we were on the turtles back, we found parasites that were feeding off of her sadness of that promise made so many decades ago. We worked with the elf to help get rid of them and remind the turtle that even with the boy gone, her memory of him still remained. Imagine my surprise when I realized out that the very same boy that the turtle loved dearly was still kicking around. Zool and Ravos would be so happy to realize that your still here, that you haven’t broken your promise to live and see them again.” “Z-...Zool...Ravos. The-...They’re still here?...They’re still alive?” “As alive as ever. I bet neither of them can’t wait to see you again. I can’t imagine what they would say realizing you defied death itself to keep your promise.”

The undead princes collapses upon hearing the rejoicing news of the turtle and guardian still roaming the world, sailing the vast seas, still among the living. Tears starts to drip down upon the steel of his family’s sacred blade as whimpered breath escape from his lunges, Koruba’s hands clutching tightly of the ashes beneath him as his tears stain the dust. “All this time...They’ve never forgotten about me...Of the promise I told them...And somewhere...in this great wide world…they still reside among the living. ...I’d never thought among the countless years, cursed to wander this mortal coil...That I would be thankful...happy...to be alive…” The rising sun finally fully comes out from the mountain horizon as the samurai’s overjoyed crying echo across the land; Jungi, Damian, and Vivi all left barely able to contain their own tears.

Getting all of it out, the undead prince rises from the dust with mystical blade in hand; the steel of his blade reflecting the morning sun as he stands tall once again. “I can’t thank all of you enough. Both for your aid in ending this curse upon my homeland, and for giving me hope of a promise not yet broken. If you all shall truly accept me among your ranks, then I shall gladly stand by your side. For the day I will uphold my sworn words to those I thought lost. From this day forth, I am at your beck and call, my friends.” A wide smile beams across the ghostly leaders cheek upon their undead friends acceptance; Damian reaching for the prince and placing his palm gently on his shoulder. “Welcome to the team.”

From beholding these touching revelation, Vivian wipes away the tear streak from her cheeks as she turns back to face the young girl responsible for turning what would’ve been a grim and bleak moment into something heartwarming and beautiful. Yet when she turns around, the skull girl find the orange lass herself standing right in front of her; Vivi nearly tumble back from the unexpected close up. Before another word could attempt to escape her, Mally wraps her arms around the girls waist and pulls her in; both of their lips meeting with one another among the warm embrace. Though at first flustered by the unexpected affection, Vivi slowly starts to calm as she recuperates her girls feelings, slithering both of her arms around Mally’s own torso as both of their weapons cross entwined between them. Junji and Damian look upon the two of them with warming grins as they gazing upon the new couple; the ashes beneath them flutter through the air, glistening in the morning sun.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The end of Koruba's arduous journey and the beginning of Mally and Vivi's blossoming relationship. Not to mention a new aspect of the skater's abilities revealed.

(For the record, Mally is 14 and Vivi's 15, wanna make that distinctly clear here.)

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope #princesscallyie

[ftmfandomfics]

What I think the male characters of mha smell like

Izuku: Greenery and that smell just before it starts raining. Like when you’re walking through the woods and you get a deep breathe of fresh air.

Bakugou: Nitroglycerin smells like burnt sugar (not caramel), and I think he would wear way too much expensive cologne in an attempt to cover it. It doesn’t work now he just smells like if a candy store and Aeropostale joined forces.

Kirishima: I think he smells like sweat and axe. It’s not that he doesn’t shower after working out, he just smells like sweat. You can decide if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Todoroki: I think hes worn the same expensive cologne since middle school. Probably something called ice lake or glacier. He also smells like ✨daddy issues✨

Kaminari: He smells like a Spencer’s. I can’t pin down what smell it is but specifically the body jewelry area. All of them smell the same. There must be like an air freshener they all use or something idk.

Tenya: Beef stew. I fully head cannon that he’s autistic and that beef stew is his safe food. This bitch smells like beef stew and control issues.

Shoji: Shoji is a minimalist so I don’t think he would use cologne or anything, but I think he would have an essential oil diffuser in his room so he smells like a mixture of herbs and citrus fruits.

Oijiro: I’ve seen other people say he smells like vanilla and I agree, but I also think he would have an earthy smell too. Like pine and vanilla, very unique but it smells amazing.

Tokoyami: Black pepper and papyrus, you can’t tell if he naturally smells that way or if it’s from the old books he reads. When dark shadow comes out the papyrus smell dissipates and is replaced by the smell of damp earth.

Sero: Dragons blood incense, Apollo axe body spray, and just a wiff of marijuana

Aoyama: He smells like setting powder, body glitter, and a VERY sweet perfume. Is almost hurts your nose.

Koda: He smells like his bunny, and bunnies smell similar to cats. I don’t mean their poop or anything, their fur. When he’s in his room he’s always holding or playing with his rabbit so he ends up smelling like it.

Sato: He smells like pastries which isn’t really surprising. But somehow he always smells like fresh baked bread and cherry pie. He even seems to radiate the warmth too.

Mineta: piss, desperation, and grape cough syrup.

Shinsou: Coffee and lavender, he also has an earthy musk that smells almost spicy.

Tetsutetsu: I know he uses old spice wolf thorn. Or like KrackenGaurrd or whatever. Something with a name that makes him feel manly 😭🥺

Inasa: He smells like old leather, parchment, and paprika. When he uses his quirk the paprika smells gets stronger. A very mild but spicy smell.

Mirio: He smells citrusy and warm, like fresh baked lemon bars. He also wears the bourbon body spray from bath and body works.

Tamaki: Tamaki doesn’t like drawing attention to himself so I don’t think he would purposely have a distinct smell, and you can’t really place his natural one. He smells like how it feels to take a deep breathe of cold air, it’s almost addictive.

All might: Clean linen and oak wood. I just think he would smell very fresh and warm. Like when you wake up before your alarm so you get to roll back over and go back to sleep.

Endeavor 🤢: Expensive cologne and ass. I don’t believe that this man wipes his ass, that’s gay. Also you can’t convince me that he showers purely because I don’t think he would fit. He thinks no one notices, they’re just too afraid to say anything.

Gang Orca: Orcas have really sensitive skin so I don’t think he could use any scented products, including cologne. But I feel like he might have a very faint smell of saltwater.

Aizawa: He wears a cologne that’s very spicy and musky but he won’t tell anyone what it is. He naturally has a very earthy smell that the cologne enhances.

Present Mic: Stay with me on this, I think he would wear a very sweet sugary perfume. I feel like Hizashi naturally smells very tangy and spicy, so adding that sugary smell makes him ever more irresistible.

Hound dog: I think he smells like a clean dog. He’s a person, just with a dog quirk, so he’s fully aware that dogs smell. He’s pretty self conscious honestly, he doesn’t smell he’s just really really worried he will.

Rock Lock: I think he smells like a cave. If you’ve ever been in one you know what I mean. That damp earthy smell with just a tiny hint of metallic or salt in the air. I’m not picking this just because of his name idk he gives me really strong but calm vibes.

Tiger: I can’t decide if he would wear cologne or not. If he did I think it’d be fruity or cinnamon. Maybe like spiced apple cider.

Keigo: Fried chicken. Not because of his quirk he just eats a lot of fried chicken. Also the type of guy to wear old spice with a really “epic” name.

Fatgum: He smells like the food court part of a carnival, and I don’t mean that as a bad thing. He smells really good, like a mixture of sweets, spices, and fried foods.

Tensei: I think he smells clean with a tiny bit of musk cologne as well. Doesn’t seem like the type of guy to wear really strong cologne.

Natsuo: He would also wear a cologne with a name like glacier because something like that would piss Enji off.

Overhaul: He smells like a doctors office. It’s not pleasant. Does he spray himself with disinfectant or does he just use so much that he smells like it?

Kendo: He smells like sweat but not body odor. He works for overhaul so I don’t think Kai would let him get away with smelling bad.

Tomura: The shiggy stans are gonna come for me, but he smells like a rotting fucking corpse. When’s the last time he showered? Also not to mention he’s an incel so he probably also smells like piss and cum. You know it’s the truth.

Touya: He also smells like rotting flesh but it’s not as bad. Fire kills bacteria. He can’t wear cologne because so much of his body is skin graphs, but maybe if he took care of them properly he at least wouldn’t smell like a morgue.

Twice: Ciggarettes and borderline pedophelia gin.

Spinner: Honestly I think he’s the only member of the league (other than Magne)that would actually have some type of self care. He doesn’t smell like anything, which in comparison to his partners is amazing.

I think I got everyone that people would want. I’ll do the girls later and I’m thinking of doing the atla and lok characters too. If I forgot someone you want just tell me and I’ll add them :).

#I absolutely hate endeavor but also ✨daddy✨😩🙌 #mha #bnha fanfiction #ftm fandom fics #headcanon #this is mostly a shitpost lmao

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Along Tides of Light - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - the rescue of Liara T'Soni as told by a very thirsty (and also dehydrated) asari maiden. https://www.patreon.com/posts/53939916 ===== The stasis field around her hums and buzzes. Unlike modern biotics or artificial barriers, it produces no smell of ozone. Too well tuned, perhaps. Too efficient. As perfect in the mechanism as it is in the spherical shape.

The krogan they sent with the geth stomps down the gangway, carrying something over his massive

shoulders. Purple droplets fall to the white deck before fading on the unstainable, self-healing alloy the Protheans use. It is still snow-white fifty thousand years after whatever caused this place to be abandoned.

He dumps his load with a dismissive grunt. The body of Emyni Jaega tumbles to the plating, the left side of her face a rotting, charred gap and her vivid teal skin almost black with discoloration and decay. Liara's friend. Her mentor in field work. "Files say this one had a krogan father," her tormentor huffs. "Guess that's why the bitch got a piece of me."

He taps a crater dug deep into the bone-plates of his forehead, one of the few parts of a krogan that never heals. Warpfire has ripped apart the bones atom by atom, down to the pale layers closest to the skin. A few centimeters more and the forelobes of his brain would have melted.

He kicks the body out of his way and it tumbles off the platform, landing with a thud somewhere below.

Don't cry, Liara reminds herself. Don't spit at him. Don't use your biotics. You can't spare the water.

"She did," Liara replies. "And her wife is ten times the krogan you are! After I pull your vast'kak from your spine, I will give them to her for a grave-trophy. She can chase down your pups by their sire's stink."

"Hah!"

He waggles a giant finger at her and pulls a hunk of charred varren meat out of a bag on his hip.

"I like you."

He keeps talking, but she's too exhausted to piece together the words.

=====

A bang that reverberates through the cavern jars Liara from the half-sleep she had been languishing in. Dragging her eyes open, she sees a pair of the pale gray geth slam into the barrier field clad in ice blue biotic fields. The machines twitch and chirp and struggle until two shots ring out, striking each through the optical housing on the head and stilling them instantly.

"Hello!" Liara calls out, not even sure she's making any sound dragging air over her aching tongue. "I'm trapped! I need help."

"Doctor T'Soni, I presume?"

With a hiss of recaptured air, the huntress removes her helmet.

"Goddess."

Rather than scaled crests and Serrice Guard tattoos or a House T'Soni diadem of rank, the helmet reveals a human woman with pink skin dusted with tawny speckles, eyes the dangerous green of tideglass shards in the moonlight and hair like a blast of wildfire: messy, red and curling.

"You're human."

The sob rushes up her chest and out her throat. She shakes her till her body aches.

"Commander," the quarian murmurs. "She's dehydrated. Badly. She's delirious like I would be after a suit failure."

"Place reeks of Garatog. Been stuck in the field a long time. Tough little pyjak," the krogan rumbles.

"Less chatter, more options. I need her out of that field and patched up."

=====

Hands pry her lips open--none too gently--and Liara thrashes, flinging what biotics she can. A stasis field clamps tight around her body, stilling her below the neck.

"Easy! I'm not going to hurt you. It's just water. Here."

Liara forces her eyes open despite the way the light stabs at them. Something thin and plastic pokes at her lips. A straw, she finally realizes, with the other end jammed into what looks like a huntress's ration tube except for the lack of the Asari Republic's sigil on the plastic. She takes it between her lips and lets her rescuer squeeze eezo-infused water into her aching mouth.

"Gotta go slow on the water, sorry. Don't want to shock your system."

Her focus ebbs and flows but when she can make herself see and think clearly, she finds herself staring into those dark green eyes and watching the damp curls of hair move along the sweat-slicked skin and wondering how long it would take to count every freckle and if freckles are permanent on humans, or if they can be sucked from the skin and Goddess, Liara, get a hold of yourself and wishing she could ignore how firm and steady the hand supporting her head is, like a pillar of stone even as it cradles her crests without a whisper of pressure on the inflamed tissue.

=====

Liara opens her eyes to the inside of an auto-medical pod. The clamshell is half open and the lights are dimmed--truly a mercy--and her vitals are displayed on one of the interior screens. On a chair next to her is a human woman with silver hair, a few tiny wrinkles around each eye, and a kind smile. She rests her gloved hand over Liara's and squeezes gently.

"You're a doctor?"

"Dr. Karen Chakwas, chief medical officer of the SSV Normandy."

"Thank you," Liara croaks. She doesn't have to be a medical doctor to know that her blood levels of eezo, sodium, and tungsten are more suited to a mummified corpse than an asari maiden.

The doctor's omnitool pings.

"And that's the commander asking for an update on you. I think I'll lie, give you a couple hours more rest. How's that sound?"

Liara can't manage to thank her before she falls asleep.

=====

The man reaches his hand out in a gesture Liara doesn't understand, shrugs, and pulls it back.

"Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, by the way. I'm the MCO here. Sorry. Marine Command Officer. Means I'm in charge of keeping all these fine men and women in the metal suits ready to go."

Liara hazards a sip of the liquid. It's bitter and slightly spiced and she can taste eezo in it. She smacks her lips, trying to place the flavor.

"Closest I could get to kaffe. Columbian from the commander's stash, cinnamon and some granulated honey."

She sets the cup down hurriedly.

"I...I couldn't possibly."

Kaidan chuckles.

"I'm pretty sure Skipper would kick my ass if I hadn't offered you the good stuff. Please, enjoy. For my safety if nothing else."

Kick his ass? Is that an idiom?

=====

An image flashes unwanted through Liara's brain. Sinew hard as silver-pink riverstone of the old quarries near Armali, carved into arms that lift her up with ease. Hips leaned forward, pinning her body against the cold steel of a bulkhead. Tongue dancing between the neck-folds, fingers pressing into the bundles behind the sil'atr and pinching at the tips, where the skin is firm and can take that abuse.

Making her body weep salt and eezo, running in rivers around her fingertips.

Would it be like an azure? Would Shepard want my fingers in it? My tongue? Goddess, would I even know how to pleasure her?

Heat crawls up her neck folds to her cheeks. She wishes the table wasn't so shiny because she can see her skin going violet with embarrassment.

#mass effect #liara t'soni #female shepard #shiara #liara x femshep #thirsty #asari

[bitch-of-the-wilds]

Dragon Age 2: Abridged

You start the game and as you're running 🏃‍♂️💨 away from the Zombi- I mean Darkspawn, the very first thing that happens is one of your 2 younger siblings fucking dies. ⚰️💀🥀(RIP Carver)

Then there's a dragon 🐉 which is awesome! But also: fuck, there's a dragon and you're level 1. But wait, now the dragon's an old lady who you swear sounds familiar. 🧙‍♀️ But she won't teach you how to become a dragon, so who cares.

Anyway, your mother cradles your sibling's cooling corpse to her chest and blames you for their death because you're the oldest and (somehow⁉️) you were supposed to protect them from the massive 5-ton ogre and stop it from crushing their rib cage like a gerbil in the hands of a vindictive toddler. 🐹

It's mentioned in passing that "At least they're with father now," and oh, yeah, guess your dad is dead too.

Surprise! Welcome to Dragon Age: 2 -The game where the plot is made up and your feelings don't matter. 🎆🎇

After you finally escape the fuckin 🍭🔥Candy Land from Hell🔥🍭: you're sold into servitude (see also: slavery) to pay your way into the city because your drunkard of an uncle has gambled away every penny of wealth your family ever had, including the house (and the dog too, but don't worry, there's DLC for that 🐕)

Then, after a year of smuggling and/or shady mercenary work for the dickheads that hold your leash, you're still broker than a ramen-filled Millenial with an undergrad degree in psychology, so you have to go into the Deep Roads to find your fortune.

Do you take your only remaining sibling with you into one of the most dangerous places in Thedas? Or do you leave them in Kirkwall, an almost equally as dangerous place, without even little ole' you there to protect them or your aged, decrepit, spiteful mother (who still kinda hates you for letting your sibling die)?

📱VOTE NOW ON YOUR PHONES! 📱

The kicker is that NO MATTER WHICH CHOICE YOU MAKE, you still lose your sibling! They're taken by the Chantry, (the ⭕Circle/⛑️Templars) if you leave them at home, and if you take them with you, they fucking DIE.

Oh, UNLESS you brought that one edgy, possessed, fugitive Gray Warden you met in the ass end of Darktown with you. Then they don't die. Instead, they themselves are given to the Gray Wardens to try and save them from 🤎😩The Taint 😩🤎 who then disappear back into the Deep Roads for 3 fucking years. IN FACT you don't even know if your fucking sibling LIVES or DIES until Shit City winds up on fucking 🔥FIRE🔥 and they just happen to run into you while you're up to your tits in body organs.

And also that one edgy Gray Warden rebel, Anders -who you actually kinda like, even if he is a whiney bitch, happens to stay on with you because you helped him kill his ex boyfriend (*Micky Mouse voice* it's a special tool that will help us later!🎁)

Oh, and let's not forget that Grand Adventure where your ancient ass mom 🤶 is kidnapped by a Coo-Coo for Cocoa Puffs serial murderer and then canabalized into a semi-living sex doll 🧟‍♀️(that smells a bit like formaldehyde under the stench of rotting old lady flesh) just because she happens to look a little bit like the dude's dead FWB/wife. 👩‍❤️‍👨

So, when you finally fucking find her -buried under a cesspool of blood, shit and demons (where else?)- you obviously have to kill the dork-ass, serial-killing, LITERAL MOTHERFUCKER who took her.

But OOPS! His blood magic🩸 was the only thing keeping her build-a-bitch body alive, so naturally it disperses as he death-rattles on the floor.🤮

She only lives long enough to say her last regret is leaving you alone in 🗡️ Murder City™️ 🗡️ by yourself before she fucking DIES IN YOUR ARMS in front of your sad ass friends and probably your love interest.

Speaking of which, I hope you didn't dick-down the pirate 🏴‍☠️ then fuck around and find out you caught feelings and shit, cause she straight up leaves your ass to skip town on bail with a Super Special Book. 📖

And god forbid you romanced Fenris because his broody ass just ups and leaves you after a mediocre as fuck one night stand, leaving you with Lyium-blue balls. 🧪 Oh, did I mention that it took 3 fuckin YEARS of courting to get him to into bed? 🛌 But at least he stays with you, helping kill bitches and whatnot, casually twisting that little knife in your heart an inch at a time because he has enough emotional baggage 🎒👜🧳🛍️ to sink a fucking naval armada to the bottom of the Boeric ocean. 🆘⛵🛥️🛳️⛵🚢🛥️🆘

But the fun doesn't stop there! No, no! Because while you may have lost your entire family -i.e. your mother, father and both baby siblings- and potentially your love interest 💔 (You can keep your shitty drunken uncle tho lmfao), that doesn't matter cause we're not done with our field trip through hell just yet kiddies. 🚎 Beep beep, bitch.

So, what's next on 💥Apocalypse Bingo?💥 Oh, that's right, you gotta stop the invading force of massive roid-raging dragon-people with kick ass horns, and their leader just decapitated the king👑 in front of you.

Also they burned 🗑️Trash Town🗑️ to the ground and you have to pick of the pieces of your shitty city. Again.

And after you've done that, after you've done what all the king's horses 🐎🐎🐎 and all the king's men🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ couldn't fucking do, you're awarded the title of Champion because no good deed goes unpunished!

Yay! You're the savior of Shit City! Hooray. 💩

✨🌟⭐ But wait! There's more! ⭐🌟✨

That one Glowy Red bitch you've seen around the Gallows when you're not ogling Cullen's noodle hair is pissy at Skeletor the Secret Blood Mage. Time to play peace keeper.

It doesn't go well. They're both still assholes. 🤷🤷‍♂️🤷‍♀️

Oh but, remember Anders? The edgy Gray Warden dude? The one who hears voices in his head, but swears it's just his 👻☄️Spirit Friend☄️👻 The one who you kinda like?

He needs to go grocery shopping. For... cookie ingredients. 🍪

Here's the list: 📜

-Mushrooms 🍄

-Literal, actual shit 💩

-Sulfur 💨

-Amonium Nitrate 🔥

-Other shit, this time metaphorical🚫💩

Okay, weird request, right? But he did help you kill some hoes and give you the map to the Deep Roads which may or may not have gotten your sibling killed, so you owe him one, right? And, well, maybe you kinda like this edgy weirdo who occasionally turns blue when he's mad 👺, so you're willing to do him a solid.

Well, turns out that trip to Kirkwalmart wasn't for ingredients to Anders' fav cookies.

It was actually

⚡💥💣☢️A FUCKIN NUKE☢️💣💥⚡

which he uses to blown up the church ⛪ which happens to be in the city 🌇 your pathetic ass spent 6 years Humpty Dumpty-ing🍳 killing a few hundred innocent people and probably at least one or two dogs🐶💀🐶 so either way he's a fuckin dildo.

Oh, and that kicks off World War Thedas, and the FBI 🚔 thinks you're responsible, so you have to leave your Shit City and lay low.

But you got to meet Varric so it was worth it. 👍

Probably.

#shit post #dragon age #da #da2 #dragon age 2 #fenris #isabela #varric #anders #hawke #carver #bethany #mine #my post #funny #kirkwall crew #flemmeth

[kd-holloman]

Good evening, everyone! I bring you mur. MURDER. That’s right, have a very R-rated short story for you all. I’ve never written anything quite like this before, but I’ve been listening to a lot of true crime podcasts and in the spirit of spooky-season I wanted to write something about the scariest creatures of all: humans. I will tag everyone that seemed interested in my original post about it at the end, but PLEASE read the warnings before you decide to read further. 

Content Warning(s): Language, Violence, Blood, and graphic depictions of murder. 

Stupid fucking April. 

The day I married her, I’d  promised to love her through richer and poorer, sickness and health. I vowed  to provide for her, to keep a roof over her head, and food in her belly. And how did she repay me? By not ironing my fucking pants. 

Her life wasn’t that hard. She had to take care of the house and make sure the kids didn’t kill themselves. 

And she couldn’t even be bothered to iron my fucking slacks.

“Where are we going?” Jaime, or Jenny, or Jessica asked. She reeked of stale cigarettes and dollar store vanilla body spray. “We’re, like, out of town. I thought you said we were going to get fucked up.” 

I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel so hard they ached. Jenna didn’t need more meth. She needed to stop asking questions. “Do you want this shit or not?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“Then, shut the hell up and stop asking questions.” 

She scoffed and sat up a little straighter in her seat. Her bony arms held over her front to ward her off from the chill of the air conditioner. She watched as we passed below a giant sycamore, a gangly branch draped with Spanish moss stretched over the rutted goat-path that led to the cabin. “It’s kind of creepy out here. You’re not going to murder me out here, right?” 

I smiled in spite of myself. “Yeah, it’s pretty creepy.” 

I pulled the truck up in front of the leaning cabin. It had been in my family for generations. My grandfather had brought my father here when he was a boy. My dad used to tell me stories about how he and his old man would spend weekends during the summer catching catfish in the swamp and hunting squirrels that jumped from the boughs of the red maple trees. 

By the time I was old enough to go to camp, the cabin’s roof had caved in and my dad hadn’t had the money to fix it. The inclimate weather had rotted the floorboards, and a family of raccoons had made themselves at home in the walls. 

As nice as it would be to restore the shack to its former glory, I didn’t go to camp for the cabin, anyway. All of my business was done in the barn. 

“What the fuck. Do you live here?” Jasmine asked as she squinted through the darkness. 

I sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

I turned on my flashlight to see the overgrown path that led back to the crooked barn. Getting struck by a cottonmouth would put a damper on my evening plans. 

I pushed the barn door open, gestured for Jeanine to enter, and followed behind her. 

There was no electric in the rickety old barn, but the propane lanterns I had did the job just fine. I needed just enough light to see. I could feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through my body. I had to fight to keep my hands steady as I hung the last lantern on its rusty nail. 

Jill stood in the middle of the barn, shivering in her stained tank top. “It’s cold.”

I couldn’t feel a chill in the air, but that didn’t mean much. I was starting to sweat beneath my thrift store threads. “I’ll light the woodstove.” 

I lit the woodstove and let Jenny try to warm herself by it in favor of inspecting my workbench. It was just as I’d left it about a year ago. All of my tools were in their assigned spots. I hovered my fingers above them: pliers, saw, bolt cutters. 

I picked up the hunting knife and ran my thumb along the blade. It had been dulled by use and time. The steel winked in the orange lamplight. It reminded me of the time my dad had given me my first pocket knife.

“Remember, son,” he said seriously as he held the folded pocket knife between his thumb and forefinger, “a dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.” 

At the time, I hadn’t cared. I had only wanted to take my knife and whittle sticks down to sharp points. Now that I was older, I understood what he meant. A sharp knife left clean cuts. It did less damage to the tissues around the blade. Wounds caused by sharp knives were easier to heal than dull ones.

“Do you have the stuff or what?” Jeannine asked. 

Again with the fucking questions. I held the knife down by my side. “Come here.”

She hesitated at the harshness of my tone. 

It was too late for sensibility. She should have thought about before she’d gotten into my truck. 

“Get your ass over here!”  

One step. 

April should have iron my fucking slacks. 

Two steps. 

If my slacks hadn’t been wrinkled Leslie Wilford wouldn’t have looked at me like that. Like I was a rat that had scurried from the gutter. 

Three. 

This dumb bitch, Julia, Josephine, Jane--what ever the fuck her name was--should have never gotten in my truck.

Four. 

And I couldn’t stand the stink of her cloying vanilla perfume. 

Fury had blood roaring in my ears. The hunting knife shook in my hand. When Juliet was close enough to reach, I grabbed her with my left arm to hold her steady and jammed the blade into her gut, below her sternum. It took a little more force than I anticipated. The first cut always took me by surprise. 

Her expression went from cautious to stunned. Her eyes widened, her bony fingers wrapped around my wrist. She tried to pry my hand free, but years of sacrificing her meals for drugs had left her weak. 

I pushed harder. The blade scraped against bone. 

A sound pulled its way from her lungs, in a nearly-sensual moan.

I yanked the knife free.

Blood bloomed on the front of her tank top, dark and spreading. It looked like one of those tests psychiatrist gave their crazy patients. What does this look like to you?

It looked like release.

I stabbed her again. 

Her body lurched with the force of the impact. She staggered back a step or two. 

 I yanked it free and thrust the knife back into her body. The handle was slick with blood, warm and wet against my palm. 

Her knees gave out and I let her fall to the floor. 

I knelt down over her, knees pinning her arms to the cool dirt below. 

She opened her mouth, a trickle of crimson ran from the corner, staining her pale skin like ink. She tried to speak, couldn’t, closed her mouth, and then opened it again. She looked like a fish that had just been yanked from the stream. “Please,” she gurgled, “stop.” It was such a feeble sound. So frail. So tragic. 

I reached up and pressed my thumb to her cheek. It left a bloody smear behind. I leaned down so I knew she could hear me when I murmured, “No.” 

As I felt her blood sticking to my hands, a primal force overcame me. It had tasted blood and wouldn’t be sated until the life had fully drained from her eyes. 

I stabbed her again, and again, and again. Blood splattered my face, hot and wet. I could taste the copper of it on my lips. 

Well after she took her last breath, I pulled the knife free for a final time and dropped my aching arms to my sides. While I caught my breath I took a few moments to bask in my adrenaline-laced euphoric high.

Humans were bound to this lifeless rock, doomed to work nine-to-five jobs they hated until their very essence ran dry. Killing was the only thing that made me feel alive.

                                                 ###

Dawn was just breaking by the time I pulled into my driveway, exhausted and sated. I got out of the truck, balancing a box of muffins and coffee while I tried to work up the energy to pretend like I hadn’t spent all night dismembering and spreading a corpse through the swamp.

“Good morning, Rob!” 

“Good morning, Luanne,” I greeted. 

“What are you out doing so early this morning?” She asked, her schnauzer sniffing around her plushy pink slippers. 

Luanne was a sweet lady, but I really fucking hated it when people asked me too many questions. “Oh, I just wanted to get April and the kiddos something special for breakfast.” I held up the box of muffins as if it explained everything. “Would you like a muffin?” 

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” She waved me a way with an arthritic hand, “I can’t. I don’t want to mess up my sugar too much. Have a nice day, Rob!”

“Take care.” I smiled until I watched her take her dog inside. Then, I went up the steps to my own front door. I mentally prepared myself to greet my family. I was going to have to be my best self for them and for the students at Van Buren Academy. 

After all, their vice principal needed to look his best. 

And I would. 

As long as April remembered to iron my fucking slacks. 

Tag List: @lordkingsmith, @howdy-writes, @lanawritesalittle, @pertinax--loculos, @kirsten-is-writing, @heytherelindsay, @lukawriting, @alicewestwater, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @baconkat02, @bottichelli

#short story #writerblr #tw violence #tw blood #tw murder #tw language

[sp00kworm]

Wayward

Pairing: Michael Myers (Rob Zombie Version) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Gore, Horror, Blood, Murder, Injury Description. 

A/N: Just a exploration piece for RZ Michael because I got bored. Hope you enjoy!

---

Blood felt calming. Michael twisted his knife deeper, watching the blood spurt from the wound in the young man’s stomach. His mouth opened in a twisted red smile, pink spit and blood dripping over his pale skin. He was clammy now, his skin going cold as Michael watched the blood ooze around his knife. The motion was repeated. He watched the blood bubble on the victim’s lips this time as he twisted the wound open. It was like watching a big cat rake its claws along a zebra. The blood oozed where he cut. Boredom itched along his spine quickly. The reactions weren’t knew to him. The man died slowly, and in pain, bleeding from the three wounds to his belly as he choked on his own blood flowing up from his stomach. Blood squelched between his fingers as he squeezed the knife tight. It dripped down his wrists when he raised his hand to have a look. Boredom. The itch subsided for now. The thrill of the kill faded into the back of his mind as he took a deep inhale, and held his breath, looking at the rotting pumpkins sat on the porch. Candy corns were rotting in the grass under his feet. Halloween had come to an end. So had his search.

 Boo wasn’t who he remembered. His sister wasn’t who he remembered. Laurie Strode. He didn’t understand it. He understood time had passed, but for her to not remember him. It didn’t sit well. Then he felt the bullet hit his shoulder, and it was like cold water was dropped on his head. Everything was somehow clear after the bullet. After his sister rejected him. Just like everyone else. Then the urge had reared its ugly head. The rats seemed a lifetime away when he dropped the victims on their asses, blood spurting from ugly wounds. Michael loomed over the body, coveralls sprayed with blood across his chest, and boots caked with mud and festering candy corn pieces. The man was quiet on the grass now, the blood had already popped on his lips, the air having left him while he was stood thinking. He regretted the choice, pushing the steel toe of his boot into the body’s ribs before he looked at his knife. With a quick stroke, he wiped the blood on the sleeve of his coveralls and pushed the knife into the deep pocket.

 Michael left the body in the grass and turned to the house, looking at the light illuminating the windows as a figure appeared in the window, freshly showered. He watched her breasts press against the cold glass as she opened the window. Nothing. The itch didn’t return. The body in the grass was her lover perhaps? Not that he cared. Michael took hold of his arm and dragged the corpse towards the stairs, the head thumping against the wood with sickening cracks as he ascended them. The front door swung open with a creak as he dragged the body in. Blood was left in a track as he tugged the male to the stairs and tucked him up against the case. With a soft breath, he took his knife out again and sliced at the skin, cutting a jagged smile before he removed the eyelids and coloured the body’s cheeks with blood.

“Honey? Is that you?” The woman called from the top of the stairs, dressed in a sheer kimono, tying the waist with a smirk, her wet hair dripping water down her neck. Her smile soon turned to horror as she padded down the stairs towards his creation. Her hands flew to her face as she caught sight of her lover, and she screamed an ugly howl, right from the depths of her lungs.

 Michael watched from the shadows of the entry way. Her frightful eyes glanced to the door just before he slammed it closed. A ghostly white face peered at her. Her second scream caught in her throat as he walked after her, long strides making two of her own as she fled to the kitchen. Michael soon got bored of the ear-piercing shrieks that followed her slipping feet. With a snap of his fingers, clenched tight in a fist, he caught the woman by her hair. She gasped only for a moment before he pushed his knife into her back and watched the blood spurt forwards and back, coating his hands once again in a fresh slick of crimson. She died a much less dramatic death, spasming quietly in his arms, bloodied fingers covering her mouth. The killer dropped her, fingers unlocking and snapping back shut by his side as she fell with a great hump, face pressed into the wood, spit pooling out of her slack, dead mouth. The itch was gone. The thrill was receding. She exhaled the dead air from her lungs before finally going silent and dying. Boring. He listened to the silent house and moved towards the television screen in the lounge. A bloodied finger pressed the power on. An old movie played.

 Michael watched it for a moment, head tilting with curiosity as a tank was blown into smithereens. His stomach gurgled and twisted before he realised, he was, in fact, hungry. The Shape turned and walked towards the kitchen, stepping over the woman’s body as he went, shoes thumping as he glared at the fridge, opening it with bloody fingers wrapped around the chrome handle. Michael leaned over to peer inside and dragged the ham from its paper wrapping before eyeing the bottle of milk. He pulled that free from the door as well before looking at the ham in his hand. With a soft breath, he realised the mask was still in place. Moonlight danced through his hair as he dared to reach up and pull the mask free, dirty blond hair hanging around his shoulders. He tucked the mask in his pocket before he took his food back in hand and went back to the movie. The male didn’t stop to catch a glimpse of himself as he returned to the television screen. He knew he was ugly, inside and out, he didn’t need to be reminded of it by some reflective surface. As he stood, watching the old film, Michael chewed pieces of bloodied ham, slick fingers holding the milk bottle by the neck, taking occasional sips as he waited for the next urge. The next impulse wouldn’t be too far away, of that he was sure.

 His feet moved him before the urge did. The milk gurgled with bloodied ham in his stomach as he moved to the kitchen, turning the faucet on to wash the dark, dried bit of flaking blood from his hand. They came clean and he remembered vaguely to wipe the taps down. He went out of the backdoor with a rag in his hand, leaving heavy bloodied footprints behind him, brain not thinking, not caring if he was chased. So, he walked. Michael pulled the mask over his face as he roamed back to the pavement, stalking over the heavy stone slabs with a predator’s purpose, moving from shadow to shadow, a pale face among the dark as it neared two o’clock in the morning. He passed Haddonfield’s town clock and peered at the time before moving on, past the preschool and the small, town park. The Shape walked, and strode, and moved onwards, fingers tapping against where the knife blade was stashed against his thigh. The blood tracks had stopped following him long ago. A noise caught his attention to his right, just as he turned towards a back alley along the back of the town strip. Most of the few bars were open. He listened in as music blared but also as the sound of skin slapped against the pavement.

 “Stupid bitch!”

 Michael stopped by the dumpster, and turned on his heels, moving to peer back at the commotion. A very drunk looking bar attendee stumbled to right himself against the brick wall of the bar, stringing together poorly insulting curses as a bartender struggled to get themselves upright. The crowd returned inside, unwilling to listen to the commotion nor intervene. Michael felt himself breathe heavily as he watched a fist come upwards, his fingers twitching when it missed and collided with the brick by their head. He breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Then he reached for his knife.

 You cursed your luck as the man stumbled, howling about one of his broken fingers from the miscalculated strike. He followed as you scrambled upwards and moved away, back towards the dumpsters in the alley. He followed, swaying heavily as he slurred insults.

“Bet you’re one of those fuckin’ homos, ain’t you?” He declared, the clarity in his eyes non-existent.

“Even if I was, its none of your fucking business!” You retorted. Watching his nostrils flare, you regretted the provocation and turned to dodge a heavier blind punch, watching him stumble into the dark alley, his body thumping as it collided with the dumpsters.

“Fuckin’…” He cursed violently as you watched, arms crossed.

“Last time I offer to help anyone.” You promised with venom as you clutched your bruised shoulder and turned to leave him to choke on his own vomit in the alley.

The drunk grappled himself up on the dumpster, “Don’t you fuckin’ turn your back on me!” He warned as heavy breathing sounded behind him.

 A figure loomed as a dark shadow, the white Halloween mask glowing around shadowed blue eyes as dirty hands snatched the man around. A great hand grappled him by his neck, spinning the drunk around, smothering his choked cries with a powerful grasp on his throat. The figure’s fingers went white, the grip tight around the throat, breathing heavy as he then grabbed the drunk tighter and thrashed him back and forth, slamming the back of his head violently into the brick. Crack. The bone sounded in wet thumps against the wall until the drunk’s eyes rolled and he spasmed in the grip, blood dripping down his neck as the white masked killer dropped him in a pile, hands slick from the kill. You felt fear catch your tongue, and with it, your voice. The heavy breathing softened as the white mask tilted up to look at you, red hands clenching by the killer’s sides.

“What the fuck?” You asked the air as the killer looked at the body and back to you. He twitched, shoulders moving as though he was shaking something off himself. He didn’t move towards you. A blue eye glinted under the yellow streetlight before the Shape of a man stalked away around the back of the building.

 You managed to make a noise as you scrambled back into the bar, scrambling for the phone to report what had just happened.

 Michael watched from the back window, looking at the hysterical tears dripping down your nose in your manager’s office as he offered you a coat and a drink. The sirens made him move, but he found the strange urge in his mind to see you again.

#michael myers x reader #michael myers #Halloween 2007 #halloween #rob zombie halloween #halloween movie #halloween 1978 #michael myers x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

[sloppysecondsoogawooga]

Lords of Balls

It was a long unfulfilling day recording again and Euronymous had finally caved for the night. He decided to head back to his store Hellvette so grab some drinks and have some peace and quiet. The store was his one comfort and the place he felt he could really be himself, especially in the stores basement. There it was a paradise for all who were in the Black Metal scene. They all enjoyed spending long sweaty nights talking about music and how they wanted to burn down churches.

This particular night, however Euronymous felt as if something was amiss. He noticed the lights for the store were on despite having closed it down before leaving to record. "How strange" he mumbled to himself seeing if the door was unlocked. It opened without any force; which made Euronymous even more concerned. "Whoever is in here, just leave and I won't press charges!" He yelled with a little quiver in his voice. His throat felt tight as tried to reach for something to use as a weapon. Thankfully the walls of his shop were lined with fake medieval weaponry, so he plucked a long sword off the wall he could barely hold up.

Slowly and surely he was turning the corners he came across an old picture on the wall of him with his ex best friend Pelle. Pelle unfortunately died at his own hands years ago and it has been weighing heavy on Euro for a long time. Wishing he could have told him how he really felt about Pelle. Unfortunately, some words are better left unspoken. The noises started getting louder so Euro popped out of his deep thought and noticed it was all coming from the basement. He managed to muster out "you had better show yourself intruder!!!" choking on his words out of fear. His palms got sweatier making the sword harder to hold.

As he started to walk down the stairs to the basement he lost his grip on the sword "FUCK!!!" he yelped as he practically ran down to get the sword. As he made it to the bottom he came face to face with these "intruders". They were actually his friends from his band Mayhem.

"Varg? Hellhammer? Attila? What are you guys doing here!? You could have told me you were going to come back to the store without scaring me!" He said getting red from anger and embarrassment.

"Sorry Euronymous, we just didn't want to tell you about this..... it's something we thought you'd you'd ashamed of" Atilla said meekly, staring down at his shoes and blushing.

"What could you possibly be doing that I'd be upset abo-" before he could finish his sentence he noticed that his friends, his band mates, his longtime confidantes were standing pantsless and all erect.

"Listen Euro, this is something we do to keep eachothother company, you wouldn't understand" Varg said annoyed that they were all being interrupted of their special time. Hellhammer staying quiet as to not add to the frustration.

"You know I hate being left out of bonding time Varg!!" Euronymous said with tears in his eyes

"Well maybe if you stop being a little bitch and show us your cock we would invite you" Varg said laughing

There was a sudden pause in that basement. The usual feeling of friendship and joy that was shared down there was shattered. Euronymous felt like he had been betrayed. "I guess ill just leave...." he said slowly turning to go back up the stairs.

"Wait!" Hellhammer said getting up and running to Euronymous. "Maybe we can try it... just this once?" He leaned in to a shocked and flustered Euro who had never even considered viewing his friends in such a way. "We are ALL friends after all, maybe we can make this work" Attila added also approaching Euro; putting his hand on his shoulder and rubbing it a little. Varg seemingly agitated then approached Euro asking "are you sure you'll be able to handle this?" Slowly reaching his hand down Euro's jeans.

Euronymous slowly growing in size becoming obviously erect to his friends felt as if maybe this was his time to form a stronger bond with these men. He leaned into Varg with the scent of lust in his breath "why don't you just kiss me already you fool". Just then Varg grabbed Euro's face and then they begun the most sloppy and passionate kiss anyone had seen in that basement. Hellhammer began down on his knees starting to suck on Varg's large uncut meaty cock. It was the most beautiful cock he had ever sucked (and he has sucked MANY). Atilla started on on opposite side and began to dive face first into Varg's clean and freshly bleached asshole. Licking it up and down and taking it all in as if he was taking communion. Euro slowly shedding his leather jacket, bullet belt 1, bullet belt 2, studded belt, fingerless gloves, and leather vest while him and Varg were still exchanging sloppy tongue filed smooches. Varg was getting closer than expected since his two friends had him covered front and back.

"Enough!!" Varg said almost too angrily.

"Whats wrong boss?" Atilla said confused, dick still in his greedy jaws.

"I think its time we give Euro some undivided attention" he said smirk across his face.

Everyone got up and moved Euronymous to the couch where they sat him down much to his surprise. Slowly peeling off the last of his clothes. Varg taking care of Euro's pants specifically

"I want to be the one to taste his virgin dick" Varg announced to the others, firm and powerful. Underneath Euro's well worn Tangerine Dream shirt was his rippling sexy abs, sweating with anticipation for what was to come (authors note: everyone in this is jacked and has a 9 inch peepee)

Soon Euronymous and everyone were naked and greasy from all the sweat, Varg now grasping Euro's unfortunately cut penis slowly and surely stroking it with a firm loving grip. Atilla was next to Euronymous kissing him as Hellhammer began eating Atilla's ass. Unfortunately Atilla was less clean than Varg so Hellhammer had found some toilet paper crumbles in his hairy chamber of delight. Euronymous was overcome with bliss as his closest friends were all there enjoying the taste of eachothers manhood.

Euronymous getting closer and closer to the brink of orgasm as Varg bopped his head up and down his wet ass cock. Then in that moment he suddenly shot his load in an unsuspecting Varg's unprepared mouth. He spat Euro's creamy kids out onto the floor "Euronymous it appears because you were the first to cum. You will be the first to get fucked" Everyone in the room suddenly filled with both fear and excitement.

"V-Varg kun I have never had anyone take my anal virginity. I'm scared" Euronymus said blushing pulling his head away from everyone. Varg then moving his head back holding his face with tender affection "Don't worry Euro chan it'll only hurt for a moment, I'll be gentle I promise" he said as he pet Euro's definitely real pitch black hair.

Euronymous knew this was the right thing to do, and the most exciting thing he could have done, he then assumed the position, doggy style on the couch, filled with anticipation for his best friends throbbing hard dick in his tight little man hole. Varg then wetting up his fingers to stimulate Euro's hole, which opened without any issue. "I see someone is excited" he said with sarcastic bliss

Euro was embarrassed and blushed as cherry Blossom petals fell behind him for atmosphere. Then varg started thrusting his beautiful shimmering uncut member up and down Euro"s entire ass before putting it inside. There was a sudden "EEP!" from Euronymous, who wasn't prepared, but as soon as the head of Varg's dick was in he slowly moved it back and forth. Euro warming up to the sensation with pure joy began making small noises to show how much he enjoyed it. Hellhammer and Atilla were 69ing in the corner as this was going on, but kept watching to see when they could join in.

Varg and Euronymous were in ecstacy as Euro's thick juicy ass backed onto Vargs giant schlong. In that moment Hellhammer and Atilla decided it was time to form a "human centipede" if you will. Atilla first to insert his dick into Varg, then Hellhammer into Atilla. They had all perfected this technique and now everyone was fucking everyone. Then suddenly they began hearing someone walking down to the basement. They all paused their sweaty pile and then. A face they didn't expect showed up.

"P-Pelle!?" Euro shouted!!!!

It was Pelle! But, a Zombie. Pelle groaning and moaning because he was a zombie pulled down his mostly disintegrated pants to reveal his 10 inch oozing zombie cock. Everyone was in shock, but Euronymous ushered him to come over and put his pimply zombie dick in his mouth. Pelle staggered over, left arm falling off as he walked over in front of Euro. Who then put his rotting corpse member in his mouth which he did with delight.

Everyone was getting back into the groove. Grunting and moaning while they were inside eachother having the most erotic experience anyone could have. It went on for what felt like hours, But then everyone almost magically started to get closer at the same time.

"Ah I'm getting close" Varg said

"Same" Hellhammer and Atilla said

Euronymous couldn't say anything, but he basically said yes, and Pelle just groaned loudly insinuating Euronymous's glug glug 5000 was really good.

In that moment everyone suddenly burst into eachother. There was so much cum it was everywhere. They couldn't stop ejaculating it was an unending stream of what could have been children. It was the most intense orgasm any of them had ever had. Even Pelle burst into Euro with his maggot filled zombie jizz which Euro filled up on and swallowed in its entirety. Everyone collapsed to the floor ans couch exhausted, but happy.

"Well Euro, I guess you were fun to "stab" at after all" Varg said breathless. Euronymous blushing and happy "yeah we should do this another time after band practice" he said breathy

Hellhammer and Atilla were cuddling and not paying attention bc they were boyfriends.

Pelle was on the floor dead again and starting to stink up the room. Nobody cared.

After that they decided to bury Pelle again and burn down a church. They all lived happy fulfilling lives the end.

[orsuliya]

Let it be known that I have fallen to the forces of Chaos. Which mean that after many, many years of relative sanity I decided to catch up with the recent developments in the Warhammer 40.000 universe.

Now, I loved that bloody, golden, full-of-skulls, grimdark thing once upon a time, but it did go a bit stale, what with the Corpse Emperor God Emperor of Mankind rotting on his golden throne, the Inquisition doing... inquisitiony things and the hero-planet of Cadia still standing against any odds. So I bailed. Okay, to be honest, I bailed but for one guilty pleasure, namely watching the glorious If The Emperor Had A Text-To-Speech Device series. Which so does not count!

And then I heard the Ultramarines chant once again and remembered all the glories of soup. (If you listen to it long enough and know Russian, you too shall be enlightened. For all non-Russian speakers, it really does sound as if the lyrics talk about cooking some amazing soup and then eating it. It’s... a thing.) Wait, I said to myself, they released a Roboute Guilliman figure, right? I saw that, not like you can miss it with it’s... very subtle aesthetics. And I sure saw an amazing figure of Magnus the Red (who, let it be known, didn’t betray anyone, oh, and Leman Russ is a bitch). So are the Primarchs back or something, I asked the Corpse Emperor God Emperor. There was no answer. So I went to do some research.

And once I did, I actually picked up a WH40K novel (or two). Again. And let me tell you, those are usually a dredge to get through. A very grimdark, testosterone-dripping, wordy, ridiculously epic dredge. *shudders* Some are readable. Some... are not.

Anyway, the ones I did pick up were the Dark Imperium series first two entries, because my beautiful Smurf Boy Roboute Guilliman is back and was there ever any other choice? Rhetoric question of course. If you are still reading and have no idea whom am I talking about, a quick recap:

Once upon a time there was a universe that was so ridiculously grimdark that it wasn’t even funny. Although sometimes it was grimdark in very funny ways. Humanity spread throughout the Galaxy, then got hit hard with Bad Things, mostly courtesy of themselves. Then an egotistical gold-loving Immortal Man With A Plan decided to unfuck the Galaxy. In order to do that he made - after some rather disastrous demo versions - an army of GMO-supersoldiers, using genetic material harvested from twenty vat-grown fetuses of super-superhumans. Those fetuses? His so-called sons, the Primarchs. Who got baby-napped by the powers of Chaos and thrown into space. Where they grew up into killing-machines, each one on a grimdark planet of his own, until Daddy Emperor picked them up and sent them a-crusading, that is a-conquering the Galaxy for Humankind. Never paid any child-support, the bastard. Anyway, they did... reasonably well with this whole Galaxy-conquering thing. And then things happened, which ended in half of the Primarchs going full Daemon, the other half fucking off in a non-constructive manner and into unknown direction, one of them becoming a sainted martyr and the Emperor becoming a skeleton and sitting on his Golden Throne for the next 10.000 years. Ah, no, sorry, one Primarch tried to put things into order, but the only thing he got as his reward was his Daemonic Bro’s sword to the neck... and spending the next 10.000 years as a bloody tourist attraction. And that was Roboute Guilliman, The Supposedly Boring And Weak One. Meanwhile, the Galaxy went to hell by the way of religious fanatics, xeno incursions and Chaos shenanigans.

After years of marinating it its own sauce the WH40K universe finally started to move. And move fast! The hero-planet of Cadia got smashed to pieces, Warp-rifts basically tore the galaxy... also to pieces and things got so bad that even the space elves decided to help. Which they actually did (!) by getting that tourist attraction of a Primarch off his non-golden throne by the way of technological fuckery and death magic. Accidentally they chose to revive the one Primarch who was actually good at state-building and logistics, and unlike most of his brothers was actually sane to start with. 

Well, now he’s still sane. And, which is rather new, deliciously bitchy. See, he returned to life, stood up from his bier-chair, massacred an entire army of Khornites by himself, went to talk to his Dead Emperor Dad, got hit in the face by Daddy Issues, massacred another army, got into a screaming match with his Evil Brother, forced useless supergolden supersoldiers to actually do something after 10k years on sitting on their asses, pulled some well-marinated super-supersoldiers from the basement of some creepy tech-person and went a-crusading. Only his version of a-crusading was suspiciously similar to taking a stroll with his closest buddies and stabilizing the realm. Only it took longer that six months in this case. 112 years long, to be precise. At the end of which he went back to his own his own province... in order to defend it from a Chaos incursion courtesy of the local Plague God and another Evil Brother.

That’s tough, buddy, one might say and they would be completely right. What gets me about this plotline is not the novelty of somebody actually doing some good on a galaxy-wide scale and being a decent person about it (which by local standards means not killing one’s own and choosing to actually heal the sick instead of bombing their planets from the orbit). I knew that would happen the moment I saw which Primarch got revived. What gets me is how internally bitchy the guy gets about it, although in a rather stoic way. And I don’t blame him. If I was a part of a group project, did about half of the work by myself, saw that project implode by no fault of my own, then managed to salvage some of it, then chose to sacrifice myself to save that small salvaged scrap, hoping that everything would turn out okay once the new team took over... and then woke up to find that project utterly fucked in ways thay I could have never imagined with myself being the only competent project manager around, I would be bitchy too.

Not to mention that poor guy has to deal with 24/7 physical pain as well as the realization that Big Emperor Daddy never loved any of his sons, only seeing them as tools and only allowing them to believe in this whole family bullshit for his own gain. Big Daddy told him so mind-to-mind. Yay.

Also, people are now insisting that Big Daddy is God Daddy and he himself is the Son of God. Something he would very much like to keep denying, but he can’t, because the whole bloody Empire he’s so desperately trying to save is now powered by a fanatical horror of a religion, one dangerously prone to mass-murder and causing planetary exctinction events. And they are thiiiiis close to calling him a heretic, despite technically being the Son of God.

Oh, and apparently technology went backwards. Backwards and sideways! So bloody sideways that it’s a matter of course to have flying loudspeakers shaped like golden cherubs... made using baby corpses. As in corpses of actual babies. Tasteless and not even well-crafted, ugh. The architecture is pretty unrecognizable too with all the unnecessary things piled on top of other unnecessary things.

You’d think that that was enough, right? Yeah, no. The guy also hasn’t properly slept in 112 years! Which, okay, GMO-demigod, but still.

Kill me now, but I enjoyed Dark Imperium. A lot. More than I remember ever enjoying a WH40K novel, which is curious, since this one is still a wordy awkward dredge, even if a rather lovely one, and my taste should have drastically improved since the times of old. I guess the next one for me is going to be The Regent’s Shadow. You see, I would really like to see the batshit insane oligarchs of Terra try to pull one on a guy who got into non-bloody empire-building at fourteen. Boring he may be, stupid he is not.

Wrapping this rather random rant up - I do think that the 8th and 9th editions of Warhammer 40.000 (2017 and 2020) were a breath of fresh air, at least lore-wise. Will have to do some research as to how the actual rules might have changed, but it really doesn’t matter since I was always more of a lore-gal anyway. It’s also, I think, a great moment to actually get into this thing, since there is a dynamic, galaxy-scale, linear plotline to follow. Which, let me tell you, is not something that happens all that often. But please, please, please don’t get into this thing!

#WH40K is still terrible but also terribly epic #very much not rebel princess #although Guilliman is the only sane decent guy #who takes active steps to unfuck the Empire #and cares about little people #he's still no unusually uxorious Jesus Christ #also Xiao Qi is not a three meters tall vat-grown demigod #not sure if that's a pity or not #not sure why I wrote this post #screaming into the void I guess